Top Stories
Stories in Horror that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
An Adventure Through Hell
Emaciated arms covered by the tiniest bit of flesh capture me, holding me close to its decaying form. Gnarled and thin fingers pull my dark hair. Screams of anguish surround me, somehow reverberating from the empty chasm. I punch and watch as bits of grey flesh disintegrate into dust. Scratching at the caverns where its eyes should have been, I could only hope for an end to this hell. The sounds of torment continued, assaulting my ears with one tremendous roar.
By Isabella Rose2 years ago in Horror
Twisting Through the Doorways
A grand bronze-coloured staircase leads nowhere. It is adorned in dim and sensual lights, the golden glimmer of the chandelier adding elegance and richness to the room. This is the biggest room in the unknown home. A house made of multi-sized doors leading to multi-dimensional rooms. Some exist in daylight, some exist sideways against child-like postered walls.
By Oneg In The Arctic2 years ago in Horror
At the Sheltering Doors
The doors, they always scrambled for the doors first. When they arrive and always by night it was a race to desperately bar the creatures entry to the house in the slow crawl of numb feet that the dream would impose upon him. He never seemed fast enough and the creatures uninhibited by the same constraints always made the doors first. The houses in his dream-scapes vary night to night - Some are mansions, others shacks and some are distorted contortions of his childhood home which burned down when he was ten. But the doors are always the same – frail, loose hinged and never could be fully shut. The creatures too vary – twisted and corrupted forms of animals and people familiar to him: family dogs preternaturally swollen to twice their size with rotting coats of mange and slicked damp with dark liquids of decay. The people too were bloated vestiges of ones vaguely familiar to him but whose names escape him. Their eyes gorged wide with dark blood which streaked their mottled faces in crusted trails like lost rivers which hung from their chins swinging in ropy columns beneath paling yellowed teeth. To let them break through would mean death. This he knew with grave certainty. At the door was desperation and panic as their stench emanated forth, sickly and pungent like vomit and mold and ending in a gruesome exhalation like cancer, the stench sticky and clinging invading his nostrils and lungs never to be expunged. Then in the sudden waking he never knew if he repelled them or not.
By Kevin Rolly2 years ago in Horror
Metagoth. Content Warning.
This is the opening chapter of my outrageous splatterpunk novelette METAGOTH, now available from Godless and Amazon. Rosa pinioned her hands against the cubicle as her bowels jetted a red-brown soup into the porcelain. Her stage fright always started in the gut, though Rosa would never have admitted that's what it was. And it never got easier. The tension of stepping out in front of a crowd of unimpressed, unenthusiastic punters caused her gastric contortions she was unable to contain. Fortunately, the smell of some agoraphobic chemist's notion of a pine forest covered up her own colonic aromas.
By Addison Alder2 years ago in Horror
