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.
Purgatory
The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. She had not a clue how long she had been here, her crumpled body propped in the corner like a puppet. She hardly cared. Her entire existence came in the form of the sun and moon that danced across the cracked glass of the window. That window. She stared at it almost constantly. At least when he wasn’t in the room. Which, to her displeasure, seemed less and less the case. He fed her. Dripped water onto her parched tongue. Even sometimes changed the sweaty rags that hung from her cachectic frame. But his eyes were, in every sense of the word, unpleasant. His voice, grating on her mind. His touch, slimy against her skin.
By Amber Fern3 years ago in Horror
Christmas Eve Dinner
The black limousine pulled up outside his battered tenement building. Harold saw it from the dingy window, and as he turned to shamble towards the door, he coughed wetly into his elbow. His stomach lurched, and he felt that he would undoubtedly fill his pants. Harold was old, fifty-eight in March, and in his time, Harold had done many great deeds. He had served in the army during World War two in his youth, fighting for his country and earning great honor on the battlefield. That was the only way a Squiresdale boy escaped this rusty trap in those days, and Harold had returned with a purple heart and the respect of his neighbors and friends. He had shaken the hand of Wilbur Wilmington, the bloody king of Squiresdale in those days, as Wilbur told him how proud he was of his sacrifice. His rat-faced son had glowered from the row of folding chairs as the town clapped for the four men who had been drafted into the war and returned home. It had felt odd standing up there where he had stood with thirty men only five years before, and the ones who'd come back were less and more than they had been. That day, those four men, Harold included, had been the talk of the town, and the Wilmington's had tipped their heads to those heroes for that day.
By Joshua Campbell3 years ago in Horror
A Moment of Despair
By the time we arrived at our destination, it was past midnight. The sky had a pale red hue, as the blood moon was partially obscured by heavy clouds. The night was long and tiring. We had been walking for three consecutive days, surviving on dates and dried meat. My legs were sore, covered in blisters filled with pus.
By Muangakili3 years ago in Horror
The Ghost Hunters of Oakdale: A Tale of a Abandoned Village
Prologue The village of Oakdale had always been a small and peaceful place, nestled deep in the heart of the forest. Its residents were a tight-knit community, bound together by a shared history and a love for their little corner of the world.
By Rey Visionary3 years ago in Horror
"The Youth's Emotions" creepy pasta story
There are certain moments in my life that are etched into my memory with vivid detail, and I'm not sure if this is a blessing or a curse, as there are also times that I would prefer to forget completely. One of the most significant of these memories is from a play that I saw. While I have enjoyed many stage shows and movies, there was something special about the live actors and the energy of a live performance that made it feel more real to me. From a young age, I was drawn to the magic of the stage and made a habit of seeing as many plays as I could. I eventually moved to the city to be closer to the action and even the cost of tickets was not an issue for something that I loved so much. One play in particular stood out to me: "Hearts of the Young." I had seen the poster for the show on the streets near a popular theatre in the city, and what caught my eye was that it was free. While some may have assumed that the show would be subpar due to the lack of cost, I was always open to experiencing free entertainment."
By Ravi Prajapati3 years ago in Horror
The Winter Lord
December is a time of cheer and goodwill for most of the world. People exchange gifts, sing songs, houses are decorated, big meals are eaten with friends and family. Molly didn't learn about any of this until after she left the village. She'd spent her first year away from home getting odd sidelong stares and hearing repressed mumbles as she asked about their preparations and inquired about their sacrifices. No one seemed to know about Him, which filled Molly with hope.
By Joshua Campbell3 years ago in Horror
Footprints in the Snow
It was New Year’s Eve. It was colder than shit. The pavement was unobstructed, even though dry, powdery white snow floated peacefully down from the black, starry night sky. The Presbyterian Church was the best place for skating – at least for skaters of our skill level, and we were the only skaters in town. It’s parking lot featured a nice little gap, and an absolutely pristine three-stair. We would ollie it again and again, late into the night – well into the early morning.
By Robert Pettus3 years ago in Horror
