Most recently published stories in Horror.
10 Netflix Shows to Binge on Halloween (2017)
Ten shows you will not be able to stop watching this Halloween. WARNING: May cause you to double-check your closets and under the bed ;)
Followed Me Home
When I was younger, I used to love scaring the shit out of my friends when it came to the paranormal. I would tell ghost stories and sneak up behind them to scare them. And as we got older we would go walk through cemeteries at night and try to be amateur ghost hunters. There was one night and the weeks following it that I will never forget.
Most Haunted Places in America
American history has seen a lot of gruesome moments in its time — even though our country has only been around since the 18th century. We've had wars, mass killings, and many other instances where Americans embodied the worst of humanity.
She Saved Ryan Denning
It was 2 AM and the moonlight poured through the window pane, highlighting the pale sleeping face of Ryan Denning. He breathed slow, his bony diaphragm moving to the beat of his steady pulse. His bedroom door creaked open at a snail's pace. Ryan was submerged in the darkness of his slumber for he could not dream.
Movie Review: 'Happy Death Day'
Happy Death Day is one of the best surprises of 2017. This seemingly throwaway teen slasher flick turns out to be a sneaky black comedy version of Groundhog Day if Bill Murray were being murdered every day. The film was directed by Christopher Lambert whose résumé is riddled with mediocre screenplays for the Paranormal Activity franchise and whose first feature was the idiotic Scouts Guide to the Zombie Apocalypse, which leaves me to wonder where he’s been hiding this version of his work?
Mystery in the Meadow
Late afternoon bells rang in the air, stinging the summer heat and combatting the screams of children, running along streets and paths, dancing away from the school building and all the way to their homes. Summer vacation always excited the children in such a way, causing a fuss of car horns angrily screaming as the children skipped through the streets with little care; school was out, summer began, little else mattered in their little world. Little else existed besides fun and pools, no homework and laziness for a whole few months before the torturous routine begun again.
Elf on The Shelf Pt. 2
With one box packed, I exited the room and went to the old kitchen with creaking floorboards and broken cupboards. “Dad!” I shouted when I saw him unpacking his candles. I had always thought that Poppa was the one who fancied them.
She turned her head to the left and peered behind. It was dark. She couldn't see him but she knew he was there. Her face forward, she began to walk a bit quicker. Her steps light on the cobblestones. She wanted to run. Maybe even scream. She knew there was no way she could outrun him, and to scream seemed pathetic at best, seeing as she was far from town and not a house to be seen. Oh why had she taken this path home? There were other safer routes, well-lit ways home, but she was sometimes at the worse of times foolish.
Rant Edition One
Ghosts. Every year, as All Hallows Eve approaches, it's the same story. "Once in a Haunted Castle..." or "At summer camp, there was a...". Why can't people be more inventive than that? What about the ghost in the middle of the street, getting run over again and again. Or the ghost that lived in the attic but the most you know of it is that every so often, there's crying?
Message in a Bottle
L’Ollonais was born a whisper that thundered up to a roar. At first a name, a rumour, a blemish in the gutters of Port Royal. Tales told by those returning from isles as near as Tortuga and further afield. Men who recalled witnessing crews of Spaniards jumping from their sloops to certain death to escape his merciless clasp. “The Flail of the Spaniards” was the whisper as that privateer gained a legacy.
Who Is Peter England? (Pt. 2)
The day I met him felt no different than any other. My parents had already left for their business trip, so I made myself breakfast, got myself ready and left for school. I walked my normal route, all 17 minutes of it, lined up for class, it was all routine. Yet still, this was my most fateful day to come. The day I met my maker. He was this little blond kid, with blue eyes and perfectly groomed, straight hair. With his slight build, very non-threatening, he had this gentle look about him, dangerously disarming. He had a way with words, always so polite and so very charming. You could say he was that kid that adults loved. Teachers adored him, as did the students. He always smelled.... what was it again? Like maple oatmeal. Not to say that that's why people liked him, but it added to his image.
Who Is Peter England?
Hello. I won't tell you my name, because that is of little importance. It gives no… substance to this story. I will, however, tell you how I became what I am today. I’ll tell you just how it happened.