Kelly Shade

Some writers like to keep things light, happy endings, heartwarming moments, and a general sense that the world is mostly  a good place. I am not  one of those writers. I gravitate toward the dark, the unsettling, the raw emotions people don’t like to talk about. My stories explore trauma, fear, loss, psychological struggles... the things that linger in the back of your mind. And there’s a reason for that: I write what I know. Because life isn’t always lighthearted. People ar

The Burden of Knowing David Grant had a pretty standard life. Boring, even. He woke up, went to his accounting job, crunched numbers, dodged awkward small talk, and came home to a wife who sighed just a little too often. Predictable. Safe. And then, in an act of lunchtime desperation, he ate that taco. It was the kind of street food that looked suspicious even under good lighting. One bite in, his tongue caught fire, his throat clenched, and then... BZZZT! A jolt shot through

Let’s get one thing straight: I did not  plan to be a writer. If you had asked me as a kid if I wanted to spend my life crafting stories, I would have laughed in your face... loudly, dramatically, probably with an eye-roll for emphasis. Writing? No, thanks. That was for sensitive, dreamy types. And where I grew up, creativity was basically a liability. You either built an armor of toughness, or you got crushed. So, I built the armor. I was the rebel. The badass. The one who d

I waltz with secrets, slow and sweet, A tangled rhythm, sharp deceit. The truth is laughing in the dark, It knows just where to leave its mark. Step left, step right, don’t miss a beat, This game is played with silent feet. Soft words, sharp teeth, A smile wrapped in silk beneath. Your story’s tight, the tale is clean, But I can smell the truth between. Velvet lies, they slip, they shine, They coil round your every line. But darling, when you blink, you’ll see Your perfect li

The Echo in My Veins I hear them whisper in the night, Ghosts of choices, wrong and right. Their echoes rattle through my chest, Footsteps in my ribcage, never rest. Every shadow leaves a clue, Every story tells what’s true. I try to run, I try to hide, But the past walks right beside.

Carlos had spent his life making clocks that moved time forward, but he had spent the last ten years creating one that could push it back. After many sleepless nights, it finally worked. But at a cost - every second he rewound stole a year from his own life. He stood there looking at his creation, thinking about why he did it. Because someone had tampered with his clocks once. Someone who didn’t want the police to know what really happened to the mayor’s son. Carlos adjusted

Your name’s a whisper, lost in ink, A puzzle piece, a missing link. Numbers scratched, a coded lie, Burned-up maps and alibis. You think you’re safe, you think you’ve won, But games like these are never done. You left no trace, no path, no guide Except the one inside your mind. Trails

We ran like ghosts, like gods, like fire, Fueled by dreams and wrong desires. We stole the stars, we cursed the moon. We knew the end was coming soon. Wrong to be together wrong to be apart maybe we shouldn't settle but we play with open cards. So take my hand, we’ll chase, we’ll run, We’ll dance until the race is done. No laws, no maps, no wasted breath... Just you and me. And whatever comes next. Chasing the End

The Hollow Man The blood is still warm on my hands. It seeps into the cracks of my skin, staining my fingers like ink on old parchment. I rub them together, feeling the stickiness, the weight of it. The body behind me, cooling, empty, is nothing now. Just another ending. Just another moment slipping into the past. I turn and walk away, my heartbeat steady, my mind clear. The city swallows me whole, neon lights flickering above as I blend into the shadows. No one looks twice.

Double Crossed Location: Buenos Aires, Argentina Emily Buenos Aires at midnight was alive with temptation. Neon lights painted the streets in deep reds and blues, tangos played in smoky bars, and danger lingered in the air like the scent of strong espresso, rich, dark, and guaranteed to burn if you weren’t careful. Emily Carter moved through the exclusive Cielo  club with purpose, her fitted emerald dress hugging her in all the right places. The dress was a tool, like the kni

[Intro] Yeah… No rent, no lease. You’re in too deep. Mind’s a palace, baby, only the strong find peace. [Verse 1] I’m living in my head, penthouse views, high heels on the floor, whiskey, nothing to lose. Could go rogue one night, make a scene like Cruise, then disappear and return in a fresh set of moves. I live how I want, you would do the same, if you knew how to touch pain and turn it to flame. Rewrite my past like I’m changing the frame, lead role energy, I don’t wait fo

They told me he's gone, And I felt nothing. Is something within me wrong, Or was he just not worth it? He brought the darkness, the trauma But I felt nothing... was that karma? Not relief, nor hate, no sadness, no sting, Inside, I was still, calm, not feeling a thing. I wrote this poem, or whatever it’s called, Not because I care, but a thought slowly crawled: Am I bad, or cold, or...wrong Or was it him who never belonged? In my life, in my mind.... he was the worst kind...

Mina Hartley’s life sparkled on the surface. As the only child of Charles and Margaret Hartley, the wealthiest couple in town, she was always dressed in the finest clothes and attended the most exclusive parties. But underneath the glitter, her life was more like a gilded cage. Her parents controlled every detail - who she talked to, where she went, even what she studied. It was suffocating, and every day Mina felt her spirit being crushed a little more. But not tonight. Toni

Detective John Taylor sat in the dimly lit interrogation room, staring across the table at the man who had terrorized the city for months. Raymond Black, a soft-spoken, middle-aged accountant with no prior record, was an unlikely suspect. Yet here he was, sitting calmly, confessing to five murders. Something about him unsettled Mark. His demeanor was too calm, too composed. Most killers, even the cold-blooded ones, eventually showed cracks in their mask. But Raymond’s face wa

I woke up to the sound of my alarm blaring and the faint light of dawn creeping through the curtains. Groggy, I dragged myself out of bed. School. Another routine day, but something felt off. I glanced around and realized why this wasn’t my usual morning scene. I wasn’t at my grandparents' house. I was in my parents' house. The realization made my stomach twist a little. It was strange, being here with them. I rarely stayed with my parents. In fact, I lived with my grandparen

Sometimes even a single sentence is enough.... 1. She stared at the white wall, whispering "What if?" just before closing her eyes for the final time. 2. She stayed for them, sacrificing her entire life, knowing the loneliness she'd feel once they took their own paths. 3. Everyone envied her seemingly perfect life, but she was just a good actress; only she knew the pain hidden behind her practiced smile. 4. He waved goodbye, saying, "I love you," and though I felt something

Kyle trudged through the silent streets, his footsteps echoing against the cold pavement as he made his way to the park. It was late, and the world around him felt as empty as his soul. The park had become his refuge, a small corner of the city where he could disappear into the shadows, unnoticed and unbothered. His usual bench, worn and chipped from years of weather and time, awaited him like an old friend. Kyle's life had become a monotonous routine of wandering, surviving,