Darkwriting Stories

A lone camper has a run-in with the Goatman

Night is kinder to me than day. A place where pain doesn't have to hide, and truth can exist without striking back. These writings are not stories. They are whispers born in darkness, written for the heart, not for judgment, not for rescue. If something here feels familiar, perhaps our nights keep the same wound awake.

When the beast fell, the village chose who the monster was.

**𝑰 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝒆𝒙𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒍𝒚 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑰 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒅 𝒄𝒓𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒎𝒐𝒎... 𝑰 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝑰 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒎𝒆... 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒍𝒚." 𝐈𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝... I used to run straight to my mumma. Every little thing that hurt me, scared me, confused me , I told her all. I cried loudly. I complained loudly. And she listened... patiently... lovingly... without judgment. Back then, I truly believed "No matter how cruel this world is, my mumma will always fix my broken heart." 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰... I don't tell her anything. I stay silent. I keep everything buried deep inside me. Not because I don't trust her. Not because I love her any less. But because... 𝑰 𝒎𝒚𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕'𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆. How do I explain something I don't understand myself? How do I tell her what I feel when I have no answers even for me? These days... I cry alone. I overthink alone. I break alone. I don't run to her anymore... Because I don't want her to see me this broken. Because deep inside... I know, even she won't have the answers I'm searching for. People say I've grown up... But it doesn't feel like growing. It feels more like... 𝑩𝒖𝒓𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒚 𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇... 𝒎𝒚 𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒅 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕... 𝒎𝒚 𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒔... 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒆𝒕𝒍𝒚 𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒎𝒆. So tell me... Did I really 𝐠𝐫𝐨

This is a collection of poems and other short little drabbles that I've written over the years and continue to write regularly. Most of them are dark in nature and all come from the deepest parts of my mind and heart.

A collection of one-shots, fragments, and short scenes, ranging from horror to heartbreak, from quiet deaths to violent beginnings. None of them are connected, yet none of them truly stand apart. Sometimes, when my mind wanders and sensations overwhelm me, I find myself writing something unrelated to any story I'm working on at the time. They're all based on emotions sitting heavy on my chest. They're not depressing or bad in any way, just often more detailed and deep than my usual storytelling works.

I wrote this poem in dedication to how sad people really are. Love is shown when it doesn't even matter anymore. Everybody comes running when something bad happens or when you're no longer here on earth. But why wait until it's too late?Love now❤,not later.... Later probably doesn't even exist.

A collection of poems made in dark times.

A soul caught between craving and collapse. Each chapter is a descent-into the abyss, into hope's betrayal, into the hunger for love, and into the quiet wish to disappear. This is not a story of rescue. It's a story of surrender. A confession carved into the dark, one breath at a time.

"Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they aren't after you." -Joseph Heller

A short story I wrote. Testing my writing techniques. Making something out of a simple idea. This one I was given monkeys.

A collection of short stories across every mood and genre from sweet romances that make you giggle, to confessions that ache with grief, to eerie tales that keep you up at night. Each chapter is its own world: some read like diary entries, some like secrets, some like daydreams, and some like nightmares. This isn't just fiction it's a mix of emotions we've all felt but rarely say out loud.