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Most recently published stories in Horror.
Lost but not forgotten
I have always had a love for buildings that have been lost or forgotten, but when my husband took me to this location I fell in love. As you walk around this large breathtaking site you can see and understand what the workers had to do daily to run this beautiful plant out of Pedro, Ohio. This stunning worksite is stretched out across 7,500 acres and everywhere you look you can see some part of the old factory. In 1986 the plant was closed down due to some labor disputes against the site. Many have made claims since then for years this location was not only ran-down but full of it's lost workers who have passed and still walked the grounds in which they worked their daily work shifts. There has also been those whose life was taken on the site itself. These lives are not only of those who worked here but those of the area who had their life taken. An offset feeling will take over you, as you step into these large towering buildings. The feelings of sadness and playfulness take over, yet there is a little bit of a scary feeling to the site due to the stories surround the site; as well, there is no lighting within the towers. This site is very large this is just one of the three towers in which you can walk into. The walls are covered with tags and paintings of those who came and wanted to be known for their visits. Rusted metal and broken cement shafts that helped its workers mixed what they are told to do daily cover the grounds, alongside overgrowth eating up the towers like a hungry child would eat up their lunch. It is stunning and beautiful how what is lost or forgotten can truly be. Or is it really forgotten at all?
By JESSICA HICKS6 years ago in Horror
Trapped: Part 1
When his eyes opened he was greeted by a dimly lit damp room. The ceiling decorated with an old decrepit fan that the man had no idea what its purpose was. Efforts to move his wrists and feet enlighten him to a tingling numb feeling that often comes from shackles that are too tight. Finding the effort to move futile he propped his head up to try to get a good look at the rest of the room. Two others were present. One to his right, and one to his left. At the foot of the bed a clipboard with some papers on it. Presumably at least. Towards the right an iron door and a dimply lit lantern that served as the rooms only light source. Gods, this room is depressing.
By Jauren Riloski6 years ago in Horror
To Make Him Stay
Her expression could have been seen from miles away, her sorrowful eyes glistening with tears as her lip quivered. Una Ferguson, a young woman at the age of 21, was very well known around town. She was sweet. She was generous. Her voice, always laced with sugar as she spoke. Quite an angel, this girl was. Not only, in appearance but deep down in her heart as well. If ever there was a frown on her face, it was never out in public. Her face shined like the brilliant sun as she walked around town, grinning at every passerby. So, the devastating expression she had on her face was not just saddening, but disturbing. For, how could a light shining so bright suddenly turn off? A tear rolled down her cheek, as she stared out of the window, one thought in her head—Steven Bailey, her boyfriend of seven years. Seven years and he still hasn’t even brought up the topic of marriage. Seven years and Una was starting to feel disheartened whenever he would leave early in the morning and come back late at night, which was almost daily. It was basically breakfast, leave, dinner, and bed. Though they slept only inches away from each other, Una always felt alone. Her worries of “when is he going to marry me?” had long gone, as her head filled with destructive questions and conclusions. Where is he going? Who is he with? Why does he always come late? Most importantly, why doesn’t he hold me anymore? And why don’t we talk anymore? Her partner had now become simply her roommate. In other words, Una longed for affection. She ran her fingers through her soft, curly, brown hair, as she waited for his return. Then, her eyes widened and her eyebrows lifted. Harsh lights and a single honking sound. He’s back! She got on her feet and practically sprinted to the garage door, only to be greeted with her boyfriend’s tired eyes and “I’m skipping dinner tonight”. She watched him as he walked into their bedroom, saying nothing. As soon as she heard the door close, she felt a sharp pain in her heart. “But I cooked your favorite…”
By Salem Rosé6 years ago in Horror
Funeral Boy
Roman stared at his reflection in the mirror, buttoning his black dress shirt up with his nose in the air. He darted his eyes to the right of his mirror, where he could see his bedroom door open. There stood a woman with a concerned look on her face. “Are you sure you’re okay Roman?” she said. “Mom, how many times do I have to tell you. I’m fine.” His worried mother raised her perfectly plucked, brown eyebrows. Roman was a proud boy. He was never the type to show his weaknesses. “You haven’t been acting like yourself.” she said. The boy slightly parted his lips and huffed in frustration. He was easily irritated and most definitely did not enjoy being poked and prodded like this, but he raised his head even higher. An entitled, arrogant boy by nature, his intimidating aura started to grow stronger. His mother sighed. “Be outside in ten minutes.” she turned to a tall older man, holding an expressionless face, as always. “Wadsworth, please make sure he’s down by ten. Late arrival is horrendous for the family image.” Wadsworth was the family’s butler. A strong silent type, he has known and served Roman since he was an infant. He nodded in response and watched her head down the marble stairs, with her head hung low and a frown on her face. Roman had the whole household worried. He’s been acting differently, since the death of his best friend, Finny had died. He’d become more robotic since then, his face harder to read and demeanor significantly more haughty than usual. He acted as if Finny’s death had no effect on him.
By Salem Rosé6 years ago in Horror
Indisputable evidence that ghosts exist
It all happened in the old family house in a place in India. The house was 500 years old with banyan shoots and creepers and climbers growing all over but housing four families of the Chatterjee's. Generation after generation has lived and died here and the house has been a witness to all the anguish, apprehension, property feud, jealousy, you name it and it's all there.
By Junita Chatterjee6 years ago in Horror
The trip
I ran. its all I could do I this point He was coming. It was coming and there is nothing I can do about it. The forest is tall like a man but acts like the devil. The tress shield their faces away from me too scared to see about what's going to come. The forest was a complex place, full of vines and roots which twist and turn in all different ways. The tress shield their faces away from me too scared to see about what's going to come they hide their oak layer and replace it with mother natures mask. They wail for something, anyone, to come and protect their from the curse and cruelly of the forest but the forest isn't from a fairly tale so no one came to save them. The animals of the forest run away from the pain which laid there, waiting for them to fall for it, like they always do in the spell of hopelessness. The forest wasn't always filled with this curse, It was once filled with light and the goodness we all have in us but sometimes we all don't get our happy ending and the curse will be waiting to come and rain over us like pollution in the sea. Much like the pollution in the sea, The forest kills any or every source of light and live in it in a slowly mental way. I couldn't stay anymore i need to leave. i climb my way of out that forest and my eyes land on a dock? why would there be a dock next to a forest?
By Chelsea Gilliatt6 years ago in Horror
What You Don't Know (Part One)
Chapter One He opened his eyes to a blinding light. His first thought was that it reminded him of childbirth, of new life, of one person entering a room and two people leaving. As his eyes adjusted to the light, it became very clear that the opposite was going on here. He found himself strapped to a very uncomfortable metal chair, with wires stuck all over his body. He was in a very small room, on one side there was a large mirror that he assumed was one way from countless evenings spent watching police shows. Around the rest of the room were a single door and several cutesy motivational posters that you’d typically find in a dull cubicle.
By Blaire Gockley6 years ago in Horror
‘Relic’ is a Masterclass in Independent Horror
When I saw Relic at the Sundance Premiere in January (it feels like an eternity ago), I was floored. Catching up with the film before sitting down to pen this, soon to be, overwhelmingly positive review, I was still floored. In her directorial debut, Natalie Erika James has crafted a horrific masterpiece on par with the likes of Sam Raimi and Jordan Peele‘s theatrical debuts in The Evil Dead and Get Out, respectively.
By MovieBabble6 years ago in Horror
All Good Things Must Come to an End
One hundred and thirty miles per hour. Just me, my fiancee, my Model J, and highway for miles. Pure serenity. The gas light blinking in my dashboard is the only deterrent from cruising at full speed. On my left is a haze of greenery. On my right is my beautiful fiancee; the way the sun hits her jade green eyes brings back sweet childhood memories of soccer fields and freshwater. Her long blonde hair flutters in the wind leaving a light flowery scent behind. There isn’t a place or a person I want to be with more. Other than the bloody hotel room--if only it wasn’t so far away. We’ve been eagerly awaiting a vacation like this; even if it’s only for a weekend. Bright hot sun and sandy beaches. I love places like Florida. Everyone always seems to be having fun no matter where you go. At the moment, though, I’m just glad to be on the road. I look over to my future bride with wonder. Everytime I see her face it reminds me of the first time I saw her. So full of life and wonder. Always able to disable a situation with her jokes. She knows what’s up and always has. This time, I gave her a hopeful smile. One that says, I love you and I’m glad you’re next to me. We have that kind of connection. I can just look at her and know what she’s thinking or what she’s about to say. She knows I’m at peace--which is why she fights through all the dramamine. She’s well equipped nonetheless. With her water bottle and paper bag at the ready, she’s a true car-sick trooper.
By Jeremie Thorpe6 years ago in Horror
Merciless
One foot after another, I approached the neon yellow taxi. The exterior stung my eyes in combination with the bright lights of Times Square. I focused my watery eyes on the black and blue stripes of the taxicab to calm my vision. I rubbed my eyes, reverting my sight to a mere blur. I rubbed them again and looked at the cab once more. The tires looked old and like they were deteriorating, ready to burst at any moment. Looking inside the windows, which were filthy from months of winter grime and condensation, I noticed that the seats were made of some kind of fake leather that was coming apart at the seams. I moved my glance over to the front of the car. The passenger seat held his wallet, bag, and papers in a pile. Under his rearview there was a nametag with a name I didn’t bother to read and a face I did not recognize, nor will I remember. Under the nametag there was a meter that was already started the second we made eye-contact. The second I opened the door, a mix between body odor and cherry air freshener blasted my nostrils. To my surprise and good fortune, there was no camera. I crouched down, careful not to hit my head on the roof, and took a step into the car. I begrudgingly sat on his old and torn seats. I sat behind the passenger seat. The car was so old that the fabric tore under me causing a small hole. I put my bag down next to me. His dashboard hula shook back and forth, as though it was mocking me. Settling inside the car my vision was set on the ornament rocking back and forth. I tried to ignore it, but it kept taunting me.
By Jeremie Thorpe6 years ago in Horror
