She tries to buy back a Polaroid that stole her life but finds the photograph keeps accounts—money and houses are offered and yet the ledger demands a darker payment she never imagined.

Stranded newlyweds seek a phone in a storm and end up invited to a house where hospitality is performance and bodies are bargaining chips.

He opens a storage unit and meets a decaying doppelgänger who claims a queue of bodies waits for a chance at life. A bargain of skins unfolds in the dark where identity is traded for the promise of being someone else.

// EXCERPT CORRUPTED: REALITY LEAK DETECTED Jonty Redline doesn’t review horror—he dissects it with broken wires and biometric scans. In his latest verdict on "CALL IT BY NAME AND IT WILL FOLLOW YOU", he counts your heartbeats, steals your breath, and whispers: "YOUR NAME IS MINE AT 03:06". Why readers scrubbed their names off doors after sentence 7... >> [ENTER IF YOU DARE]

A nervous man hovers over a blinking prompt—pressing Enter might reveal he is a program or unleash something worse and curiosity becomes a command as the screen answers back.

// EXCERPT CORRUPTED: REALITY LEAK DETECTED Jonty Redline doesn’t review horror—he dissects it with broken wires and biometric scans. In his latest verdict on "SILENCE INSTEAD OF A BEAT", he counts your heartbeats, steals your breath, and whispers: "YOUR SILENCE STARTS AT 03:07". Why readers stopped breathing after sentence 5... >> [ENTER IF YOU DARE]

// EXCERPT CORRUPTED: REALITY LEAK DETECTED Jonty Redline doesn’t review horror—he dissects it with broken wires and biometric scans. In his latest verdict on "WHERE THE REEL REALLY STOPS", he counts your heartbeats, steals your breath, and whispers: "YOUR REEL RESETS AT 03:05". Why readers smashed VCRs after sentence 3... **>> [ENTER IF YOU DARE]**

A hired vessel for the dying finds one client who refuses to let go—years bleed into hours and identity frays until possession becomes a life sentence. A claustrophobic story about who owns the years you lose.

Pinned to the ceiling and watched by smiling things, a man bargains with a false mercy as the face he loves dissolves—Anna’s hand is warm and wrong as the world tilts toward oblivion.

// EXCERPT CORRUPTED: REALITY LEAK DETECTED Jonty Redline doesn’t review horror—he dissects it with broken wires and biometric scans. In his latest verdict on "SOAP ISN’T MADE FROM BROKEN BONES", he counts your heartbeats, steals your breath, and whispers: "YOUR SILENCE BREAKS AT 03:03". Why readers plugged their ears after sentence 4... >> [ENTER IF YOU DARE]

When she peels the tape from her eyes she finds a room full of silent, sightless figures—familiar strangers standing among blood and glass. Recognition arrives like a contagion and asks her to choose whether to belong to the dead or remain alone in the hush.

A fortune told in a tent rewinds a life and leaves a tune lodged inside the throat—an intimate glimpse that unravels a man’s future into something far crueler than fate.

// EXCERPT CORRUPTED: REALITY LEAK DETECTED Jonty Redline doesn’t review horror—he dissects it with broken wires and biometric scans. In his latest verdict on "FRIEND GROUP SOUP", he counts your heartbeats, steals your breath, and whispers: "YOUR IDENTITY MELTS AT 03:04". Why readers scrubbed their names off birth certificates after sentence 6... >> [ENTER IF YOU DARE]

A man’s conviction hardens into a machine that boils friends into a smiling answer. By the time the churn stops you may no longer recognise the face that takes your hand.

A claustrophobic horror short by Matthew Tonks. “She drops the chain and looks up at one of them, frantically waving her hands.” What happens next is worse than what you think.

A brutal horror short by Matthew Tonks. “A-All the witnesses are standing now, sir. They’re all standing and staring—s-staring at me…” The execution was supposed to end it. Instead, it opened the door.

“The curve of a blade is just a straight line aching for your soul.” She dropped to her knees. He smiled too wide. Blood met dirt. Jonty Redline follows only the stories that bleed. And this one carved a straight line right through him.

A body horror short by Matthew Tonks. “He wasn’t screaming. He was humming. And now they all are.” The infection spreads through rhythm, not rage. It echoes in the blood, and once it finds your throat, there’s no turning back.

A surreal horror short by Matthew Tonks. “Andrew’s eyes shoot open, a sea of sweat pouring from his flesh.” What happens next is worse than what you think.

A woman. A screen. A glowing hole that beckons her in—and tears her apart from the inside out. Jonty Redline sinks his teeth into Matthew Tonks' surreal body horror nightmare Through a Glowing Hole My Screen Screamed—and what he finds writhing inside is unforgettable.

Tonks paints grief with rot and rust. What begins as sorrow turns to something darker—a man feeding the corpse of hope, one locked door at a time. It’s love, yes—but love boiled down to madness, wr…

It’s not just a story—it’s a scream stuck on repeat. Each loop fractures deeper, until even the lies can’t remember who told them first. Reality? Memory? Doesn't matter. David dies differently each time—and somehow, that's the therapy.

Time doesn’t tick here. It winces. Room to Wait as Time Slides leaves you clawing the armrest, unsure if you’re watching the room—or if it’s watching you. Every second loops. Every smile lies.

This isn’t a blog—it’s a butcher’s slab for the written word. And I’m the bastard with the blade. Every story bleeds. My job is to see if it screams—or stays silent in the dirt.

He sits. He waits. And every second tears something from his mind. Behind the jingle, something watches—and when it smiles, it’s already too late. This isn't limbo. It's a lesson in becoming forgotten.