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.
Abduction
Only two days have passed as I wander around the common area, seeing the meatheads wasting time with the two nurses at the station. There's an ache in my legs that I am ignoring as I walk my usual path around the common area, only occasionally looking up at the television on the wall. Like everyone, I am in my hospital-style pants and scrub-style shirt. We stick out like sore thumbs, our patient uniforms being such a dim mix of blues and whites. It's almost farcical, how much this place reminds me of the stereotypical television show-styled mental ward. A few of the patients here still wear their robes, never taking them off as far as I can tell. Edward, the chess player, appears to sleep in his and then get directly back to chess after his morning coffee and bagel. None of us notice much about Edward, other than his dingy robe and the odor coming from it. I have long since grown accustomed to not seeing his morning coffee, his bagel or his chess partner. So have the rest of the staff and patients, so I'm not alone.
By Jason Ray Morton 5 years ago in Horror
Into the dark
I have no memory before this exact moment. My eyes wince at the intense brightness and attempt to adjust. I feel the sensation of cold and look down. Bare feet stand on the tiled floor. Before me is a brushed metal counter, no, more like a long shallow trough. A series of faucets are set above it. Above that is a mirror that runs the length of this room. I look into it and see nothing I recognize looking back at me. A stranger’s face, a stranger’s eyes, reflect someone gaunt, tired, miserable. Those eyes are bloodshot and red-rimmed. I raise a thin hand to feel hot swollen cheeks damp from tears, I think. My body is wearing some loose coarse woven long shift. It is plain, off-white, and shapeless. Upon my head is lightly pinned some near-transparent pale iridescent scarf. It’s so insubstantial that the pins seem to barely hold it to my hair. It might float away on its own if not anchored. This scrutiny does not help me understand who I am or why I am here.
By J. Greenfield 5 years ago in Horror
The Nymph
I stared up at the bright Moon, wondering what it must be like to be so far away from the cold, clutching embrace of the water. Up there in the vast empty sky, she must be so free, unlike me, confined to this tank. I’ve been trapped here against my will for about 40 years now. I watched the human who trapped me grow old and weary. His once handsome face now scarred deeply with the telltale signs of ageing. He was going to die, I could see the dark tendrils of Death wrap around his body. But they were invisible to the eyes of mortals. I took some solace in this knowledge, that any day now he would drop dead and succumb to the fate that awaited all mortals. Maybe then I’ll be able to return to my sisters.
By Shinissa Kaur5 years ago in Horror
Tumble Dry Low
Disappointment poured over Dalton when the walls finally stopped melting. The hit of White Dove blotter had been sold to him with the same words he’d heard every other time he’d bought acid - the “standard acid warning” the dealers gave him. “You’ve done acid before, right?” they’d ask, as if they wouldn’t sell it to him unless he had previous experience. After his affirmative nod they’d add, “Ok, now only do half of this at a time.” Then they’d hand it over, usually a small square of blotter with some inventive pattern printed on it, or a brightly colored micropill, like the nitros his grandfather used to take, but in neon shades.
By Mike Oakwood5 years ago in Horror
Food for Fools
I’ll be lucky if I’m only nursing a headache by the end of the night. I’d never quite realized how loud a group of people can get before, but now with music blasting in my ears as partygoers screech along, I’m beginning to get an idea. It seems like there’s some sort of correlation between the wild behavior and the noise: the more reckless they act, the louder they scream. At this point, I’m seriously beginning to wonder why I even decided to come here in the first place, especially if I am just going to hide in the corner the entire time.
By Murdering Media5 years ago in Horror
THIRD LIGHT
“Mason. Cleanup. Aisle ten. Mayonnaise.” Mason worked at the market since he was old enough to get a job, since he was sixteen. Last year, the autumn after he graduated high school, he requested the night shift. He’s worked it for about eighteen months, refusing any requests to work any other shift, and refused to work past five A.M., especially in the summer.
By Michael Z. Atrata5 years ago in Horror
An Excerpt From The Island
* * * * * * * * * * Ernest Chadwick stood rooted to the spot, a pawn to puzzlement. He felt like a tree that has suddenly borne the most unlikely of fruits and contemplates a sly sacrifice to the passing breeze. It seemed that all but his mind was motionless as questions ricocheted back and forth in his head, amorphous pinballs dragging vapor trails in their wake.
By Ad-Libbing With The Z-Man5 years ago in Horror
