Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Horror.
Reward
I sat in my car in front of the old abandoned farm house at the end of the street. The house sat vacant as long as I had lived in this neighborhood, which was going on 15 years now. The house had been abandoned by its owner and left to the elements. Its white paint chipped away and large windows boarded up, only a glimmer of the beauty it once held. A chill ran down my spine thinking about what was happening inside the house now. My eyes scanned the area, searching for any sign of life.
By Jaime Niedzwiecki 6 years ago in Horror
game of death
Game of death “I wish something interesting would happen,” said Alison to Jimmy as they were making their way home. “Sorry, all the crazy shit that’s been going on in the news, not interesting enough for you? Random buildings exploding and people claiming to see monsters,” answered Jimmy with coy.
By Hyacinth Babela6 years ago in Horror
Game of death
“I wish something interesting would happen,” said Alison to Jimmy as they were making their way home. “Sorry, all the crazy shit that’s been going on in the news, not interesting enough for you? Random buildings exploding and people claiming to see monsters,” answered Jimmy with coy.
By Hyacinth Babela6 years ago in Horror
When Beggars Ride
‘For the third time this week,’ hissed the lone man into his palms. He was drifting along the silent pavement, beneath the tender streetlamps in dungarees so stained with sweat and muted colours wholly betraying the fact that once they had been new and white.
By Fabian de Kerckhove6 years ago in Horror
The Recovery
As he finishes removing his gear, drying off, and taking in his hand the hot cup of coffee, he walks across towards the dimly lit tent to begin what he does after every dive: detailing every aspect that he could remember. It is late into the night, the cool winds blowing in from the east, the insects of the air making their songs, and the intersperse voices of medical professionals, divers, and news reporters chatting of the events that just took place. His thoughts are occupied with questions like "what just happened?” and "did I suffer the worst gas narcosis of my life?" He needs to know. The only way for him to do this is to put it into words that he can see, feel, and to study each sentence so that he does not miss any detail. For him, talking it out helps little, words in the air some would say, and all they do is hang there to be blown away by the wind. So, he leaves the small crowd of people to debrief in solitude. He enters the tent that is propped up close to the water’s edge. It is a large, shaded area with a few picnic tables under it mostly filled with gear of all kinds such as camera’s, scuba equipment, food, and coffee. Still damp, cold, and mind boggy with thoughts racing, he grabs his notebook out of his black messenger bag. It is a small leather-bound black book that feels soft in his hands, sturdy, and contained within its pages are his experiences throughout his diving career. Yet this dive was unlike any he had experienced before.
By Jonathan Klarich6 years ago in Horror
A Ribbon of Time
Think of the timeline like a piece of ribbon. Like the one a little girl ties into her braids in August, or maybe the large bow that keeps the Christmas present together. It’s flexible, it can twist and fold, but it still keeps a distinct shape. One twist and maybe someone likes tea more than coffee, fold the ribbon and then a war ended three months after it did originally, pull a thread and someone never even existed. Nevertheless time moves on, unforgiving yet dependable. But cut the ribbon, and everything changes. The future is no longer supported, everything after the cut is lost, crumbled, erased. Hopefully the ribbon can reweave itself, but still the injury never heals right; a scar, an ache that lingers, it just doesn’t work the same anymore. But then again, maybe that was the plan all along.
By Marissa Randall6 years ago in Horror
The Little Black Book
She never even knew. Suspected, especially when a group of well-dressed professionals would show up at the places where she had worked and saw them conversing with the manager. Their private meetings she found suspicious. But, much like the gnawing feeling that something just wasn’t right would pulse throughout her body, at times everywhere she went, she would just brush it off. She would tell herself to stop worrying, that she was just on edge, paranoid. If she only knew, maybe her life would’ve been much different. She never knew though, how could she? Her gut knew, it was screaming at her all along. But she tried to quiet it. She didn’t know how to listen.
By Crystal R. Hartman6 years ago in Horror
