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.
An Ode to Cousin Luciano
Illinois, 1936 The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night a candle burned in the window. The flame marked the end of a ritual that occurred on nights of tragedy and attempted to signal a hope for what was to come next. Since its first manifestation well over fifteen years ago, the ritual seemed to transpire more and more frequently.
By Nash Ryder4 years ago in Horror
Paint
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. Aldwin Eliot might not have noticed the light if he hadn’t been feverishly painting the old log cabin onto his canvas. He peered through the glass window from where he sat in his parent’s hunting shack, canvas and acrylics dominating the flimsy card table in front of him. He downed the dregs of some cheap coffee and ran a hand over his unshaven face, squinting out the window into the trees. The cabin hunkered just across the edge of his parents’ property, locked and abandoned since he was a kid. He’d never thought much of it before, but now, in the moonlit evening, nestled in the crooked pines, it demanded to be painted. He had dabbled a dot of yellow in one of the windows because it felt right, and turned out, the dot of paint WAS right. A single candle flickered in the right window of the actual cabin. Strange. He spit out a few drops of murky paint into the trash bin nearby. He really needed to stop biting the end of his paintbrush.
By Miriam Beckwith4 years ago in Horror
Until the Wick Burns Out
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. The surrounding forest once bustling with creatures of the night had now fallen silent, with the only sign of life being the solitary flame. The centuries-old trees that should be leafy green in the middle of summer, have now wilted into nothingness--bare limbs tell the tale of lost vigor. The pungent odor of decay repels even the most ravenous of scavengers, as if the dilapidated cabin has a force-field of death around its perimeter. No man nor beast dare to come within the radius of what would assuredly cause their untimely demise. The small town of Harthesborough, Minnesota would never forget the dark events that took place just outside of its peoples’ residences.
By Antonio Sanchez4 years ago in Horror
The Abandoned Cabin
The cabin in the woods has been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. Melissa must have arrived already you think as you pull up outside the cabin. The woods are beautiful in the golden autumnal sun that’s just about to slip over the horizon. There are old pines and ferns, and woodland mushrooms with their caps peaking out of the undergrowth. The wind is picking up and screams through the trees and vines causing them to whip around the mossy windows of the dilapidated cabin. It does not look like your normal choice of holiday destination.
By Laura Cope4 years ago in Horror
The Faucet and the Drips
The Faucet It was pouring on that day, even more than the day before. I remember mindlessly scoping through Crave for something interesting to watch, bored out of my mind. I was curled on the couch with a small blanket lazily bunched over my legs, a bowl of popcorn kernels slanted near the far arm of the couch. The screen continuously changed hue as I shifted through show after show. Nothing sparked an interest. I had thought maybe it was the rain pelting against the roof that put me in a depressed state. I never did like the rain nor the disgusting worms that were summoned by it. Again a long sigh left me as I hunched over to grab the bowl, making my way through the dark house to the kitchen. I casually flicked on the stove light as it was bright enough to make out the area while placing the bowl in the sink, whose faucet had a drip I could never solve. I had leaned against the counter for a moment, taking in a breath as the ‘tap, tap, tap’’ of water played in the background. The house was utterly silent except for that, and for a reason, I still cannot explain a shiver ran up my spine. Suddenly I whipped around as I felt a quick shallow breath blow against my nape. I was met with the darkness of the hallway. I was alone. I swear to you that it had not been the first occurrence of such an event. Of course, I always played it off as those crime shows steeping into my tired brain. Speaking of which, I had glanced at the time while my heart had yet to finish thumping. It was a quarter past three, so I decided to turn in for the night.
By Courtney Chesney4 years ago in Horror
