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 Devil’s Checkbook
I ran my hands through my hair, releasing a heavy sigh, scattered documents laid before me on my bed. ‘Bill Past Due.’ There is a tenseness in my muscles accompanied with a violent whirl of stress that plagued my brain, the in-organization of my life making chaos in my mind. I had bills to pay up the ass and with my hours at work getting cut back, it was going to be even harder to maintain my subpar lifestyle.
By shadai alexander5 years ago in Horror
The Unfolding Adventures of the little black book.
Today is the day, I, Holly Greensburg, will change for the better. It's been weeks since I've found a job and living on unemployment seems to do less and less to get me anywhere in life. At least anywhere but here.
By Caramella Stevie5 years ago in Horror
City of Dreams
I’ve been having strange dreams lately, but perhaps strangest of all was the one where I was in a Las Vegas casino. I had never been to Vegas, yet in this dream, I knew precisely where I was. I was at the Bellagio and from where I was seated, I could see the fountains outside. I was drinking a beer, smoking a cigarette. In life, I do not smoke.
By Austin Harvey5 years ago in Horror
Cash For The Desperate
"I’ve had nowt but rice for weeks, I had to wait for some smarmy government official to deem me poor enough for a blasted food bank ticket!" An old woman dressed in a thick winter coat and a headscarf piped up loudly, as though for the benefit of the other people queued behind her. "We barely had to use food banks when I was young and there certainly wasn't this ridiculous waiting!" She huffed and wrapped her coat tighter around herself with a dramatic shiver.
By Stace Oddity5 years ago in Horror
Never judge a book by it's cover
His hair. It just always seems to fall in the right way against his strong jaw. Eyes, the color of a cold trickling stream reflecting a forest of trees. So unique, that “green” couldn’t describe them. Those lips, so soft and welcoming, the kind that would match perfectly for a kiss. I can almost taste it, salivating at the thought of his lips on mine.
By Lauren Dee5 years ago in Horror
HIM
The city was growing, construction never stopped. Everything was changing, everything was dirty and loud. They just shipped off the somewhat homeless Irish section of town to make room for more new buildings. And Seneca Village was being taken over to become some grand park. 1950’s New York City was a dirty mess. And John had lost his sense of joy a long time ago. He was walking home from his job in the NYC tunnels. He was lamenting over how much he used to enjoy his walk through the quaint neighborhoods of before. He was beginning to feel anger over things lost when he tripped over a large black book.
By M. Leigh Patterson5 years ago in Horror
The House on Cortland Road
It wasn't the perfect house by any means, but it was up for $100,000 right on a beautiful lake in a nice, rural community surrounded by forest and farmland. That should've been the first red flag. It was the year 2000, my husband and I were young and naive, only twenty-five years old. We had been married for two years and had saved every penny we had to buy our first home. We had decided to move so I could be closer to work, I worked as a veterinary technician and he was going to be starting a new job as a human resources manager.
By Cara Sanford5 years ago in Horror
She Was Like The Tree
"So what makes you a good candidate for this job?" asked the interviewer named Paul. I inhaled and paused. All I could think of was how hideous and lazy his name was for a man so bland with his creepy smile. Paul's office smelled bad too. It was the horrible smell of someone's mystery leftovers microwaved in a crappy oven. So Paul looks bad and his whole essence reeks. I know I have misplaced anger, I am aware of this. It has hindered my growth in every way emotionally and subconsciously. I understand Paul hasn't done anything to warrant such a cruel and judgemental conception but for now, I think of a response. "I am an honest person which comes quite perfectly since I will be handling money. I am also a great communicator and team player. Also, I find I am good at anything if I am taught it well." I held back a smirk. I truly disliked this man. Maybe it was my intuition, I didn't hate everyone but those I had for reasons quite unknown, I believed deserved it. Paul smiled, "Very good answer." The interview was thankfully over. I shook his hand and left slowly making sure to take a look around on my way out. I grew up in this town my whole life and had never been here to its famous clock museum. I wondered if anyone at all came. Only one lady seemed to be there and she was working at the front desk. Paul had disappeared and I had some questions, but not for him. I quietly stood in front of the lady who was sneakily texting. I cleared my throat when a minute had passed and she hadn't noticed me. She looked up. "Shit, sorry!" she exclaimed and pulled out wireless earbuds which were hidden by her luscious brown curly hair. "No worries. I had a couple of questions." I say and look around. "How much do you get paid. For real." She smiles a bit. "Enough to do nothing all day. About 10 an hour after they take out all the taxes or whatever." I wonder if it's worth the walk to sit here six hours a day for ten dollars an hour. "Thanks," I say and turn. It was something to keep in mind. "Are you an artist or something?" she asks gesturing to my splattered jacket and handbag. "Yeah, something like that. A lot of my art is actually quite illegal," I say fidgeting with my red hat before putting it on. "That's awesome!" her face lit up. Then Skeletor returned, " I see you've met Lacey," he said with an odd expression. "I hope you both won't cause me any trouble." He laughed a bit uncomfortably for all of us. "Oh, so I guess I'll see you next week then, I can come in whenever you need me to." I perk up and demand a favorable response with my body language without breaking eye contact. "Uh, yes. You'll hear from me," he closes his creepy smile into a straight line. "See you around." I wave to Lacey as I walk out.
By The Last Angel On Earth 5 years ago in Horror
