Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Horror.
The Order of the Crimson Collar
I never bought into the old adage that everything happens for a reason or that things are meant to be or not meant to be. I’ve always thought that was conciliatory verbiage peddled to those who needed some form of validation or comfort to atone for their mistakes or misfortunes.
By Michael Peregolise6 years ago in Horror
The Take Back
According to the estate sale’s brochure, the now-deceased Susan Delorme had built the house in 1973, inspired by the romantic French Provincial style. Grace studied the home’s rich but chipped night-blue brick, which outlined the home’s symmetrical round-topped windows with sunburst detailing. The house must have been beautiful at one time, she imagined, but now the sun only illuminated its wear.
By Rebecca Henderson6 years ago in Horror
Bag Boy
Umf! Watch where you’re going dammit. And of course, I drop the vase. It falls into the valley of space being pierced at light speed by my eyes, my hands incapable of stopping the inevitable as the Waterford crystal impacts and then disintegrates into a brilliant star, gone supernova at its inception.
By Yar Sheets6 years ago in Horror
Finding Ever After
"Lani." *Silence* "Lani." I turned over as I began to recognize that I was indeed hearing my name. It was my girlfriend. I peeked my eyes open and then saw on our nightstand the clock had 2 AM sprawled across. Slowly my eyes began to adjust to the darkness with nothing but the moonlight from the night sky gleaming through the window, and I could see she was looking at me with her big brown eyes filled with dismay and frustration.
By Chloe Jenkins6 years ago in Horror
The Ashen Horse
“It has become a national issue, Josie,” commented Tim. Timmy Burkman, senior detective for the Federal Bureau of Investigation, preferred to be called Tim. This steaming pile of excrement had fallen on his plate, and although he didn’t want to get anywhere near it. He had to defend the company line to Josie, a lieutenant in the Salt Lake City Police Department.
By Daryl Benson6 years ago in Horror
Inheritance
I always knew my aunt Beverly was eccentric and a little odd. We were close, especially when I was little, I would go to her house to visit, it was always a magical experience. Her home was ancient, a Victorian house built in the mid 1800s, I always called it a doll house. There were these massive oak trees in the front yard, their branches twisted toward the sky like boney fingers. The interior of the house was old, but beautiful, the floorboards would creak and crack when you would walk on them. Whenever I spent the night, I slept in her “Blue” room. The floral wallpaper was peeling off, the crown modeling was cracked, but the four poster bed in the middle of the room was enormous and so comfortable. When I would lay in the middle of the room at night, I could remember feeling terrified by the dark. I always felt like someone was watching me and whispering, preventing me from falling asleep easily. When I finally did, I was restless, tossing and turning. In the morning my aunt Bev would wake me up and we would eat breakfast in her garden. Her garden was enchanting, it reminded me of being in a fantasy world. She had all sorts of colorful flowers and plants. The stone pathway went from the patio out to a lavish fountain that flowed into a koi pond. Her backyard was my absolute favorite. We would eat at her metal table, listening to the music the birds made. She would tell me stories about the places she had been. Talking with her hands, that were fitted with the loveliest jeweled rings and her nails were always long and painted. I loved my aunt Bev dearly. As I got older, I spent less time with her. I would still occasionally spend the night when I was a teenager, but mostly I just saw her on holidays. When I was twenty-five my dear Aunt Bev was diagnosed with dementia. I used to take turns with my mother and sister to go and take care of her at her home. It got to a point where she was too far gone and had to be put into a retirement home. I went to her house to take care of her koi fish. Her garden was overgrown with weeds, the color had been drained from the flowers, it broke my heart. One afternoon, I sat at our table and cried. I thought of the best memories we had together. We always had a special bond, even when I went to visit her in the facility she would light up, even if it was short lived. Her gray blue eyes would eventually lose their spark and she would forget who I was again. It was the most agonizing thing I had ever experienced. Bev passed away when I was twenty-nine. She was not a wealthy woman, but the bit of money she had she left to me. Twenty- thousand dollars. She also left me her house that I loved so dearly. I decided I would move into her house and take over the property to restore it back to its former magical greatness. I moved into the house two weeks after Beverly’s funeral. She requested that her ashes be spread in her garden, under her willow tree. I respected her wishes immediately and then got to work shortly after. I began in the garden, pulling all of the weeds and trimming the overgrowth. I spent over three hours cleaning the pond and taking care of the koi fish. By the end of the day, I was so exhausted, I didn't even have the energy to make dinner. I went to bed in the blue room, memories flooding back of the nights I spent there as a child. I laid there in the dark, staring up at the ceiling and wondering to myself where the time had gone. How was I already an adult and my favorite Aunt gone forever? Before I realized it, tears were streaming down my face. I wept uncontrollably. I suddenly felt so very alone and frightened. I went downstairs to try and clear my head. “I wish my Aunt Bev was here.” I whispered. I lit the fireplace in the living room, cocooned myself in an old blanket and laid down on Bev’s dusty couch. My tears eventually dried and I thought of happy thoughts before finally drifting off to sleep.
By Elora Ackerman6 years ago in Horror
Page 20.
Stephen Janisse groaned as he tossed his phone onto the couch. He dropped his face into his hands and paused for a moment, soaking in the stress. Life had been frantic since Stephen had been furloughed a few weeks ago. He hadn’t had any luck finding a new job and applying for unemployment had been a nightmare. The stress of it all was overwhelming. His emotions finally began to bubble over, and he felt himself break into tears. His body broke into heavy, heaving sobs. It was a release he needed, although the stressor remained... he was out of money.
By Rochelle Gordon6 years ago in Horror
The Coat Man
On the subway, I see the usual people on my commute; the man that wears the same black coat who carries the same briefcase. He is probably about 50ish, still has a full head of hair and I would imagine that he still attracts a lot of attention. Today he wore a bright red scarf. He seems very solemn, so I like to think about how that choice played out this morning for him.
By Jess Wisniewski6 years ago in Horror
