Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Horror.
The Path
The Path The ground slides underneath my feet. It’s hard to get any traction on the muddy trail so I run slower than usual, knowing I won’t make my goal time. But hey - I’ll sacrifice a good lap time to avoid a sprained ankle any day.
Laura MelvinPublished 3 years ago in HorrorThe Old Man and the Owl
Drowning the regret of the past week with mead, a ragged young man kept to himself, observing both the cramped building around him and the band of vagabonds he now surrounded himself with. Deserting was only the second most foolish choice he’d made this week. The young man’s face was stained with mud, blonde hair shaggy. Despite this, he was accoutred well with fresh armor, the coat of arms on his breastplate crossed out. Looking at the people around him, he had to face one simple fact--these were not good men. Murderers, thieves, and deserters like him had banded together in this remote area, doing anything they had to to survive. Deserting was one thing, but this? How could he justif--
Ryan McMathPublished 3 years ago in HorrorThe Owl and the Sexton
In an old farm town in the New England countryside so long ago that it doesn’t much matter whether the story is true or not, there resided a sexton by the name of Otis McPherson. As many great men have noted, sextons, although constantly surrounded by images of mortality and morseness, are rarely melancholy fellows themselves. Otis was no exception to this general trend and indeed he was as merry a gentleman as they come. One damp evening out behind the old church, Otis took to warming himself in his usual manner, with shanties and scotch. He was a portly man, with a red pockmarked nose and a balding head of wheat brown hair. As he walked his considerable gut bounced over a taught belt that kept up a tight pair of breeches while his red hands swung heavily at his hips.
Zak BuczinskyPublished 3 years ago in HorrorDark Dreams
“Dormant power, dark dreams, fragments long forgotten... return, return, return to me, child…” “Ugg, huh, hooo,” Black eyes piercing me seemed to be burned into my brain. Awaking in cold sweats and confusion just before my alarm, to the real nightmare I return.
Theodore ShawPublished 3 years ago in HorrorAm I Being Followed? 1.6
**Disclaimer** Do not distribute or post elsewhere without my approval This series may contain: Disassociation, Blood, Gore, Violence, Seeing things, Hearing voices, Dangerous situations, possible crude language and mental breakdowns.
PrettyQuillPublished 3 years ago in HorrorThe Creature
That creature – that detestable beast – that barn owl - now haunts me even in my slumber, my last bastion of sanity. No longer content at the peripherals of my vision, a shadow on my days, it invades a once-peaceful time, my little death between the grindings of life. What was once a bookmark, a pause of reality, has become one unceasing extension of horror.
Counting Peaches
Being a park ranger means dealing with a lot of monotony, but I don’t mind it one bit. In fact I prefer it. The secluded life in the woods far away from all the noise, hustle, and bustle of the city is worth it. For a lot of people it’s the isolation that keeps them away from the job, but I’ve found that it helps to have a tight schedule, something to focus on. On my first day I didn’t think I’d last a week, but after a few days I settled into a routine. It’s the only thing that keeps me sane.
Gabe ShudakPublished 3 years ago in HorrorWhite Owl
Sitting around telling scary stories, Dan, Lexie, Stan, Susan, and Joseph listen as Lori tells her story! " The Legend states that anyone that sees a white owl fly in the moonlight anytime there is a full moon, will surely die! The last time we had a full moon, there were three people that actually took a picture of it, they posted it and shortly after it was posted, they were all found dead! So I suggest that you do not look at the moon tomorrow night because if you do and and that white owl flies in the moonlightwhile you are watching, your fate will be sealed!"
More Than WordsPublished 3 years ago in HorrorOwl & Munchkin
The figurines came alive. In a flash, they snuffed out the light of the man and the woman. Then the mermaids, arrogant in their deed and their bellies full of the newly feasted souls, slithered to their place on the mantle. They returned to their glamorous ceramic state, gleeful in the terror they had caused before snatching the life forces of the feeble humans.
Kiera M. BurrellPublished 3 years ago in HorrorHer Eyes
Her eyes are dark. When I look at them I think of violence. Violent men. The sort with deep, sunken eyes, shrouded in shadows. Little black pearls that when gazed upon reveal nothing of a soul within. A sort of stark, loveless void where good things go to die.
Mr. Bradshaw
Mr. Bradshaw is a rather odd man. He is short and has long arms, and his teeth are all either missing or rotting. His slimy yellow eyes are always bloodshot—glossy with some oozing liquid that forms a film across his irises and pupils. His back is hunched, and his body is oddly shaped and disproportionate.
Austin PardenPublished 3 years ago in HorrorWho?
“Good to go?” I ask as my wife straps our two-year-old daughter into the car seat. “Um, yes,” she says reluctantly from the back seat as I shift our faded blue Ford Taurus into reverse. The resentful arguments have become more frequent over the last two months, causing awkward tension every time we attempt to engage in family events. It’s Sunday, which means another trip to Elliston Farm for a family dinner. “Can you please slow down? I’m going to get car sick,” she laments from the back seat. “You’re more than welcome to sit in the front seat, you know, like most adults,” I snapped back. An awkward silence fills the void in the car, with the exception of Baby Shark playing on repeat. The smell of coming rain drifts in through the air vents as the combination of twilight and clouds darken the sky. The swaying canopy of trees on the winding country road makes it seem even darker. A loud THUMP comes from the front of the car, and I think maybe a branch or something fell from a tree because of the wind. “What the hell was that?” my wife’s voice clearly annoyed as I slam on the brakes. I bite my tongue as I open the door and get out to assess the situation. A high pitched screech pierces the air, and a sharp pain behind my eyes force me to wince. Then I see what looks like an injured animal just in front of the car. “Dammit,” I say aloud to myself as I see it moving. “An owl, I hit a stupid owl!” I yell back to the car, assuming someone is listening. My wife steps out of the car and starts toward me, the ever familiar look of disdain on her face yet again. “Well, now I guess we need to take it to a vet. We can’t just leave it here.” Her eyes like daggers as she cuts them at me. I grab an old musty blanket that just so happened to be in the trunk and wrap the owl up in it and put it in the front seat where no one sits anyway. “Call your mother and tell her we won’t be there,” I say with an odd sense of relief.
A.E. FieldsPublished 3 years ago in Horror