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#329 The Graveyard Shift

People say everything gets quiet after dark — but we writers know better. When the rest of the world is asleep, that’s when our characters start whispering, pacing, and maybe even making some questionable life choices.

This week, tell us a story shaped by late-night hours. Whether it's a tale inspired by spooky season or a silly, sleep-deprived story meant to make us laugh, we want to see what happens when the lights go out. It’s the graveyard shift: time to clock in.

This week's prompts

Write a story about a character who is haunted by something or someone.

Halloween – 99 stories

Center your story around someone who yearns for something they lost, or never had.

Angst – 73 stories

Write a story from the point of view of a ghost, werewolf, vampire, or other supernatural creature.

Halloween – 82 stories

Make a character’s addiction or obsession an important element of your story.

Dramatic – 47 stories

Write a story that includes the phrase “It was a dark and stormy night,” “Skeletons in the closet,” or “Digging up the past.”

Dramatic – 58 stories

Stories

Shadow in the Dark

Submitted to Contest #329

I have walked the edges of humanity since long before there were names for shadows like me. Born not from darkness, but from the first unspoken wound, I emerged in the space where truth is swallowed and tears go unheard. I am older than memory, older than fear itself, older even than the instinct that tells a child to hide under the covers when the night becomes too quiet. Humans have called me many things through the centuries; Omen, nightmare, demon, watcher. They fear me only because I carry what they cannot. Every burden I take becomes a...

17 likes 0 comments 0
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Endless

Submitted to Contest #329

My name is Clayton Cordell, or at least that is my name now, but I just go by Clay. I was born in Munich, to a family of German nobility in the year 1226, during the ascension of the Holy Roman Empire. I had a highly privileged upbringing, replete with household servants, riding lessons, trips abroad, and I attended the finest schools in Europe. Still, I was never truly happy then. I am still not happy now. Happiness is a fleeting and elusive thing that I can never seem to hold onto for very long. I was knighted at the feet of Frederick II i...

16 likes 18 comments 18
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A Sin for the Ages

Submitted to Contest #329

A Sin for the Ages“Confession is good for the soul.”-Scottish proverb. The lights were still shining through the stained-glass windows of St. Peter’s. Every second Tuesday of the month, Father O’Brien heard evening confessions for sinners who couldn’t take off from work if their souls depended on it. He was old school. The penitent took their place in a cramped cubicle and unloaded their transgressions on the elderly priest behind the curtain. Presumed anonymity loosens the lips and bares the soul.The lines had been long that night. It was t...

15 likes 4 comments 4
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The Glass Between Us

Submitted to Contest #329

The apartment was too quiet for sleep. Wait, scratch that. It was the wrong kind of quiet. The kind where you can hear your own thoughts bouncing around like pinballs, each one lighting up another worry you'd forgotten about during the day.Susan lay in bed staring at the ceiling. One-thirty in the goddamn morning. The radiator was doing that clicking thing again, tap-tap-tapping a language she didn't speak. The bathroom door was open just a crack because she hated sleeping with it fully closed (childhood thing, don't ask), and the mirror in ...

15 likes 7 comments 7
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Letters to Santa

Submitted to Contest #329

The child's scrawl on a Christmas card—such a small, yet special thing. The malformed letters were squished and scrunched every which way in the cramped space beneath a canned greeting, drafted by some man or woman who spent the day coming up with, "Season's Greetings!" while watching the clock tick slowly toward the magical hour when the slog of coming up with fresh holiday greetings ended. This special card was reserved for the Head Elf himself. Santa. Saint Nick. Kris Kringle. Pere Noel. However a child referred to him, it was all the sam...

14 likes 2 comments 2
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Cemetery Flags

Submitted to Contest #329

I always enjoyed graveyards. I don’t know what it is about them that draws me there, I used to think it was the quiet, or the isolation. I know now that can’t be right, because there is nothing more occupied than an empty graveyard.I’ve been going to graveyards, cemeteries, a large field with a lot of rocks in it, whatever you’d like to call it, for as long as I can remember. The first house I ever lived in was sat right behind the largest cemetery in my small town. Anyone who’s seen the sprawling churchyards of Queens would scoff at me call...

14 likes 2 comments 2
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The Living Come to Mourn

Submitted to Contest #329

The drive always felt longer than it should.Ben gripped the steering wheel tighter as he wound along the narrow forest road. A steady mist streaked across the windshield, and though the wipers kept it at bay, the night pressed in - thick, silent, expectant. The trees leaned close, closing off the night sky. The radio had lost its signal miles ago, so the only sound was the rhythmic thunk-thunk of rubber over asphalt and the faint hum of the engine.It had been twelve years.Twelve years since the accident.He wasn't the first to arrive this tim...

14 likes 0 comments 0
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Kids at Play

Submitted to Contest #329

Warning for profane language Usually, Bill found driving at night on long, winding roads pretty creepy. Adding to the creep factor were the Spanish moss draping the old gnarly oaks that loomed over the road and the fine mist that clung to the blacktop. Bill would’ve been feeling the spooky vibe if he weren't so ticked off at the voice in his ear, repeating the same old explanation as to why his insurance will no longer be granted on his meds, and not really answering his questions.“Yes,” he said, “this is my third time calling for answers, a...

14 likes 2 comments 2
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Circe

Submitted to Contest #329

The tide rolled in, grabbing sand from the shore and pulling it back into the sea, claiming it for Poseidon. High above the beach, a woman dressed in a simple off white gown that fluttered in the wind, stared at the sea expectantly. The saltwater air caressed her skin and played with the dark colored curls of her hair. The air shimmered beside her revealing the lithe figure of a water nymph took shape, her main companion on the island. “Poseidon continues to press his claim on the island”, the nymph remarked in her liquid voice. The wo...

14 likes 4 comments 4
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Snowblind

Submitted to Contest #329

Even though it was two in the morning, Martha Wilkins finally turned off the lights at Enterprise Car Rental. A small Idaho airport, Enterprise waited for the bus when airlines couldn’t land, like now, in a snowstorm. She told Jessie about his Uber fare waiting once he came out of the men’s room.“Where is she?” Jessie asked.Martha threw a thumb at the entrance. “Another reunion gal I suspect. They’re gathering like flies to honey. You should go to the reunion yourself, Jessie. Hoot it up, see some old high school friends.”Jessie glanced back...

14 likes 11 comments 11
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You Don't Know My Name

Submitted to Contest #329

"When did you know that you loved me"? I asked him. Looking deep into his dreamy brown eyes brushing my fingers against his caramel skin. We sat on the carpet by the furnace in our newly furnished Brooklyn brownstone, surrounded by the aroma of mahogany-scented candles that filled the air. At the same time, the small flickers of the fire reflected on his skin, making it shine like diamonds. It was a quarter past 12, and the bright orange moonlight glow seeped into our living room through the patio, turning our sapphire walls into a somewhat ...

13 likes 3 comments 3
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Cinnamon and Coffee

Submitted to Contest #329

“Hey, are you alright?” a voice asks me, waking me from my sleep. She smells like cinnamon and coffee. But I wasn’t just asleep. I was on the way to dying. For a second time, I suppose. I mean, I was already dead. But that’s the strange thing about being a vampire– you very well may end up dying twice. I hear the rustle of a plastic grocery bag and I open my eyes to blinding sunlight. “Oh god!” I wail, slapping my palm over my suffering eyes. “How is it morning already?” I can feel the sun sapping my energy. Everything hurts. I am always hid...

13 likes 2 comments 2
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LET ME IN

Submitted to Contest #329

Seven years.It had taken seven years to build the bunker beneath his modest suburban home. It had taken seven years to prepare for the end of the world.It had also taken his savings, his marriage, and most of his waking thoughts. His ex-wife had said he was digging his own grave in the basement. His neighbours simply referred to it as his strange hobby, a charitable term for what they really thought: that Morgan Ellis was unhinged, though harmless.But Morgan knew better. The world was a house of cards, and unlike his ignorant neighbours, he ...

13 likes 6 comments 6
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Death and Romance at 8 Centimeters per Minute

Submitted to Contest #329

Shayla, whom I was meeting for the first time in-person, didn’t hide her displeasure when I wanted to leave after just one hour. Outside of the restaurant, I helped her put her jacket on, her beautiful hair catching the wind. “Should we catch a movie? There’s a cinema two streets away from here.” “Oh, no, no.” I shrugged quickly. “Thanks, but I can’t stand still for too long. Want to go for a walk?” “It’s kind of cold.” She hugged her shoulders. “I think I’ll get going. But it was great meeting you. Take care!” Before I managed to reach for ...

13 likes 1 comment 1
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The Overwhelming Responsibility of Coming Home

Submitted to Contest #329

Colin shovels nondescript casserole onto his plate, the spoon clanking on the ornate china. The sound seems to echo for ages in the stuffy wood-paneled kitchen.“Sorry,” he mumbles behind a sheepish smile. There isn’t a response. Colin’s smile falls as he picks up a fork and turns towards the dining table. His eyes scan the seats for his best option. Front left? Next to his dad's half-empty bottle, no good. Far end? Maybe, but he’s always felt weird sitting at the head of the table. He decides to take a chance beside his grandmother and sets ...

13 likes 3 comments 3
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