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.
Red Masterpiece
It’s a lie when told that family is only bound by blood, but Aneesa and Dakota defied this law. They were fertile twins from different mothers and with different fathers, yet they still remained biological in one another’s eyes. Their friendship was like being an alcoholic; once they passed the disgustingly bitter, burning taste, they become addicted, and as soon as they were hooked on one another, they became senseless and invincible, only to have the buzz crash once they’ve had too much. But by the next day, the bottle was back in their hands, and everything happened again.
By A'Dreana Anderson8 years ago in Horror
Unquiet Spirits Who Do Evil
I knew better than to go back to Sleepy Lake, the town I lived in thirty years ago, and where I almost lost my mind, and my life. Spirits from the underworld lived there, and the moment I drove back into town, I knew they still lived there, and they knew I was back. I also knew if I went through with my plan, they would kill me.
By Denise Willis8 years ago in Horror
Haunting Me (Part 2)
When you travel for a living, especially in a state as big as Texas, you spend a lot of time eating out of paper, cardboard and parchment. You also spend a lot of time drinking out of to-go cups. For the second time in my life the cop handed me a cup, this time filled with hot coffee. I held it in both hands, sitting on the edge of my bed, staring a blank TV. He sat in the room’s obligatory chair and watched me. I could tell he was used to dealing with sudden trouble and wasn’t about to let me catch him off guard. I held the cup, letting the warmth seep into my hands. I had almost touched Mia, and the cold still lingered, like how your hands feel after you dig through a bin of ice.
By Michael Bauch8 years ago in Horror
Haunting Me
There are some things that only ghosts and civil servants should know. That was a corny-ass line I’d heard years ago, attached to some direct-to-video b-horror movie. I never gave it much thought when I saw it, other than it sounded like someone who had too much to drink would say.
By Michael Bauch8 years ago in Horror
Prologue
Life. What is it truly? I can’t help but wonder what the point is in living such stresses constantly? Such a heavy question for someone who hasn’t even graduated yet. Prom, finals, graduation — these are the things a normal teenage girl should be worrying about. I guess I pulled the short straw. My last memory of normalcy had to be my 13th birthday.
By Kris Walker8 years ago in Horror
Paranormal Homicide
12th of August, 1984: Sarah White laid on top of the psychiatrist's Chaise Lounge as the psychiatrist, Peter King, sat beside her on his black leather office chair. Sarah White looked around the inside of the room from where she was laying from—the ceiling was painted in white, a turned off light bulb hung from the ceiling with a dark green lamp shade around it. The walls were covered in red maroon wallpaper, and just in front of her, there was a closed window revealing the busy streets of Liverpool outside. It was raining heavily that day. Rain drops were causing loud splashes against the glass. The room she was inside of was a rather small square-shaped room with a pine wooden door behind Peter King. The carpet in the room was patterned in beige and brown polka dots and the psychiatrist's desk stood nearby behind him with a computer on top of it next to a bunch of files.
By Joseph Roy Wright8 years ago in Horror
The Cracked Mirror
When the sting finally hit me, I knew I had been clipped; at that moment my wife’s beautiful face, which constantly haunted my memories, flashed across my mind. She had always begged me repeatedly to make safe choices and to return to her unharmed. Being a homicide detective, there are many things in my past that I have seen and done. Over the years, murder cases have lead me farther and farther from home. In this line of work, one wrong choice could end you. Now, I find myself lying on wet cobblestones, peering into the glassy waters of the vast darkness in the merciless ocean. Only a dim streetlight, nine or so steps away, could be seen cutting through the shadowy, gloom of nightfall displaying the bloody scene below. The intense pain surging through my head is no joke; rather it is an illusive memory to which I would love to forget, but unfortunately not possible just yet. I can feel myself slipping away into the darkness, which is engulfing my every miserable and intense breath I breathe. I didn’t want the darkness to over take me, but with what had happened today, and the events of moments ago changed everything.
By Olivia Webb8 years ago in Horror
