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.
Whispers of the Forgotten: A Descent into Eldoria Manor
Season 1 Whispers of the Forgotten: A Descent into Eldoria Manor Chapter 1 The wind howled its mournful song, a dirge for the dying day and the ancient secrets it stirred. Eldoria Manor stood silhouetted against a bruise-purple sky, a monolithic scar on the horizon, its skeletal chimneys clawing at the clouds. Locals whispered of its blight, of the unspeakable acts that stained its foundations, but for Professor Alistair Finch, a seasoned parapsychologist with more skeptical victories than genuine encounters, Eldoria represented a new kind of challenge .. a legacy he couldn't afford to ignore.
By Tales That Breathe at Night5 months ago in Horror
Werewolf
Eddy Bauer sat in the driver’s seat of a semi – truck. It idled noisily as the big monster semi slid into the parking lot of the Shady Pines Truck Stop. Eddy’s hair was white and thinning. He wore a camouflage hat that said Hell Yeah. He shut off the radio which had been blaring Willy Nelson’s on the road again. Eddy jumped out of the semi and he filled up with diesel gasoline. He walked inside the little, shack like gas station and he approached the cube like, checkout counter. A man with straight black hair and glasses stood behind the counter. His nametag read Hank. He wore square looking glasses and he was abnormally thin. “That’ll be 15.75.” hank said stiffly.
By DJ Robbins5 months ago in Horror
My life was cursed with four trials. The last one was at Narita Airport.
My life has been defined by a prophecy. When I was three years old and dying, my grandmother carried me to a temple on Mount Putuo, a sacred site for Guanyin, the Bodhisattva of Compassion. A wise old abbess told her that my life was not written in the stars; it was a gift, stolen from fate by Guanyin herself. But such gifts come with a price. I would face four great trials—four moments where fate would try to reclaim me. They would come at ages three, thirteen, twenty-three, and thirty-three. Each one would be harder to survive than the last.
By SupernaturalEast5 months ago in Horror
Natural Insticts of the Basic Houseplant
“Good morning, Frank, my buddy. I got you some fresh coffee, careful because it is hot,” the gray-haired man with sausagy fingers dangling over my cubicle wall says to me. His voice is like the velvet bench at the center of your hometown strip joint.
By Amos Glade5 months ago in Horror
