Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Horror.
Roxy
We use to be shadows on walls. Scribblings of black ash from the camp fire. The things you see out of the corner of your eye but can never get a fix on. The things your pet stares at with curiosity and fear. We've been around for eons though. While science will have you believe its not supernatural, that there is some type of explanation for it all, I can honestly tell you that there is not. . . at least not all of it.
Marcy MaciasPublished 3 years ago in HorrorDead Man's Flip Flops
Following on from A New Home For a moment, I was asleep. The next, I was awake. And then there was this horrible feeling: certainty draining out of me, like dirty bathwater.
L.C. SchäferPublished 3 years ago in Horror- Top Story - February 2021
The Ledger
It’s midnight again at the Black’n Blue. The novelty of the first few beers was passing. Neon from behind the bar sprays over me, my dilated pupils drink in the colorful, dead light. The headache behind my eyes has already started.
A Manifested Memory
Eleanor wasn’t sure what force it was that pulled her into that little east coast antique store that day. She had walked by it daily since she began working her job at the tiny bakery on the corner of a busy-for-a-coastal-town street and Princetown road. The windows appeared fogged up with the thick layers of dirt and debris collected as years worth of old chests stuffed with newspaper from the 60s, and long gone Grandmother’s teapots made their way in and out. The door stood not much taller than Eleanor herself, its old oak frame providing an entryway that anyone larger than 6’ would have to duck. At first, it was not Eleanor’s intention to go in, and when the echo in her mind insisted she stopped and did so, she even considered resisting it. The weather was cold and unwelcoming, and after an 8-hour shift in the back kitchen of the bakery, Eleanor indeed had intended to go directly home. However, some voices demanded to be heard— even if it was the echo that she so often ignored.
Kailey McLennanPublished 3 years ago in HorrorRoad Trip Playlist
The hands against the windows blocked the last of the day’s grey light as it tried to trickle in. The bodies writhed on the bonnet and the boot. Bloodied hands thumped against the barriers — their only source of protection. Vacant eyes and gore-slaked mouths squeezed up against the glass. If they hadn’t been dead, it might have been funny. Like kids on the school bus pull faces at neighbouring cars.
Joshua G. J. InsolePublished 3 years ago in HorrorLatterday
Something must be done with February and I'll tell you why. What I'm going to tell you may seem just a little out of the ordinary. Okay, a lot out of the ordinary. But I swear to you, it happened. I am not crazy, nor do I do partake in any sort of drug or imbibe in alcohol, which I'm not particularly fond of. I don't know how it happened, but I assure you, it did.
Riss RykerPublished 3 years ago in HorrorMermaid
Mermaid I have been waiting almost a month for this shower curtain to arrive. My fiancé had suggested that I redecorate my bathroom to my liking. Now this may seem like a small thing but in this relationship that was a gift. My fiancé loved things to look a certain way, everything had to go together. On the other hand I was a bit more random and quirky with the things that I liked. As soon as he mentioned it to me I knew what I wanted to do my theme was going to be "The Ocean". I had a fascination with mermaids for as long as I could remember I never outgrew it. As a child I would pretend to be diving in the ocean with a beautiful blue tail and long lustrous hair flowing in the oceans currents. It felt so real to me back then. As I got older I would watch any movies, TV shows or documentaries that had anything to do with mermaids. I truly believed they existed and there was no way for it to be disproved.
Renae WimesPublished 3 years ago in HorrorA Taxidermy Tale: Shambala
A Taxidermy Tale: Shambala By Emma Tynan Off of the main road and down the winding lane is a beautiful little cottage called “Shambala” in Tibetan Buddhism its meaning is “Magical Kingdom” Past the cottage is a boat house with a recreation room above it and further down from that on the beautiful and secluded Sharbot Lake is a small workshop. This is truly a peaceful place, a place filled with love.
Emma-JaynePublished 3 years ago in HorrorMIDNIGHT TRAIN
THE MIDNIGHT TRAIN. Going from somewhere, going nowhere. Hello pleased to meet you. My name is Hans, yes Hans, you know, that nondescript figure in a grey suit that occupies your mind for a full nano second on the subway or on the street corner as we all bustle and crowd our way to earn a salary. I guess in Japan I would be called a salaryman which is what they call the millions of grey clad worker ants who toil in the huge breathing body of Tokyo..Anyway once again my name is Hans, an extremely ordinary German man with narrow features and if you look carefully a shade of a haunting in my spectacled eyes.. I have a sister called Greta, or at least I had a sister called Greta before she was whisked off to Monaco by a Armani suit with a man inside driving a Ferrari. She now lives amongst the Casinos and palaces and no doubt thinks of me from time to time whilst rattling her jewellery. Yet every year on a certain day she phones me. A special phone call, not a catch up phone call, not a gossip phone call, and definently not a boring gotta phone brother as I haven’t spoken or thought about him for a while phone call. No it is a comfort call, a call that brings back a night many years ago, a night that wraps itself around us still and once again we are scared little kids. Kids who, one dark moonlit night were confronted by something ancient, active and indescribably evil. So after so many years of my brain mind pumping a dumbbell of horror it is time to put it down, get rid of it and walk away from it. It will always be there on the floor but no longer picked up and exercised as a weight that brings no gain, only slow trickling black rain.
Gary PressmanPublished 3 years ago in HorrorThe Mask and The Effigy
Shadow Mask & The Effigy My arms were itching and stinging so bad that I wanted to rip the skin off and just scrub it. Nothing was helping to relieve the pain or the itch. I called my grandmother for one of her home remedies. She told me to mix sea salt with lukewarm water saturate a rag with it and place it on the irritated area. I still couldn't remember how I had even gotten these scratches I felt like I had just woken up one day and they were there 5 on each arm and pretty deep. Anyhow I did as my grandmother instructed and the pain instantly went away I used ace bandages to secure the makeshift compress. Two days had passed since I had lapsed into some sort of sleepwalking spell but I hadn't had any occurrences since then so I was starting to feel comfortable with myself again. In this particular moment I decided to chill out. I grabbed my goodie box and headed downstairs to the living room. My goody box consisted of a grinder, a mini bong, a lighter and a few buds of Mary Jane. I put the box on the table and headed into the kitchen to make myself a drink. I love mixing wines and rums and vodkas with various juices and fruit I swore I was a bartender. Anyway I made my drink, sat down, prepared my bud and in about 30 minutes I was feeling very good about life and everything that comes with it.
Renae WimesPublished 3 years ago in HorrorConcrete Jungle - Lions & Spiders & Bears
Billy. Everything was always about Billy. I sit in my room, listening to Ma make airplane noises as she feeds Billy. I feel annoyed. I never got airplane noises. There isn't a spoon swirling about in front of my face. 'Shut up and eat your damn dinner, Bobby!' That's what I get. I'm firstborn, yet they name Billy after Pa? Who'd wanna be named after that prick, anyway?
M.O. LeClairPublished 3 years ago in HorrorConcrete Jungle - The Scorpion Says
He will come for me if I speak. I just know it. But Nylah, she's so lovely. She says she's on my side and that she'll help me with anything. I want to believe her so badly, but I can't. I can't. He will kill her too. Then that will be my fault for bringing her in. If I speak to her, I'll be putting her in danger, also. My face is getting red. I can feel it. I start seeing little white stars flash before my eyes. I need to relax and think. What should I do? No one believes me that he is still alive. I know he is. I've seen him late at night, and he watches me. He sees everything, and he'll see me talk. He's been here, and he already threatened me. He tried to kill me.
M.O. LeClairPublished 3 years ago in Horror