Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Horror.
The Nocturne Chamber
I entered the bar late, late enough that the crowds had thinned out and only the stragglers remained. The speakers were droning some barely intelligible music, which was just loud enough to drown out the murmurs of the patrons there. Taking a seat at the bar next to a grizzled old man nursing a drink, I ordered a shot of whiskey and gulped it down, surveying the bar as my eyes watered from the sting. There were two other groups of people, two men at a table in the corner, and a man and woman in a booth on the side. Then there was the man next to me. He was the man I had come for, though he did not know it. I ordered another drink, and ordered another round for the man as well. He looked at me with surprise, and I raised my shot in a toast.
By Samuel Canerday7 years ago in Horror
The Ducks of Sharun
There was something weird about the ducks by Sharun pond. They were quiet and stared a lot. But, the area was beautiful and secluded, so I grabbed a loaf of bread and my notebook and headed down there. The sky was clear and the sun shining when I pulled up, and there wasn’t a single other person in sight. I preferred it that way. No awkward eye contact, or worse, people trying to talk to me. Just me and the birds and the clear water of the pond.
By A. Renée Bowling7 years ago in Horror
The White Lady: An International Phenomenon
You know what one of my favorite stories from the Philippines was? The story of the White Lady. As a kid, I was told the story by my father who said he encountered her on the drive back to our farm in Batangas. As I grew older, I learned that he wasn't the only one. A lot of people from all over the Philippines claim to have seen the White Lady. The stories of who she is and how she came to be vary slightly, as do the accounts of her sightings. The story from my father absolutely chilled me as a child and I wanted to share it.
By Jay Vergara7 years ago in Horror
Timber Witch
It was a quarter after one, and I was still stuck in the library. A ten page paper on the fall of the Roman Empire due tomorrow morning constantly loomed over my thoughts like a storm cloud. I was beyond tired, and the back to back Dunkin Donuts lattes were barely keeping me awake. I decided to walk around to try and get my blood moving. I aimlessly walked through the endless aisles of books until I made it to the religion section. That’s when I began to hear the voice, the quiet but welcoming voice. “Come see me” said the voice, wispy and soft. I followed the voice to the end of the aisle, until I found the source. Stuffed between the Bhagavad Gita and the Upanishads was a book called Timber Witch and Other Stories. The book was very old, with brown pages and a cracked spine. The author didn’t give their name, only calling themselves The Salted Muse. I opened the book and began to read the first story, The Tale of the Timber Witch.
By Julian Hayden7 years ago in Horror
Reed Alexander's Review of "Rubber (2010)"
SPOILERS!!! THIS cinematic masterpiece is a meta introspective view on our sullen lives as the audience whom craves a release from our daily routine. A primordial beckoning, if you will, towards a greater purpose through the art we wish to consume. “Rubber” is nothing less than a true reflection of our dull lives from which we long to break free.
By Reed Alexander7 years ago in Horror
Merging Terror
And so it starts. As soon as my heavy head hits my silky silver pillow case, my brain descends into darkness, and I am transported; though not in the conventional way. It's like I'm sinking, falling, through floors, and concrete and dirt, so much pressure forced on my body. Then I land, expecting to be in pain, expecting for it all to end, but instead I feel familiarity.
By Elise Ruby7 years ago in Horror
The Sea Was Alive
The air was cool and crisp as a figure made their way through the park. In the near distance, the sound of the tides crashing against the rocks nearly drowned out the sound of autumn leaves crunching beneath their feet. Each step crushed the dried foliage and rustled loose pieces around their tennis shoes. On the breeze the smell of the sea was potent, as if taking in a very nose full of the water itself. It had become dark by now, the world engulfed in the blanket of the night sky. Above, stars twinkled and danced. Beautiful. That was what Dean Carver thought as he came to a stop near the edge of the treeline. Beyond the firs that retained their needles, he could hear the sound of footsteps. Odd… Others tended to avoid the park at night. That was why he'd chosen to jog in the dark in the first place. At first the steps sounded slow and hesitant… They weren't jogging, but walking. No… Not walking. He realized that they were stumbling and falling over themselves like a newborn deer. Concern fell over him and he took a step toward the treeline.
By Zephyr Wolff7 years ago in Horror
Grandma Fisher's Oddities
What I'm about to tell you may sound crazy to you, but it was normal to me. The way Grandma Fisher ran the house was just the way the world worked, I had no reason to question it. Perhaps in your travels through this great nation you chanced upon a little roadside attraction called Grandma Fisher's Oddities. It's a little novelty shop along a lonely dusty road the only thing to see for miles, well except for the farmhouse and the barn and a little heat controlled building that housed my Grandma Fishers wax museum. It was her pride and joy.
By Michael J Pennington7 years ago in Horror
The Room at the End of the Hall
Not to far away from me, off the side of a busy road, there has always been a building that stuck out in comparison to all of the others. Surrounded by contemporary buildings is a single house-like structure made of stone. It looks like something out of an old movie or a painting. When I was a small child, I was always curious about this building, but the sign outside of it changed from time to time, and, because I wasn’t able to read and I never wanted to distract my parents from paying attention to the road in front of them, I never asked.
By Rebecca Weiner7 years ago in Horror
Haunted on Ricker Hill
There was a brief moment in my childhood before I blossomed into adolescence when I was terrified to live in my house. And not just because my evil step-monster of a mother lived there, but because there was something else there. I could feel it…hell, my stepmother had, at one point, confirmed that she too could feel something in that house.
By Alyssa Horn7 years ago in Horror
Rotted Flesh
Picture this: A world filled with dead and dying things. People, plants, everything. But I am not dead nor will I ever be. I often wonder what it would be like to be one of them — to taste human flesh, to sink my teeth into someone's trembling body. If I were to become one of these... What are we calling them, zombies? If I were to become one of these "zombies" I'd be forced to walk within the law that nothing really matters and nothing ever did. I'd be reduced to eating my own friends and family. I don't want to live like that, you know? Well, because that's not really living, I'd be dead. The fact of the matter is I'm not going to die. People count on me everyday to provide and protect. They watch my every move to ensure that their lives aren't in danger. With a whole group of people watching out for me like that, it is impossible for someone like me to die.
By Alisha Sherron7 years ago in Horror