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.
'Til Death
On her left, sun-coaxed daisies waved at the sun, while on his right, snow spatter clung to ice blasted trees. The portrait served its purpose well, a beacon of cheer in an otherwise uninspiring home. Alone on the wall, the duo sat cradled by a handsome frame, the couple's beautiful, glowing faces forever frozen. She found their loving expressions encouraging.
By Evelyn Martinez6 years ago in Horror
Manning
Chapter Two: Red Snow Freedom Part Three: Secret Door Inside the old house covered in sleet, Casey Jetsom’s found something new. Not like yesterday. All day yesterday he was putting up old clothes, cleaning out the kitchen appliances, sweeping and mopping, going through old boxes of crap, well... not all of it was crap. He had found some books he figured he’d need, being here without electricity, and went through a lot of old family albums. At best he knew half the people… at best. And now, here in front of Casey, is the only thing to throw him for a loop. A secret door. The whole wall of one of the bedrooms could slide about three feet if you pulled it just right, which he did, and now the exposed door is laughing at him. It’s only a matter of time before you open me and you know it. Might as well do it now. You know a secret this good can’t die.
By Cannibal Jones6 years ago in Horror
Crows
Chapter One: Enter the Owl Kashshaptu Part Two: The Old Cabin Henry closed the car door and was immediately soaked with buckets of rain. He wanted to look up in the trees at the owls but found it impossible without the headlights on. The wet leaves were nearly knee-high as he continued toward the cabin door. Now that he was at the door, he could see a faint glow coming through the cracks of the boards. This was a terrible cabin. How has it lasted this long? he wondered. He knocked three times. A couple seconds of silence passed for eternity. Then a voice cracked over the thunder…
By Cannibal Jones6 years ago in Horror
The Yakutia Mystery
Chapter One - Finding it Yuri Vasiliev, at 55 years old, was surprisingly tough as nails. A stocky build with graying hair, his body a mass of sinewy muscles sculptured by years of digging for mammoth remains in the hills. In his local village in Yakutia, Russia, he was affectionately known as "the bull," a nickname his wife Nadia found rather amusing. Yuri and Nadia were poor, childless mammoth hunters who lived at the bottom of the Sakha mountain frontier. For centuries, this northern region of Russia had been an unforgiving and desolate permafrost once teeming with giant mammoths before their demise and disappearance from the face of the earth. Shifting weather patterns have recently led to a significant thaw of the permafrost, revealing what Yakutians referred to as a "treasure trove" of mammoth remains, highly prized in China. First described in the Siberian Times as the mammoth rush, mammoth hunting has recently exploded into a thriving local economy, attracting hunters from all over Russia into Yakutia, the kingdom of permafrost.
By Will Mathonsi6 years ago in Horror
The Scent of Desire (Pt. 2)
John Dillinger Connelly had been named for a legend. His mom, a wild young firecracker, had been enamored with stories of the notorious gangster’s Robin Hood persona and with the romance of rebellion. JD had grown up with a name as heavy as a mantle of state in a revolving household of well-meaning but dysfunctional relatives, and while he had not become a steely-eyed gangster, he was not without his own set of shadowy skills. The irony of his life was that those skills had made him an asset to Nick and Tess, setting him on a path of legitimate employment that even helped people. It had been the other thing, the coyote trickster in him, that had got him killed. He sat on the cane seat of a ladder-backed chair in the corner of Tess’s bedroom with his hands on his knees watching her drag shirts and leggings from her backpack and sling them onto the bed. She was angry, probably with him, and he felt the familiar sting of remorse that had so often followed his ill-considered adventures while he had lived.
By Liz Zimmers6 years ago in Horror
The Watering Can
Audrey filled her flower watering can up to the predetermined level—clearly marked on the outside of the can. She carefully set the can on the footstool near the door, and returned to the kitchen to wipe off the counter. A few minutes later, she returned to the door preparing to go outside and water her plants.
By Dub Wright6 years ago in Horror
Where Souls Go
Angela McBriant was sitting in the gravel on the side of the road. Her hands were lazily drawing shapes in the dirt. She had tan skin, thick, bushy, black hair, and a very vibrant yellow dress on. The dress had an equally as vibrant green stripe around the middle, with a big bow on her left side. Her dress was now dirty from crouching in the messy gravel. Angela felt fine and dandy sitting there, though it was a little too hot for her taste. Right now her bushy hair was pulled back into two thick braids that ended in two big puffs and sweat was beginning to collect at her hairline.
By James Slocum6 years ago in Horror
Grimwood
The fear held him there, frozen. Even the voice in his head had become a hushed whisper. The moon had just begun to shine brilliantly into the ebon night, but all he could see were those dead, yellow eyes. He was too scared to even breath aloud. The coyote let a growl escape to express his exasperated confusion. That growl was just enough for Daniel to gain some mobility back into his legs. He slowly stepped backwards with his arms outstretched behind him, feeling for the ladder of the hunting-stand. The dead leaves crunched under his foot. The coyote's growl grew louder as it lowered its body, preparing to leap. Daniel could all too easily imagine those curved teeth keenly sliding into his flesh and tearing off gushy chunks. The adrenaline forced a very primal scream, tearing through Daniels throat, "Rrrreeeeeaaaahhhhhhhh!!!!!!" The coyote paused, seeming to ponder if this next meal would pose much of a problem. Please dear God, Daniel thought, if you could just get me out of one more mess... I promise to help everyone and to always keep my room clean. The coyote took a single step back. Yessss, Daniel rejoiced a little in perfect silence, That's it!
By Cannibal Jones6 years ago in Horror
The Scent of Desire
He does not float. Grappled by the river’s currents, tumbled in the arms of the river, as he had tumbled in the arms of the demon, he speeds along the silted terrain where suicides have left their bones. He has become a citizen of the dark, turbulent country of the watery dead, deep under the darting fish bellies, under the silver flashes and nonjudgmental eyes of those who regard him merely as provender. But he is not a suicide, nor yet some murderer’s prey. He is a sacrifice on the altar of desire, eager and aghast at once, his heart a delicacy served up in its bloody sauce of folly. He felt it beat just once as she ground it between her teeth, and even then, he reached for her.
By Liz Zimmers6 years ago in Horror
