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.
Her Spirit Awaits (Pt. 1)
“The day started off like any other day. There was a crisp, autumn feel in the air. Perfect sweater weather. The scent of pumpkin spice filled the hallways, typical. Everyone was on their way to class. Everything was normal. No one was acting any different, they had no reason to. Except for him, Allen Foster, but he always acted weird. He majored in journalism and was very dedicated to his stories. He had gotten in trouble a few times already for going a little too far. It seemed like there wasn’t anything that kid wouldn’t do for a good story. His current topic was no different. The Clara Brooks Building of Performing Arts. The building had been shut down since the 60s, so it was strange that it was still there. The school used to do monthly tours, but then suddenly stopped. Why hadn’t it been renovated or torn down? Why was it shut down in the first place? Allen needed to find out. All he could do was breathe in the mystery surrounding the place, because the building was restricted. Too many weird things happened around it, so they cut off access to it. Allen didn’t care, though. This story could make or break him and he was determined to be the person that finally solved the mystery of…”
By Kayla Estremera7 years ago in Horror
The Man Who Shook
I felt the usual breeze of the passing train as I stood waiting for mine. It was a quarter until 11 when I realized that I was one of a few people at the station that night. There were some other business-type people like me to my left, standing a good distance away. But a few feet to my right was an old man in a long woolen, gray coat and a brown hat. He was hunched over, staring at the ground. He was shaking terribly as if he were cold.
By Emily Ericson7 years ago in Horror
The Water’s Edge
Every night at dusk like clockwork, we would see him come out from the hidden interior of his island. He would leave the shelter of the ancient trees to stand by the water’s edge. Seemingly waiting for something. Sometimes, his eyes even met mine, even for just a second before he looked away again. His mouth was always moving, like he was yelling, or trying to tell us something, but no sound ever reached our ears. We thought he was crazy. For years this continued, we would stand on the shoreline and wait for him to step into the light of the setting sun, like a ritual. And for years we had no idea who he was or what he did until one fateful night when we came across a faded red canoe, docked near the sandy shore of the beach where we grew up. The paint was chipped in several places and the wood itself was rotting away. A cool autumn breeze swept across the field that we have always called home. The setting sun was blocked by an overcast sky well, that and the trees planted on the island that reached for the heavens. Small waves lapped up on the shore, our bare feet just out of reach from its icy grip, the waves extending like glass fingers reaching out for us. We had never seen this boat before. Our two families were the only ones who lived on this side of the lake. Our two little houses stood side by side, barely a few feet away from each other, like they were as good of friends as the families that lived inside them. There were no other houses, let alone any buildings, for miles and neither of us owned any sort of boat.
By Emily Bell7 years ago in Horror
The Tunnel
The rock door had paintings on it, just as it was described in the stories. The history of the beast; large, hungry, and fanged. It fed on us but we found ways to keep it at bay—barely—with rituals and prayers. The tunnel behind this door was cursed and blessed. Cursed through the challenges it would throw at you as you tried to reach the end, but whoever was worthy enough to finish would be blessed with the strength to finally destroy the beast. I’d heard stories since I was a child. Fierce men and women would train for whatever challenges they thought they may face, and bravely enter the tunnel. No one ever came back out. Now it was my turn. I hadn’t trained; I wasn’t a Competitor. This week they hadn’t had a champion though, so I volunteered. Crazy, I know, but I am tired of seeing my friends disappear; tired of living in fear. Maybe I’ll get lucky. Or if nothing else, I won’t be afraid anymore.
By Jeanette Later7 years ago in Horror
The Haunted Mind Chapter 1
The gravel crunched beneath the wheels of the carriage as it pulled to a stop outside the late Baron Rathbone's estate. I climbed out and the driver was already waiting with my bag and brolly. I turned my collar to the cold, damp fog which permeated everything with its heavy presence. Even the light from the gas lamps couldn't cut through its stubborn thickness.
By David Backus7 years ago in Horror
Unlucky
The black liquid was oil, we were sure of it at first. We were sure that we had found our treasure chest, our pot of gold. We actually started writing down all the ways we’d spend the money. The first choice was a vacation home in Hawaii, but later Jack scratched that because it was “cliche.” We had to agree with him. Alex was the only one of the three of us who was tied down—awesome wife, Jamie, and a baby girl named Lily—so he was only thinking of college funds and savings. Jack and me though, we had the high life screaming in our veins--and what we heard was a socially elite, high-rolling-bouncers’ needed 24/7-private access bachelor pad. In Holland. Every luxury catered to.
By Jeanette Later7 years ago in Horror
The Hollows
We tried to warn the King. He was new to our land, and while we had been humble in the take over, we were adamant that he leave the forest alone. He didn’t listen. We knew he couldn’t understand the consequences—couldn’t understand the capabilities nestled so peacefully between the leaves and bushes. At least, they used to be peaceful.
By Jeanette Later7 years ago in Horror
