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.
Chirp, Chee, Chirp
Timothy’s mother said goodnight, turned out the light, and closed the door. He lay awake in his bed in the dark. The sound of the trees blowing in the wind outside kept him awake just long enough to hear his mother flush the toilet before she retired.
By Varsha Kewalramani3 years ago in Horror
Behind Closed Doors
“Go brush your teeth, honey.” Red and swollen were her eyes as she said it, her smile sad, her fingers digging into the supple flesh of his arms harder than she had intended to. He didn’t blame her, but he did flinch out of her grip and slipped his sleeve in his mouth, chewing. “Mama will be up in a couple minutes.” Nodding, he clenched his jaw and traveled up the stairs, climbed one step at a time until the fabric of his pajama was wet in his mouth. Focusing on the sounds he made helped; stepping stool scraping against the bathroom tiles, tap water running, bristles brushing against baby teeth, spitting and rinsing. He had gotten better at it—the ignoring. It was like background TV noise now, sort of, loud and garbled as the morning channels that told adult-only news on endless loops. He didn’t really like those, just like he didn’t like this, but he’d picked up the habit of tuning it out. Mama had taught him.
By Varsha Kewalramani3 years ago in Horror
The lonely hut
Oliver and Thomas’ Vacation Oliver and Thomas were very close friends, and they knew one another from their child hood. Oliver and Thomas studied in the same School at their hometown. Oliver's father was a merchant in the town. But Thomas's father was a Government employee. Since Thoma's father was a Government Employee he used to get transfers to many locations in the country. Accordingly Thomas needs to change his school often as his father gets transfer. But once in a while, Thomas visits his hometown to see his relatives and friends, especially Oliver.
By Ahamed Bilal3 years ago in Horror
Noctuary
Damian sat with his legs dangling over the edge of the rocking deck of the ship, holding onto the lower rung of the metal railing and gazing at the horizon. The waning sunset was a blaze of glorious color, the drifting clouds purple against the red western sky, with the swells of the Atlantic ocean sapphire-blue beneath. The old adage red sky at night, sailor’s delight bobbed to the surface of his thoughts.
By Varsha Kewalramani3 years ago in Horror
Butterscotch the Brave
Not so long ago and not so far away there lived a knight: Butterscotch the Brave. At first glance, he appeared unimpressive and his only defining features were his namesake butterscotch-coloured curls. He was not particularly muscly, nor was he exceptionally tall (in fact, he was slightly shorter than average), but his loyalty and big heart were second-to-none - matched only by his bravery. The night Butterscotch’s bravery was born began in a place few would expect: a child’s bedroom.
By Varsha Kewalramani3 years ago in Horror
Fantastic Variations on an Old Rhyme - ~A Pastiche~
Fantastic Variations on an Old Rhyme ~A Pastiche~ Scritch-scritch-scritch. There it was again: a faint scrabbling sound. Gert exhaled loudly, flipped her pillow to the cool side, and pulled the quilt over her head.
By Varsha Kewalramani3 years ago in Horror
The Hunted Time
Living in a small city had its gratuities. Everyone knew everyone like a grandma knew her fashions. Yeah, people talked and scented around in each other’s business, but there was a sense of security knowing I was familiar with everyone around me. It was nearly as if our city was an entire earth itself, amiss from other worlds and fully independent. Stumbleton was home; it always had been. Yet, commodity stuck out like a slapdash hair on a stubborn sprat’s head.This.this was the earth on our city’s affable face. A dying rose in a field of flourishing flowers.
By Smriti Sultana3 years ago in Horror
The Son of Cinderella
Being the son of Cinderella, you’d think I lived a charmed life, or so says the eldest heir to the Charming family. But by the time I reached the age of six, I had already tired of hearing the story about my mother, and to this day, it makes me sick. “Fairy Godmothers, indeed,” I cried out to mt mother. “I’m seventeen! Do you still expect me to believe that childish story?”
By Varsha Kewalramani3 years ago in Horror
The Giant Acorn
Mila shuddered as she clung to the cattail over hanging the river. She was a rabbit and could swim if she wanted to; but she was frightened of what lurked just under the surface. Vlad the Chomper floated as still as a bumpy green log, only his bulbous, lichen-colored eyes glared upwards at her. She knew that under the water his one hundred gnarly pointed teeth stuck out from his long, grinning, alligator snout.
By Varsha Kewalramani3 years ago in Horror
