Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Horror.
App-Arition: S1-E3- Catfished
Written below is the script read for the radio play: NARRATOR The dating pool can be kinda scary; especially when your dates are tied to shallow opinions, or when you're constantly hit by wave after wave of questionable profiles that hook you in, until you find out that you've been chasing waterfalls.
By Rand Einfeldt5 years ago in Horror
Doomsday Diary
There I sat in the dirt-covered in bruises from our last skirmish with a rebel faction and among the foes was an infamous serial killer who went by "The Crimson Reaper" fittingly as he seemed to be a monster walking what remained of the earth today though he was more insane than he was ominous. His actions reflected that as well which kept us shaking in our boots. His supporters protected him knowing it would only make them and their militia leader more known and feared. Our captain Darius was unimpressed and moved swiftly through town to town sweeping resisting forces and outlaws to try to find him after he found his wife and child maimed nearly to death as if he were playing with them just for them to die in his arms after the Reaper escaped. He hardly spoke to us after that day which was really no shock to anyone after seeing what happened to his family. His story was one that I could resonate with after losing all my loved ones in the battles over the past 10 years since reality was intact.
By Drake Matthews5 years ago in Horror
The Demon's Escape
Beneath the palace, away from the eyes and minds of the royal family, a demon prince rested on the cold, damp stone floor of the dungeon’s hidden chamber. Under the cells of the other prisoners kept for treason, malfeasance, and general discourse of the city’s faux tranquility. Decades spent toying with the minds of the ancestral blood that held him rooted to the floor of this place had begun to pay off. The execution of the lovebird’s draconic mate was merely a catalyst. Now the reaction had started to climb to the tipping point. “My Prince…it is done.” A voice that was unheard by the lonely guard, Aldwin, crept from the depths of Seere’s mind. The demon grinned and opened his eyes slowly to take in the darkness of his cell. A subtle glow stretching beyond his irises to cover his mismatched sclera. The demon answered aloud, as he was prone to do with all voices in his head. “…Deetra..my favorite arcane horror…I knew I could rely on you.” Seere took in a deep breath. The witch beyond the castle walls had completed her ritual with Damien in tow to help provide the rarer ingredients. Angel feathers, a spectre's vessel, and a small, heart shaped locket containing the hair of a Gifted maiden. It was only a matter of seconds before the results of her magic became apparent. Seere sat up slowly and chuckled to himself quietly as the chains that bound his wrists together rattled throughout the long, dank corridor. “What now? Find another poor girl to torture?” Aldwin spoke up from his lonely chair set a few meters away from the edge of the enchanted iron bars that held the longest sitting prisoner in Mirim. Seere stood and faced the man while stretching his arms behind his head. “The inverse…actually…a young girl contacted me this time...with some exciting news.” The guard lifted his head and looked towards the solitary confinement with a peaked curiosity. Exciting news for Seere could not bode well for anybody in this kingdom. “Okay…I’m curious. What news is that?” The red-headed creature smiled wide, exposing his second layer of teeth, and put his hands behind his head. The metal of the chains rested against the back of his neck as his hands hung limp from the sides of his face due to the shortness of the shackles.
By Trey A Fitzpatrick5 years ago in Horror
Summer Hiding Spaces
Sometimes I wear it like a necklace like a regular person. But today I alternate between putting in the left side pocket on my shorts or tie the chain on my left hand. I used to wear one of those fitness watches but then I started running – not the fitness kind but the running away from something kind. And during one of those emergency runs I lost it. I always lose it and run back to get it but not this time.
By Paolo Kagaoan5 years ago in Horror
Gorp
Gorp was hungry. He hoped the lady would come back and bring him more food. Gorp’s head felt fuzzy, and he had trouble remembering. He remembered he liked the lady. She would bring him food and show him photos of the old Gorp. Gorp liked that. “Gooooorp!” Gorp moaned involuntarily, and a large amount of drool rolled down the side of his mouth and onto his stained and dirty shirt. Gorp shuffled slowly round the basement. Gorp could smell dried blood on his shirt, and it always made him hungry. He began to chew a little on his sleeve. Gorp liked to chew things. That was how he had gotten free of his rope. Foooood… Hungry! Gorp felt an uncontrollable hunger these days. Old Gorp was not like that. The lady had shown him her shiny thing, her “heart shaped locket”. Old Gorp was there. He did not look hungry like new Gorp. “Gooorp” Gorp moaned again (he did that a lot) and shuffled back and forth in his basement. Gorp didn’t like the basement. It was dark and there were lots of things for Gorp to bump into. And worst of all. There was no food. Gorp wished the lady would come back.
By Lawrence Alabaster5 years ago in Horror
Living Dolls
On an old broken down street that was seldom used sat a derelict house occupied by a widowed mother and her children. Her husband had died at a young age of a heart attack leaving her in dire straits to raise the kids, Matt and Veronica. Matt was a rough and rambunctious little kid that reminded his mother, Stacie, of their father. Stacie had no feelings for their father, for he had been abusive for their entire marriage. When he had died of his heart attack, she viewed it as divine intervention. God had smited him down from the high heavens for ever laying a hand on his loving creation. She carried a bit of resentment towards Matt for being so similar to his father, but she adored Veronica. Veronica was perfect in her eyes. So loving, so cute with her curly brown hair and striking green eyes.
By Nick Cavuoti5 years ago in Horror
The Network
One morning, a man awoke, suddenly unprepared to execute a crowd. Thought and emotion writhed within his head as his hands pulled at previously limp fabric until it contorted and settled against his scarred tan skin. At a rational level, he knew what should occur. First, resistors, disbelievers, and other assorted Luddites would make some sort of last stand: valiant in theory, but pathetic in practice. Next, the survivors would be herded into a pen; he would recite a speech he had given dozens of times and would give the Subversives one last chance to be saved and Plug themselves Into the Network. A few would always abandon their principles when faced with death. But the fervency of most Subversives had confused and impressed him: they were so determined to hold on to anachronistic ways of being that they would willingly, even proudly, sacrifice themselves in a futile stand against the March of Progress. Didn’t they know how selfish they were being? Every single Subversive had been amply informed of the mechanics of the Network and every one of them had made a choice to stay on the wrong side of the End War and thus History. Just as economies required new investment to keep people employed, the Network could not sustain itself absent further participation. It was truly humanity’s ethical obligation to keep the Network alive until the world’s top scientists could discover new populations from which to extract more Thought. Without sufficient Thought power, the Network would collapse, ending the lives of everyone linked into it.
By Darl Bundren5 years ago in Horror
My Last Breath
My Last Breath I arrived home around 2 am. I was still a little buzzed from margaritas, and a few hits off a blunt. I had been at a gathering at my friend Coleba’s house. As the midnight hour approached, we began telling ghost stories. I had sat back against a pile of oversized pillows, and let the mood wash over me. I loved a good ghost story! My friend Jess was recounting a story from when he was a kid. His voice was low, and began swaying through the story like a brewing storm. The room was quiet as he spoke, but I could almost hear every bump in the night, malicious whisper, and distant scratches on the window as he continued. My heart was pounding by the time he let out a loud frightening moan, and yelled “Boo”! We all jumped, startled by the sudden break from quiet ghostly anticipation. I laughed along with the others, but I was a little disappointed that there was no ghostly ending, no evil apparition that haunted his memory still.
By Robin Edwards5 years ago in Horror
The Haunted world
Through her wet nose she inhales the cold air, freezing the lungs and throat trying not to dry cough in the night time chill. The edges of her ears are freezing just as much as the tips of her fingers that are hanging out of her fingerless gloves, clutching her locket. Hannah lays curled up, hidden under a large cloak that is sprawled out in the middle of a field.
By Jacob Bray5 years ago in Horror
Keeping Me From Getting to You
On any given day, if you look back exactly one year, you’ll most likely go through a range of emotions all at once. One of these will no doubt be that of surprise at how much has changed. On the night of April 13th, Eli felt this more strongly than ever before as his mind drifted back. He couldn’t know for certain what he was doing a year ago that day, but he could guess that it was absolutely nothing.
By Nik Cabezas5 years ago in Horror
