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.
Two Headlights
Two headlights flashed on a secluded peak of the Santa Monica Mountains in Southern California. These rolling hills were the backyard and playground of the rich and famous whose houses were hidden in the blanket of hills. But tonight, mysterious lights signaled a solo walker being guided by a blue flashlight. A few moments later, the lights flashed again. One, two, gone. They disappeared into the black abyss, as if they had never been up there. But I knew they were there. The coyotes in the field below yelped their nightly tune, unaware of the goings on above them. The walker continued.
By Natalie Spack5 years ago in Horror
The Rose Room
Before everything went dark, I was an apprentice to the Great Mage, Belladiana. After her blood soaked win at the Magus Arena, a biannual competition that was set to find and reward the most powerful Mage, I followed her home and begged for an opportunity to learn from her. Though she was taken back by my sudden presence on her property, Belladiana obliged with a smile that showed all of her perfect white teeth.
By Pierre Brown5 years ago in Horror
The Graveyard Keeper
An old, abandoned church stood high on the small hill at the edge of town. The moonlight overhead, clung to the edges of the large wooden frame, and cast down eerie shadows from the steeple, adding to the sinister aura of the decaying centuries old building. Shutters hung crooked from the boarded-up windows; some had fallen completely to the ground. The large, double church doors were boarded together, holding them shut in hopes of keeping kids like us out of the crumbling structure. The churchyard in front of the building hadn’t been kept up on in more than a decade. Weeds grew throughout and overgrown bushes had overtaken the wrought iron fence.
By Kayla Gustafson5 years ago in Horror
The Statement of Eric Kaube
I ask then, what obligation does one hold, even without the consideration of complex context, to willingly and knowingly vilify themselves in the face of such accusations? It is true, I admit, as I have done so previously, that Sergeant Bauer and I entered the Hambach mine, and that I alone emerged from its rubble after it had collapsed. Again, I am informing you of the events that occurred within those black depths to the best of my ability. Amnesia has erased much of my recollection of that day, the cause of which is unknown to me. Considering the nature of such a condition, I fail to see how I might be held responsible for it.
By Ian Hayden5 years ago in Horror
Dark space
You put the big light on as you step into the bedroom to get changed for bed. You don’t really need to, but you always do because you are scared of the dark. Not that you would ever admit this flaw to anyone, because it seems silly. A grown man being scared of the dark. It has always been the case though, since you were a wee child.
By Karen Cave5 years ago in Horror
The Scare Shop
Maria and her friends had heard about a shop where the owners scare their customers. They were at a bar one night not too far from their college. A middle-aged man came over to their table and pulled up a chair to sit down. A younger man who Maria recognized from school was with him. She had just seen the young man here and there, but she did not know him. He pulled up a chair next to the other man.
By Shelly Bartley5 years ago in Horror
Deep Red Eyes
Kent stood in the foyer. Across from him was a large painting hanging on the wall sandwiched between two curving staircases leading up to the landing of the second floor. He stood there gazing at the picture. First he surveyed the frame, it was a single solid piece of walnut with Celtic designs etched in gold and dark green running around the edges he did not understand the design nor the meaning behind it, yet he had to admit that it was appealing to his sight. The painting itself seemed to be a single sheet of velvet stretched taught. He looked towards the center of the picture to see that it depicted a woman sitting in a rocking chair. She was beautiful, youngish he guessed around mid-thirties, and it was hard to tell but using the rocker as a scale he put her at, probably, around five-foot-nine and one-hundred twenty pounds. Next he took in her attire, she was dressed in an ankle-length black dress with a dark red, crimson maybe, lace trim. Her long pure white hair flowed over her shoulders but did not obscure her face, he found it oddly attractive paired with her young features. Her expression was one of sorrow, artfully exemplified by the arch of her brow and the tilt of her perfect thin lips. But there was something deeper there. Kent continued to study the painting hoping to understand what else it was he was seeing. Was it something in those dark red eyes? Perhaps, but alas he would not solve the mystery today.
By Morgan Cartwright5 years ago in Horror
Coming home
Thirteen year old Jessie didn’t look back as they drove away from her house of seven years. Living with her abusive stepfather, it had never felt like a home, and now that she was leaving all she felt was relief. This time he’d gone too far. Her mother was in a coma in the local hospital and it wasn’t known if she would wake up. She didn’t care what happened to him but her heart squeezed when she thought of her mother and a single tear rolled down her face; but hadn’t she allowed that man into their lives? She was supposed to protect her child and she allowed everything to happen. The bitterness and blame was too strong and she couldn’t forgive her mother for exposing her to that evil man and everything she had endured in the last seven years.
By EthelBella5 years ago in Horror
Daymare
What is that infernal beeping? If it’s your alarm clock again, Simon, I swear I’m going to smash it with a hammer. All I wanted was to sleep in without noise. These thoughts ran through my head as I lay in my cozy bed. Sleeping in on a Saturday morning, something I rarely get to do; it would have been nice had I not been jarred awake by such an atrocious racket.
By Heather Little5 years ago in Horror
Retribution
This useless vessel which was once my body, contains some semblance of what I used to be yet it hangs ineffective below my head, numb and lifeless, immobile perhaps due to cold or lack of movement; conceivably both. There's a change in the air, an icy nip not there a few short days ago. I know this because I can sense the goosebumps on my uncovered extremities, the change in the air that surrounds my motionless form. Days have gone by, days which travel into nights so very slowly; on dark wings of sooty cruelty. Nights with darkness so deep and inky black it smothers me, sitting on my face like a wet cloth, snug and clingy. Suffocating.
By Heather Little5 years ago in Horror
