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.
The protective candle
I awake in a cold sweat in the middle of the night for what feels like the ninth night in a row. Its always the same dream that gets me: Im alone in a dark, cold wooden shed. There is no doors, and the only light aside from the moon came from a candle sitting on the window 🕯. Im in the middle of the floor and i cant move. Any time I try to cry out for help, there's no sound. Now that i think of it, there was virtually no sound other than my losing my mind telling myself "This is only a dream". In the midst of my frantic pleading to myself, the candle blows out and there's a bone rattling chill accompanied by a strange sound i could barely make out. My eyes are drawn to the window, and what ever i see next is what awakens me. My family has a history of mental illness, so i tend to go to therapy to try and grasp why i have these constant dreams and to see if its anything to worry about. "What in your life is going wrong? Is there anyone in your life giving you problems?" Etc. None of which helps, as life is pretty good so far. My friends are cool, plus ive been having these dreams for the past couple weeks and aside from the creeps and the constant feeling of being watched, im usually fine. But today, something felt different. I told my self i wont get scared, that id try and figure this out in the dream. I get home after work and get ready for bed, eager but also terrified of what could have me terrified all day without even knowing what it is. Dream starts the same, this time however im silent. Observing everything. The wood smells damp and decayed. The air smelled stale and it was warm. The candle is lit and for some reason seems to be alive, as if it's been watching me. I can feel something different this time. Id usually be crying like a child by now, but this time im determined to find out what's been tormenting me. The lights been flickering like normal, but something in me makes me scream "WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME" which is surprising because before this I was never able to hear anything. The light keeps flickering, but its slower. "What do you keep saying to me?" The flame stops at that moment. I awake, but this time i feel almost normal. I call my sister about it, she's more into spiritual things than i am so she seemed like the best person.
By Josh Marcus5 years ago in Horror
Contest to Hell
Amy has been living in NYC her whole life and has dreamt of her modeling career going big. She came across an ad in her favorite fashion magazine of a huge contest and decided to enter. The contest grand prize is the cover of October's issue, an agency contract and $10,000 to start up their own business. Amy must build her own team to do it and has just the right people! Her photographer, Mike had suggested shooting on this deserted block, with an empty Victorian home.
By Aurea Gonzalez5 years ago in Horror
...and so, I light a candle...
My grandma used to always have a lit candle in the window in a special candelabrum she kept near her doorway. When I asked her about it, she'd tell me it would light when family or friends would “pass through”. She’d inherited this candelabrum from her grandma, which was probably difficult to do considering the inability for many African slaves to have personal property at that time, but this silver candlestick somehow had followed her family from the Virginia colonies in the 1700's to the West coast here in California. It would hold five candles, yet only one was always in the heart; yet the oddity which piqued my curiosity, was that this candle would always light as if on its own power prior to any news. I had always meant to ask her how it would, yet it would never come up in conversation.
By Theodore Walker5 years ago in Horror
A Nice Place. Third Place in Spooky Shorts Challenge.
They arrived in Autumn Heights without warning. The “For Rent” sign wasn’t even plucked from the front yard of the Grimley House when their old Buick sputtered into the driveway. People stared, as people do. The school bus driver even made a point to drive off-route down Maple Leaf Road just to get a glimpse of the newcomers.
By Alexandra Hubbell5 years ago in Horror
Forest Of The Dead
Chapter One Jimmy sat on the tailgate of his old beat up, rusted, red 72 Chevy pickup while he waited for his co-worker, Nolan, to show up for their regular 6:30 a.m. shift. He had already retrieved the tools from the garden shed they would need to tend to the Forest of Memories and the tools leaned clumsily against the tailgate beside Jimmy. Although it was a fairly mild winter and all the snow had already melted, the early morning mid-April air still carried a bit of a bite and Jimmy’s breathe escaped in small puffs of steamy air. He looked down at his watch and saw it was now 6:40. “Good ole Nolan, late as usual.” He mumbled to himself with a small matter of fact chuckle as he looked up to see the sun making its way up over the horizon. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath letting the cool crisp air fill his lungs. Nolan was typically a little late and although Jimmy razzed him about it regularly, Jimmy never really minded and always punched Nolan’s time card along with his own. Truth be told, he enjoyed the extra time to himself so early in the morning with the fresh air accompanied by a fresh cup of coffee. The air always seemed refreshing at this time of day and, the quiet…. Oh, the peace and quiet, with nothing but the sounds of the forest, the birds chirping and the dry leaves rustling on the ground with the small bursts of wind. It was just what he needed before the start of what usually turned out to be a long, hard workday.
By Xenia Headley5 years ago in Horror
Ozranis
Ozranis the Soul Thief Flash Fiction by Xenia Headley The wretched smell of stale piss and putrid rotting garbage filled Ozranis’s nose. His nostrils flared as he inhaled not only the scent of the dingy alleyway but, the rancid smell of the homeless that occupied it as well. Following his nose like a hunting dog would, he rounded the corner of a decaying brick building and walked confidently into the alley with his trench coat flapping gently in the breeze. There, standing over a large metal barrel filled with flames, were three men and two women. They all wore tattered rags for clothes and dirty toques pulled down low in an attempt to keep themselves warm from the bitter winter cold and the bite of the winter winds. Ozranis neared closer and the chatter amongst the homeless stopped as the five turned to stare directly at the man wearing all black who dared to enter their territory. This was their alley and everyone around knew to stay away unless invited as they ran the streets.
By Xenia Headley5 years ago in Horror
Lackluster
A hand, looking more like a brown leather glove, parts the tall dry grasses near the railroad tracks. Frank's gaunt frame emerges, yawning, stretching, shaking off his beige bed remnants. He affixes his once-snazzy bowler hat over his stringy, sparse hair and polishes the pewter handle of his cane with the fraying corner of his silk jacket. The sun faded out hours ago, and the moon has yet to make headway in its struggle against the thick cloud cover. The grey gloom gives him several minutes of luxurious repose. He squints and checks his pocket watch, the gold leaf polished almost entirely away, revealing the cheap base metal underneath. He spits carefully into a dingy handkerchief and bends down, gingerly, to shine his shoes. He stares for a time at the deep branching crevasses that have taken over the better part of the leather loafers before stuffing the cloth back into his jacket pocket.
By Diana Huntress5 years ago in Horror
Haunting Grief
Life doesn't feel the same anymore. I sit in my room most days with the lights off, staring out the window in deep thought about why this happened to me. The only thing I can be thankful for these days is the weather consistently matching my mood. It has been especially cloudy lately, with the occasional thunderstorm rolling in. It's almost as if nature is connected to my sorrow. The only light source that I enjoy anymore is from the candle in the window that Graham gave me for my birthday.
By Dylan Portwood5 years ago in Horror
Farm House
I would place a bet that this back road is the longest that there has ever been. Why someone would have a back road so long and far away from the highways is beyond me...My friend asked me to come along with her to get a new puppy and at first I was excited, I mean who doesn’t love puppies? But as we continue driving...something just does not feel right. I feel that something bad is going to happen, my stomach is fluttering with butterflies and my heart is racing. “Are you sure that this is safe Melody?” I ask my friend nervously. “It will be quick Val, you don’t even have to come out of the car” Melody replied.
By A. D. DOUGHTY 5 years ago in Horror
