fiction
Horror fiction that delivers on its promise to scare, startle, frighten and unsettle. These stories are fake, but the shivers down your spine won't be.
Hair of the Dog (Pt. 2)
Inside, the cabin was dim and musty. Crumbling stacks of newspapers covered every surface. The kitchen counter held a collection of dented coffee cans, some bent and shedding rust. An ancient glass coffee pot sat on a stove burner, burbling like a tar pit. I’d seen the propane tank by the side of the house. There was no electricity or running water. A hand pump rose beside the vast enameled sink. Maudie fished two chipped mugs from the depths of the sink and gave each a rub on her apron. She set them beside the stove and turned to wave a long finger at Nick.
By Liz Zimmers7 years ago in Horror
She
She always dressed in faded black jeans with the knees torn out and sleeveless T-shirts emblazoned across the chest with the logos of famous rock bands (who inevitably, mother said, seemed to have the word ‘death’ in their names). Basically, She was a good girl, who did all of the things that good little girls in her land did, like worrying about problem-things. Indeed, on the day that our story takes place, She was very embroiled in a problem-thing. She had just come from a lecture about a problem-thing that was altogether new to her and was having quite a struggle wrapping her thoughts around it. New words were all floating around in her mind, like a bunch of little problem things that she could not make into the very big problem thing that the lecture had actually been about. It was all very confusing, but she was sure that if she concentrated real, real hard, she eventually would understand. And concentrate real hard, she did! Why, she was concentrating so very hard on the problem-thing that when she got home she ran in the front door and right through the living room, moving so fast and thinking so hard that she didn't even notice her family waving at her from their very favorite spots in front of the television. She just ran into her bedroom, slammed the door shut, put on her favorite CD, The Dead Lovers In Potato Crates, pulled out a cigarette, lit up with her unicorn lighter and started smoking furiously—like she always did when things needed thinking about.
By John Ridgway7 years ago in Horror
Dear Diary
I creep down the page, one foot after the other sliding to the next line of text, feeling my way with my bare toes. The light around me is dim and creamy, the glow of the night-reading lamp beside her bed. I look up and out and there it is like a hazy moon. I see it through the tall window on the landing of the staircase of words, casting its radiance into the house that is written around me. There is carpet under my feet, a runner of intricate weave and convoluted design—the subtle subtext of her entries, the story within her story, and the sprawling arabesques of her handwriting. I could pull them up, those inky loops, and hang myself with them. Would she see the swaying shadow of my body on her wall?
By Liz Zimmers7 years ago in Horror
9678
9678 woke up in a cold sweat. His already racing heart pounded in his chest and his lungs pumped quick, shallow breaths. They moved him to another facility; this door was a solid metal several inches thick and raised to meet the flat at the ten foot mark. His arms were bound with thick rope behind him at the shoulder, elbow and wrists; they had him hooked to the ceiling by the arms. There was a large weight attached to his feet. 9678 instantly began to pull against the ropes with all his might, but they wouldn't give.
By Sabrina Rodgers7 years ago in Horror
Jilāya
Jilāya was the monster and she knew it. She knew that she was the creature that parents told their children about a night. She knew how they would tell children about how she hide under the beds and in the closets; and because of these tales, children were scared enough so that she could hide in the minds of the ones who were taught to fear her. She scared everyone and everything, and this includes herself. Jilāya did not look the part of a monster; if anything, she would have been seen as an angel in her sister's new town. They would have been struck with awe when seeing the twisting horns protruding from her skull and hearing her tales that were seen through her empty, white eyes.
By Sabrina Rodgers7 years ago in Horror
Once You Enter, You'll Never Want to Leave
I had just arrived at the train station when my mom asked if I was on my way home. I went to one of the benches and texted her that I was at the station waiting for the train. I wasn't the kind of teenager that would sneak out a lot or have Amber Alerts dedicated to me; my mom was just more concerned about my whereabouts than usual due to the many disappearances she has heard about on the news and from the past. I don't exactly consider myself a perfect child, but I did understand her concerns. The main issue for me was that, even though I wasn't exactly the most social, I still felt like I would be better off getting fresh air from somewhere outside the house as long as it was somewhere where I didn't have to deal with my family lingering over my shoulder. It seemed like a good way to pretend that my family didn't think I needed to be sheltered or that there wasn't anything wrong with me that they felt the need to hide for some reason.
By Monique Star7 years ago in Horror
I See Red
It's only 4 more blocks to grandmother’s house. When I told my friends I was fine walking home from the bar alone, it was before Jake Wolff showed up. I had taken the same walk thousands of times before; 6 blocks down Main Street and then a right on Country Club and a left on James. If I had somehow lost my vision, I could make my way home from Finn’s without missing a beat.
By Unchartedwaters7 years ago in Horror
