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 Fairy Ring
Dark thunder clouds had gathered in the sky all afternoon. The summer storms in this part of Ireland always grew quickly as the warm air began to wrestle with the cold sea air that blew in from the coast. The low rumble threatened a storm; all day the clouds gathered over the sea, moving closer and closer to the rocky coast. The sky grew darker as the sun began its descent. Rain drops began to drip here and there as another low, distant rumble echoed over the moors. Gran tapped her cane on the packed dirt and stared at the rolling clouds with pursed lips. Grey hair fluttered about her face, some strands coming loose from the bun she had tied earlier. Her wrinkled hands gripped the polished driftwood as she turned towards the house.
By Hali Moore7 years ago in Horror
Dark Secrets
Years ago, I had worked such a tragic case. It was cold and late at night when I received a call from a distraught couple. They had said that their daughter was missing. She was 5-years-old and seemed like a happy kid when one would see her out with her parents.
By Alexis Bellaw8 years ago in Horror
50 Two-Sentence Horror Stories
For some people, horror is all about building suspense. It's the slow ratcheting up of tension until you get a sudden explosion of terror, or a glimpse into the cosmic workings of some madman's universe. Two-sentence horror stories, though, challenge you to tell us a story without all that time and space. You have the space of a breath to reach into our brains, and hot-wire that fear response.
By Neal Litherland8 years ago in Horror
'The Conjuring' - More Real Than It Seems
Fear is a natural part of life. It is our safety mechanism, our minds warning us of potential dangers. Over more than a century some have capitalized and utilized this fear, and materialized it in the form of cinema. Most are fiction, and created using the writer's own knowledge. And there are some movies that have been based on real events. But more than not there is one movie that is strangely more realistic than it would seem.
By Valen Chrostowski8 years ago in Horror
Dispareo
It was a rainy Tuesday evening when the first 911 call came through. Jessica Chaplain was the operator on duty that night, and she claimed that June 24, 2013 will remain the worst night she has ever had. The strangeness of the event that unfolded that night and the following day has never been written or spoken about until now.
By Julia Marie8 years ago in Horror
Treasures of the Ferryman
The Ferryman’s Treasures: The Necromantic Doll Maker I am the Ferryman. Since the beginning of time, I have carried souls across the rift from one life unto the next. As time has passed by leaving me unchanged I have learned one thing: Humanity is the most vile yet entertaining form of life that walks this earth. Over the centuries I have come across many souls, however, that have captured my interest with their sins, losses, loves, and deaths. One could say I keep them from facing judgment in exchange for keeping me entertained. One such young soul was Evelyn Fairclough.
By Jonathan Sutton8 years ago in Horror
Mission to the Deep
Hazel keeps having the same dream over and over. The events and details of the dream are blurry, but they always end the same way, with her death. Hazel wakes suddenly by the sound of her alarm, she wipes the sleep out of her eyes and stretches overhead. She dresses quickly and rushes downstairs. Lately the days have seemed to melt together, her mom stands over the stove cooking with headphones in her ears.
By James Greasley8 years ago in Horror
The Day I Left Them with Christie
“Oh, shoot!” I whisper-shout as I roll out of bed. “I’m late for work!” I quickly get ready for work and prepare breakfast for my two daughters, Amy and Chloe. The babysitter was supposed to arrive anytime now. As I was to take my first sip of my morning coffee, the doorbell rang. “It must be the new babysitter!” my daughters exclaimed together. The babysitter that we usually have over wasn’t available, for a long time actually, which was kind of strange. When I open up the door, a girl with a big smile and piercing blue eyes is right in front of me.
By Akira Aliberti8 years ago in Horror
Death Is Only the Beginning
I had never felt more alone than I did at that moment. I entered the forest, having the moon as my flashlight, in search of the truth. A cool wet breeze prickled down my spine, the air fogging over the deeper I walked into the woodland. The noises inside this home of many mysterious creatures can truly play with your mind. The rustling of trees, the wind whispering in your ear; a sound that makes your heart beat faster than you would think possible; a low voice that is warning you that death is coming for you. I walked more rapidly to find my destination. But something stopped me in my tracks. The cracking of a tree branch sounded like bones being ripped apart and then chewed upon by something… or someone. I looked around in every direction, and then I saw it. A dark shadow; misshapen in size and frame standing behind an oak tree, so tall seeming endless. Curiosity burned inside my veins. I reached out my hand, trembling in excitement and fear. Just as I was about to touch the deformed figure, it disappeared. I looked all around me and no one was in sight. I am alone once more. Alone as one can be here.
By Erin Perez8 years ago in Horror
Guilty
He killed my daughter. He killed her in cold blood and yet there he stood, free as the day it had happened. He was always in the same spot, never moving, or so it seemed to me, always there, as if taunting me. In the beginning, I tried to avoid him, I really did. I went out of my way, destroyed any connections to him, bloodied my own hands just to get away from him, but he always found me again, or maybe I found him. Sometimes I wasn’t really sure. I then realized that I needed to see him for when I didn’t see him, I would forget about her. When I saw him, he would be standing over her cold corpse. When I saw him, I felt the rage I had felt when I first saw what he had done. I wanted that rage, I needed that rage. How was I a father if I did not feel rage over her death, rage towards the one who killed her? When I did not see him, I forgot about this. I forgot about the rage, and about her. I guess that was my curse, to have those two horrible things connected. To want to forget his face, forget that he existed, but being unable to without forgetting her.
By Bekah Schofield8 years ago in Horror
