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.
The Old Wives Tale Owl
Old wives tales were always a fascination of my hometown. In fact, it seemed almost cult-like how everyone truly believed in them. When I graduated from high school, I left with no intentions of returning. There was nothing for me in Millston, the remarkably small town of about three hundred residents. My soul was burning for something more passionate in life. I was eager to leave it all behind and start an adventurous life doing anything new.
By Amy Perkins4 years ago in Horror
The Voices Made Me Do It
I was ten years old when the whispers started. At first, they were quiet. Little voices urging me to do little things, like breaking my mother’s dishes or slashing my father’s tires. My parents brought me to the doctor, and she asked me why I would smash my mother’s china. The voices told me to do it, I had said. If I don’t do what they say they scream so loud until my head hurts. She had only smiled at me and told me the voices were only my imagination. She told my parents I only wanted attention. I tried to tell them how the whispers never left, and how they always wanted me to do unimaginably horrible things. They denied me again and again, dismissing the voices as a need to be seen. They didn’t understand how insistent the voices became in the next six months.
By Hannah Clukies4 years ago in Horror
The Night Never Forgets
PHILIP The cold night glares at me, pulling each strand of hair on my now not-so-smooth skin. I feel so naked out here, like the night could see the horror locked within my heart, the secret buried, never to be dug up. It's all an imagination I know; for one, I am clothed to my teeth, and I am aware that the night cannot see; it's all in my mind. Why is this different, though? This is not the first secret I have had to store away. For eighteen years, I have carried another secret, one much more frightening. So why is this different? Why does it feel like I am surrounded by it? The darkness envelops me, causing each breath to feel like a struggle; with shaky hands, I take a puff of my inhaler, desperate for air; the first puff feels like nothing, then a second puff. That does the magic; with a deep breath, I feel each muscle begin to relax, 'I got this,' I said to myself, I got this. I stand from the dusty old wooden chair and glance at my watch; this gesture would not come without a smile on a typical day. Each time I glanced at the beautiful piece, the gold contrast with green metal dangling on my wrist felt exciting, the beauty of it. Today, however, is not a typical day. Today it only serves the purpose of time, which I do not have the luxury of; I take a step forward to begin the task at hand.
By Datari Elizabeth Ambrose Hart4 years ago in Horror
The Owl that Rides the Coyote
The Owl that Rides the Coyote The highway was dark and empty. He had a long drive through the night, fueled only by three energy drinks, ice-cold air conditioning, and loud music. He had to stay awake, and the energy drinks were already failing him. His eyes were getting heavy, and he knew this was dangerous, but he had to keep going. It wasn’t long before his head was bobbing with each blink of his eyes. “Damn,” He muttered and cracked open another energy drink.
By Shania Adyr4 years ago in Horror
THE PEEPER
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By Brian Keith McMurray4 years ago in Horror
537 Collectors Road
People move to Louisiana to get away or to settle down. Perfectly lovely people, most of the time. Like the newly wedded couple the house met many summers ago on the doorstep of 537 Collectors Road. A man and woman whose love shone bright in their eyes no matter the darkness or shadow that leered. Perfect for each other, perfect together, total perfection.
By Elizabeth Kaye Daugherty4 years ago in Horror
Blood Hunter
From the bowels of darkness a woman screams, a scream that echoes through the valley and reverberates off the mountains. As the echo fades, a strange voice that sounds like rocks grinding together is heard saying “It will…rain blood!” Followed by a laugh so evil that anyone who heard it pulled their cloaks a little tighter, grabbed their children, and locked their doors.
By Brett Arthur Wolfe4 years ago in Horror
The Ringing of Hawthorne
Rain poured down hard. Lightning flashed in the distance, and the sky overhead was growing darker and darker. Martha stood above the river looking down at the floating corpse of Ned Blackhorse. His belt had snagged on the branch of a fallen tree and he bobbed face down in the steady current like a pool toy. His arms were outstretched, creating a human crucifix. Martha peered down at the body, forgetting about her binoculars. The rain poured down hard and made hundreds of ripples around the body. Two turtles that sat on the log beside the corpse plopped into the water when Martha moved closer to the edge. The muddy lip of the edge crumbled under her weight and she fell nearly ten feet into the water below. The rim of the binoculars smashed into her upper lip when she hit the water and the gash bled intensely. She felt it swell up immediately and checked to see if any of her teeth had been smashed out as well. Her lip was numb and she tasted the saltiness of her own blood. It dripped from her lip down her chin, onto her shirt, into the water. She pressed her lip and it stung horribly. The rain poured down harder.
By Max Wickham4 years ago in Horror
