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.
Answers from the Past Part 3
I pulled out picture after picture of different family events from when I was a child. There were newspaper articles of significant events, such as when I was in track and volleyball in high school. I couldn’t believe my grandparents didn’t put this stuff in photo albums. I put the box aside after I put everything back in. I thought to myself, this summer when I don’t have classes, I’ll put all that stuff in albums and scrap book some of it.
By LR Hatfield8 years ago in Horror
The Hourglass
I blinked. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. When my eyes adjusted, I looked around and noticed I was in a small room where there were neither windows nor a door, but bookshelves on both sides of the room full of office-looking-supplies like tape, staplers, rulers, etc., and above me were lights slightly hanging from the ceiling; they looked like Christmas tree lights. They reminded me of the stars. I don’t know why but they gave me a sense of peace and comfort. In the back left corner was a cardboard box full of instruments with some other instruments hanging on the walls next to it; some had strings, some were longer and bigger than others, and some looked so weird like how could someone play it? In front of me was a dimly lit, brown desk with small racks and shelves full of monotone colored books and knick knacks like dolls or snow globes, but more specifically an hourglass right in the middle of the desk, which was between two wooden stands with a wooden rod in the center to turn the hourglass. It was filled with black sand all the way at the bottom; it kind of shined in the dim lights and made it appear to glitter and shimmer.
By Sophia Rosado8 years ago in Horror
Laughter
It was late at night when I got to Casey’s house. At about 3 AM, I parked in the gravel driveway or the little yellow house and turned off the ignition. The house was cheerful looking, with bright flowers lining the small wooden porch. The windows were dark as I got out of my car and made my way up the driveway, the stones crunching beneath my feet, and up the creaking wooden stairs. I knocked and waited, but no one answered. I tried the handle. The door was unlocked and swung open easily as if inviting me in. I walked straight into the dark living room.
By Secret Dino8 years ago in Horror
The Doll
I bought the doll from a garage sale being run by some old guy who lived a few blocks away. I can’t say what drew me to it, really. I just knew that it was something I wanted. Plus, the guy was selling it for dirt cheap. It didn’t seem like he was sad to see it go, nor did he desperately want to get rid of it. I handed him the money, and he casually tossed the doll towards me. I grabbed it, thanked him, then left.
By Felix Masterton8 years ago in Horror
Sightings
“Why don’t we start at the beginning?” I take out my phone and start recording our conversation to begin the interview process. “Hello, my name is Hex Stratford and I’m with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. This will be my third interview of the day. We’re right outside of Central Par.k” A gust of wind bellows through the park as children can be heard playing in the background. The sky is gloomy and full of darkness, but not a single drop of rain has fallen from the heavens. “Why don’t we start with your name?”
By Creation Studios8 years ago in Horror
Unconscious Reality
You are running through the paint splattered halls of an ancient building, stained vibrant from generations of artistry. Overlapping murals are painted on each wall molding the floors with the walls and the walls with the ceilings. Letting your fingers trail across the numerous brush strokes and layers of paint while your eyes wander everywhere, you take in each illustration. Every image tells a story about someone who used to live here, in this building. It is full of memories and ghosts from the past who continue to effect this present. A woman carries a small child on her back wrapped in blankets and sheets made of gold, a young girl runs through a field of wheat carrying a cherished doll, a musician carries stacks of sheet music to gift a prodigy, a mother grieves the loss of her child to cancer and a wanderer adventures through mysterious mountains towards heaven. As you let your fingers guide along the textures and fissures of these walls, you feel a pull to join these wandering souls. You enjoy the historical significance of the illustrations and feel the incredible pull of the memories stored in the cracks of the floors and the holes in the walls. You are a part of these paint splattered walls, leaving your own chinks in the plaster with the backs of your hands. You begin running faster and faster, while the images begin to turn into spirals of color as you run passed them. You sprint to catch up with the quickly depleting light at the end of the hall until everything fades to black.
By Abby Lynnae8 years ago in Horror
Take One, Pass It On
"Holden House," the large brass sign falling off of a steel post sat at the intersection between Cross Road and Parliament Street, its winding driveway leading down to what you could once imagine was a stately manor, was left by the hands of time to rot away to nothing more than a few solid boards and broken windows. If it weren't for the general interest it piqued with its numerous stories, the town would have condemned it long ago. It was nothing to say that among the few tourist shops and convenience stores, the town of Leader Valley didn't have much going for it, if anything at all. The people were nice—quiet, one would assume; mostly kept to themselves but still managed to be in on everyone's business. "The know" was something few people were out of, like any small town. That was what kept the legends of the Holden House alive.
By Brittany Seguin8 years ago in Horror
The Skull Man: Part 5
HAZEL Did they know she was starting to enjoy hearing them suffer? She'd been the caged animal for so long and now that he had finally let her out of that cramped metal box, the scorching rage she felt inside was begging her to kill whatever she laid eyes on.
By Sharlene Alba8 years ago in Horror
Lampago Part II
On the far side of that squalid living room, Rudy fussed over a fourth-hand electric stove while Duncan sat half-awake at a card table, their father's card table, waiting with a paper plate. Rudy looked passably human now that he shaved off his beard and muttonchops, put on his green Wigman's Grocery shirt and apron, hid his paw-hands inside cheap gloves, hid his tail inside his black slacks, and squeezed his hindpaws into shoes. Duncan, meanwhile, looked pert in his school uniform of a blue vest over a black polo shit and khaki slacks.
By Stanton Fink8 years ago in Horror
