Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Horror.
Brussels Vampire Society
Keziah, a magpie in little girl form, races recklessly over the cobblestones of the Flea Market in Les Marolles neighbourhood of Brussels. If the sidewalk has anything remotely interesting, shiny, glittery or fun to offer, it is brought immediately to her attention. Her deep brown eyes seem to contain some kind of sensor, that no metal detector could match. Her parents are used to it now, as her ragtag collection of discarded dolls, pretty marbles, and mismatched barrettes grow.
By Desta Haile6 years ago in Horror
Carmine Red
Eric doubted anything could be done about a private student loan, but the letter in his hand said otherwise. He waited impatiently in the bank lobby on a dead Saturday afternoon. The cubicles were empty; it was just he and the teller behind a counter now. She was finishing up a call regarding his letter.
By Mr. Rothman W6 years ago in Horror
Soho Forever
It was that blooming crushed avocado face-mask! One larger than expected dollop of the exotic fruit dancing its way into my tear duct, and that was it, arse over tit! Looking, I’d imagine, like a drunken peacock in very expensive silk kimono. Nice to be found in something beautiful, even if I was crumpled in a pile at the bottom of the stairs.
By Gabriel Wilding 6 years ago in Horror
The Little Black Book
The surrounding buildings blurred together as the rain slipped off of the foggy subway windows. While the train sped past, I stared out at the gloomy world, my head resting on my arm and a sigh leaving my nose. I had barely gotten any sleep lately, vivid dreams and nightmares leave me exhausted as soon as I wake, leaving small shadows under my eyes. Work was going to be fun today, I thought sarcastically. The subway car air was cold and damp from the rain-soaked passengers and my eyes wandered from face to face. Some seemed content, and others already weary so early in the morning. Mondays.
By Kaylee Anderson6 years ago in Horror
Canary
I don't know why they left her eyes open. My mother claims it’s that so we may never forget her eyes, so we can remember her eyes finally at peace. Looking down at her in this casket she almost feels like she was never really a person. She’s so still and so quiet. I feel like I can barely remember her anymore. I don’t think I can look at her like this any longer. I turn to see my mother sitting in a chair in the corner of the living room staring straight ahead, her eyes just as lost as my grandmother’s was. Her hair seems more unruly than normal, her clothes are wrinkled and her massacre has smudged under her eyes. She's been like that for a while. She slowly watched my grandmother fall deeper and deeper into psychosis as she spent most of her life putting her in and out of different mental institutions trying to find some peace for her. I can see her hands shaking as she tries to contain herself for our family and I so badly wanted to go over and touch her, comfort her somehow, but I can’t. She’ll just give me that same watery smile, tell me she’s fine, give me a sweet moist kiss on my cheek, and become lost once again. I try to spot my father, but not surprisingly he’s not around. He’s most likely chatting up every single person in this house to try to keep the spirits up and the hope alive. I don’t know what hope there is for this family, but he certainly tries his best to keep it.
By Jalyn Nwogu6 years ago in Horror
The Ghost Nina
I remember her fingers the most. Their bony spider dance webbing threads into needles at the window where I first saw her. Dancing, dancing, dancing their spiderly dance. Transparent and terrifying in their pursuit. I would often see her at that window and I would often try to follow her in my mind into the dark dampness of her concrete cage. Did her spider fingers crawl into crevasses and lips at night? Did she sleep soundly? What kind of nightmares and torments and hopes and fears did she harbor? Where did her mind travel to when I was not around to witness it?
By Victoria Chwalek6 years ago in Horror
Little Black Book
Imagine waking up one morning, rolling over in your bed, snoozing your phone alarm, and checking your bank account. Now imagine seeing a deposit for 20,000 dollars in your bank account. I had never leapt out of bed so fast in my life. Already I was thinking of the possibilities. Paying off a few months worth of rent. Catching up on missed bills. Finally getting a new tv to replace the fat cubed one in my living room. Things I had promised my taxes and unemployment towards once it finally came in.
By Andy Manuel6 years ago in Horror
Little Black Book
The Little Black Book... An immersion of darkness hovers in a room, engulfing all except the gold encrusted lettering on a small black book on a table. The room expands to allow the moonlight to trickle its way into the room. The room slowly fades back to lighten the darkness to a mere gray illuminating a grisly scene.
By Joey C Smith6 years ago in Horror
“God’s Work”
Now she was certain she was going to hell. Naomi Parker was in the game and couldn’t get out of it. It started on the cliffs and with a prayer sent to the heavens that was answered. An angel appeared and gave her a deal, simply stating that Naomi only had to do God's work. All she needed was a little money to get her back on her feet. Whatever she did that black book seemed to follow her. With every haunting turn, the pages would take their toll. She didn’t want to play anymore. 20,000 dollars seemed like so much at the time and she was told that she was doing God’s work. Little did she know, accepting equaled her life changing forever.
By Katelynn Baldwin 6 years ago in Horror
How Snowflakes Differ
The window to Cooper’s studio apartment was glossed over with ice as flurries ferociously clawed at the pane’s edges and corners, building a small army of crystalline frost to gather endlessly. The whipped peaks of the clouds dwarfed the Houston skyline is a vast, hysterical ocean of white drenching the buildings with a gleaming blanket of snowfall only to be concealed by the rhythm of the wind whisking layers of the storm as if the entirety of Texas fell beneath a fine sheet of chiffon.
By Christopher Richards6 years ago in Horror
The Book In The Body
Claire Dominus was a prominent teacher in the community with such compassion and poise. I could only imagine how she wound up naked on my table with a tag neatly wrapped around her cold toe. Foul play would most certainly mean danger for the tiny town of Beckington. There could only be hope that she slept peacefully and by natural causes.
By The Darkest Sunrise6 years ago in Horror
Oblivion
Meka Jones is a 22 year old waitress living with her boyfriend in downtown Anchorage, Alaska. Getting off late from her closing shift on a bitter cold Wednesday night, she's forced to take the people mover city bus home after her boyfriend calls her to tell her that their beat up truck is dead and won't start. Unluckily for Meka, she lives on the complete opposite end of town and has a long ride ahead of her. After waiting almost 40 minutes for the final bus to arrive at midnight she finds that she and an older Alaskan Native man -humming happily to himself- are the only riders. 'Good.' She thought to herself, thankful to not have to share the bus with too many people. She sat near the front a few rows ahead of the man and pinched her face mask more securely to the bridge of her nose. She played her music loud through her headphones and looked out the big window next to her. Letting her brown almond-shaped eyes flit over the dark shapes and shadows they passed by. About 5 minutes into the ride she nearly jumped from her seat when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Leaning in the opposite direction of the offending tap, she turned to address the older man who was now sitting right behind her. "Can I help you?" Meka asked in a loud voice, hoping to get the driver's attention in the process. The older man wore glasses and seemed put together for the most part. But Meka new looks could be deceiving. She discretly reached one hand into her puffer jacket pocket feeling for her mace. The older man pointed at his ear and cocked his head awkwardly, gesturing for her to remove a headphone. With her free hand she snatched one out. "Can I help you?" She asked again more firmly this time. Throughout this entire exchange she could tell this man had a faint, absent-minded smile on his face beneath the mask he wore. which Meka found unsettling at this time of night. Especially with him suddenly so close to her. The old man held up a finger motioning for her to wait. Then he reached his other hand into his jacket and appeared to be searching for something. Meka quickly swiveled her head around to the front of the bus and caught the bus driver's eyes in the rear view mirror. He had his eyes on her and looked from her to the road and back to her again. Meka looked back at the older man and she jumped again, momentarily startled. He was holding a little black notebook up so that it was just inches from her nose. It was an old but nice-looking little book. Obsidian in color. He was trying to hand it over to her. "Oh um... no thank you. I don't want your book, sir." Meka said softening her tone just a bit, starting to think the older man struggled with a mental disability as he had not said a single word to her and had no concept of personal space. He nodded in an insistent manner and pushed the book closer to her. Then he spoke. "Blessings upon you." Then he dropped the book in the seat next to her and reached up to pull the cord. 'Ding!' "Stop requested" the bus' built-in automated voice alerted. The old man leaned away from Meka and just stared at her with an eerily knowing look in his eyes. Not quite wise, but as if he was in on something she knew nothing about. The bus lurched forward again. "Um...thanks." Meka deadpanned picking up the little book slowly and holding it in her lap. She now sat at an angle so that she could keep an eye on the man while simultaneously maintaining a greater distance from him. Her back against the window. She heard the booming voice of the bus driver, who so far had been no help at all, "Here you are my man. This is you." They'd come to his stop. The old man stood slowly and gracefully. Staring down at Meka now. "Goodnight." Meka squeaked out. Now realizing how tall he was. He spoke again, applying emphasis and weight to each word individually, "Blessings upon you." The man then turned and exited from the rear door. He all but vanished as soon a he stepped off of the bus and into the frigid, twilight Alaskan air. "Yeah seems he's missing a few screws but he was harmless." The driver laughed. Meka couldn't remember asking for his opinion. She was still feeling anxious about the entire interaction. Meka laughed humorlessly as the bus drove on. Her curiosity began to eat at her. The mysterious little book in her lap burned the corners of her mind threatening to consume her and she caved. Besides, it was her property now after all. She gingerly pried open the cover of the little black book and peeked inside. It was full of names. She flipped through it until she got to where whomever had been writing had left off and her blood went cold as ice. Meka Jones. The last name written down. Right under a Jonathan Kilpek. She shut the book and her mind raced with all sorts of thoughts. 'Did he write all of these names in here?' 'How the hell does he know my name?' 'Why'd he give the book to me?' 'HOW does he know my name?' 'Is this a joke?'. She shoved the book into her messenger bag and figured as soon as she and her boyfriend were able to get their truck jump-started, they'd go to the police and file a report. About half an hour later and Meka found herself trudging through a snowy sidewalk a block away from her house, snatching off her mask. "Almost home" Meka muttered to herself as her teeth chattered. She was pretty sure her bag had become much heavier since she first chucked the book inside, but it was most likely just her imagination. She ended up switching her satchel from shoulder to shoulder a fee times anyways. As she walked, she reached into her bag to take another look at the ominous notebook. Her fingers felt around for it but grazed what felt like paper. Perhaps the book was open and she was touching the inside pages. No. The texture was off. And there weren't this many pages in the book. She came to a complete stop beneath a streetlight and checked her surroundings before dropping the bag to the powdered street and swatting next to it. "Jesus you're heavy!" she exclaimed. She used both hands to pry the opening wider and gasped at what she found inside. Bundles of money. Meka picked one up to observe it closer. One hundred dollar bills. She rooted through the bag and there was no trace of the little black notebook, but her bag was full of bundles of rubber banded hundreds. She stayed squatted in that position for 10 long seconds before snapping into action. Her mind began racing with all she and her boyfriend, Garrett, could do with money like this. She quickly zipped her bag shut. Standing, she pulled it over her head so it hung across her body. She then took off running the rest of the way home. Perhaps she shouldn't have accepted the book from the man. perhaps she should've called a cab and avoided the bus altogether. Maybe she should've asked the bus driver to drop her off close to the police station so that she could get rid of the damn thing from the start. Or maybe she should've just listened to that little voice in the back of her mind that tried to warn her as her apartment complex finally came into view that night.***
By Arayah Cook6 years ago in Horror
