Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Horror.
Dark-Haired Dead Girl
It is a strange and crazy thing to see the other side of the veil. My gift isn't as strong as others. I have to close my eyes before I can activate my third eye. I can only see when I can't see. Today, I will share a story about a dark-haired dead girl and what transpired when we first met.
By Jennifer S. Benson 6 years ago in Horror
Her
Her Her hands trembled as she reached for it. She knew it was wrong to go through other people's belongings, but she felt such an unavoidable temptation. It was clear, if she saw what was inside, there was no going back. There was no life before this. Nothing to stop her from pursuing what would come after opening the book. She hesitated, pulled back - and eventually, reached her hand out – ever so slightly. She picked up the book. She opened it. The first line of wording on the first page scared her. She immediately put the book down. She walked away.
By Brittanee Loomis6 years ago in Horror
Magnolia
July 17th, 1998 Long fingers dragged across the soot covered curve of the banister. I caressed the old wood and tapped along it like ivory piano keys. Everything was in ruin, the curtains, once heavy scarlet brocade, now fell in blackened whisps like burnt spiderwebs. The heel of my satin pump was broken off, it’s jagged edge making a rhythmic thumping as I moved across the room. Spinning, I watched the taffeta tear and the smell of burnt hair crescendoed in my senses. Arms outstretched I spun like a swan with singed feathers, letting my body move with the music only I seemed to hear crackling from the old record player in the corner. I watched my wide eyes in the window, or what was left of it, my face fragmented in the shards of glass. The chandelier on the ceiling moaned above me, sending her crystalline tears smattering the floor. I remember my mother’s pearls making the same sound when the strand broke off her neck. I recall watching them roll under her dressing table one by one, their opalescent glow seemed drawn to the shadows. Her fingers reached underneath, inching around like a copper colored spider, but she only found the sharp end of a hat pin. I had waited until she had left before reaching under myself. She had darted from the room, sucking her wounded finger and smearing a little blood on the corner of her mouth. I lifted my skirt and bent to my knees, holding out my hand for a moment until I felt one of those pearls roll right into it. I closed my fist around it like a small pink clam and when I finally opened it again, the pearl was red.
By Camille Boudreau6 years ago in Horror
Nice Guy
I am a nice guy, a good person. Sure, yes, I do sometimes do bad things, but so does everyone else. I’ve had bad things done to me, and I’ve done bad things to others, but I try to learn from those mistakes, and I think that makes me a good person. Better, in fact, than most.
By Tim Pierpont6 years ago in Horror
