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.

Black Sheep
Solemn faces stared as the box was lowered, further and further down into the hole; exactly six feet deep. It was a warm evening for autumn, and a few salty beads had formed on the foreheads of several silent mourners that stood in the churchyard; the air was humid and stale. The vicar breathed a few final words of prayer before dismissing the procession, and retired back inside the grey walls of the church, escaping the eerie silence that had descended. Few milled about before leaving the yard through the rusted iron gate, however two stayed a few moments longer. One held a hand over the hole, and released her grasp on a single red rose, and watched it float down and brush against the rough, splintered lid of the coffin. The other held his flat cap in silent respect, sweat gripping to his wispy, grey hair. The woman turned around to the man, looking into his eyes with an almost vacant expression. He opened his mouth to speak, but she turned and walked towards the flaking metal fence before he could utter a word, her eyes lowered. He looked down the hole once more before the gravediggers would fill it, their eyes fixated on him. The pair held grimacing smiles on their faces, edging closer to the hole, barely holding themselves back; they bared their teeth. With a shudder, the man turned and followed the woman out of the yard, his tweed jacket brushing against the dark rust of the gate.
By Joseph Parkinson8 years ago in Horror
Onism
Onism - n. the awareness of how little of the world you'll experience The boy wore a black turtleneck, and he never heard the end of it from the crow. He always had a lollipop stick in his mouth, and he never heard the end of it from the crow. All he could talk about, that rivaled the crow's rambling, was death. This, the crow never heard the end of.
By Jace H.K.8 years ago in Horror
The Brain’s Way
It’s 9:35 AM on a regular, boring Wednesday. I’m sitting at my desk about to start on my monstrous workload that has accumulated for the last two days, the smell of freshly made coffee burns my nostrils as my laptop boots up to the familiar jingle. My day has now begun. However, unknown to me, it is then that on that boring Wednesday, hat dumb, monotonous, plain-old Wednesday, for no rhyme or reason it happens.
By Ink Equus8 years ago in Horror
Incentive
“Ever hit a deer, Mary?” I asked her, as my claws drew closer to her eyeball. She responded, mumbling through the stitches. I couldn’t help but laugh. The struggling only made her lips bleed, her tears blending with the blood that covered her face. I tore each thread out, one pull at a time, and watched as the blood seeped from her lips. The droplets graced the floor as if each one contained a blessing to the ground beneath her. Once I had pried open her mouth, she tried to scream. But none of them could scream, because I had made it so.
By Eleanor 8 years ago in Horror
Chemistry, Pt. II
Nate and I have been unofficially a thing for about six months now. He has gotten a lot weirder though; distant, cold. He always seems to only come out at night, which I don't entirely mind on account of the majority of my shifts being from 11 PM to 2 AM.
By Elijah Taylor8 years ago in Horror
Dreams of Darkness: Chapter 2
Chapter Two Tabitha was standing in her kitchen, waiting for her dinner to get done in the oven. Taking a bite from the bowl of salad she had in her hand, setting it down; she went to the fridge to grab a Mountain Dew. Staring at the refrigerator door for a second, dazing off. There was artwork she drew in the fourth grade still hanging on the door. It was a drawing of Earth with something hidden in the back, maybe another planet or something. She couldn’t remember drawing it, but for some reason she started thinking about her Astronomy class. The teacher was going on about theories and opinions on there being other worlds with living organisms on them.
By Queen Fae8 years ago in Horror
Forgotten
August 14, 1945 “Everybody line up!” Barked the headmistress of the gloomy orphanage. All the young children scatter, they push each other trying their best to get in line quick. Once everyone was lined up, the cruel headmistress made her way down the line. She eyed the children with her cold blue eyes, she was all business. Headmistress Ketch was never casual, the children always saw her steely grey hair tied into a tight bun, and she always wore a pressed grey dress. The children had a nickname for her, they called her the iron maiden. She obtained that nickname because of her hands, they would feel like a paddle of iron whenever she would spank the children. Though, sometimes the spankings would be a little… too rough.
By Jinx Cipriano8 years ago in Horror
Monster on the Shelf (Pt. 1)
“That's just it, I can write outlines all day, but I can't put down the words for a whole story.” That was the conclusion I came to every night, after hours of working on little more than plot summaries and outlines for stories that I dreaded would never be written. Following this, or sometimes even prior to this, my wife would assure me that I could do it. The fact of the matter was, the closest I had ever come to completing anything like a finished novel had been when writing single segments of a story with people at work, and having them continue with the next segment. That had worked wondrously, so why couldn't I just do that alone?
By Caleb Sherman8 years ago in Horror
A Hero’s Shade
What makes a hero? Good looks, strong abs and perfect teeth? No. What makes a hero is the will to carry on, the courage to never give up. A hero is expected to be the epitome of righteousness. The last bastion of hope when all is lost. They are expected to be pure. To be incorruptible. This is a story of a hero—not a perfect one, but nonetheless a hero.
By Mr EE8 years ago in Horror
Rara Aves
"We have nothing against these good lambs; in fact, we love them. Nothing tastes better than a tender lamb." ~ Friedrich Nietzsche
By r. nuñez8 years ago in Horror
The Boy in the Cul De Sac (Part I)
This story starts in 2009, the year my parents divorced. My dad made the decision to stay in Kentucky while my mom, twin sisters, and I were moving to Georgia to stay with my grandmother. I was actually excited for this move. I got to see my grandma, got to eat endless Korean food, and got to live near the beach. Everything was expected to turn out great, but of course, it didn't.
By Hannah Yun8 years ago in Horror
Dragon Ring
I sat, shaken and breathing heavily as my vision cleared. I waited and then felt the blood tickling my lips. I stared into the darkness, waiting for another blow, but it never came. I blinked a few times, hoping to stop the tears, if only for a moment.
By Mary O’Rourke8 years ago in Horror