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Most recently published stories in Horror.
Blew Away
Chapter One: Enter The Owl Kashshaptu Part One: Idle Gossip The year is 1960. Henry and Rachel Wells are driving down one of the many dirt roads of Grimwood. The radio is silent as are the Wells. Their youngest son was found dead in the woods two weekends ago. They’ve only lived in Grimwood a few years now, and misery seems to be the only thing God holds in store. They sit quiet and still, staring ahead at the next curve. They left their oldest, Martin, at home. He can’t be a part of what’s to come. Henry is a smart man. He knows the idle gossip of small towns, but, desperate times… yada, yada... He keeps thinking what if that old drunk was right? He can’t continue not knowing, and Rachel, well, she’s dead, too. She talks from time to time, but she’s emotionless. She acts as though she’s in a dream. They’ve been driving silent like this for almost an hour. The silence seems to be screaming at them. The death of their youngest son, Daniel, was just too violent to think of anything else. He’d been ripped apart, just a bloody mess that scarcely looked human. The police said it looked like an animal attack, maybe a coyote or bobcat, but what kind of animal would leave him there like that? He wasn’t even eaten. Henry doesn’t consider himself very religious, and yet he admits the air is evil out here. And there is definitely something wrong with today. The sky is grey with thick rain clouds, and the lightning is growing steadily worse.
By Cannibal Jones7 years ago in Horror
Reed Alexander's Horror Review of 'Frankenstein's Army' (2013)
Okay, the very concept of this movie is fucking silly but... This movie was FUCKING AWESOME! Look, don't exactly expect a great plot. Hell, I'm not sure this movie even had a coherent plot. In fact, it was so thin they might as well have not bothered. But, FUCKING INDUSTRIAL MECHANICAL NAZIS!!! This made every portion of the teenage metal head inside of me squee with delight. If you played Wolfenstine, Doom, Blood, or Quake, this was just part of your horror scene growing up. Horror, Metal, and Video Games defined my generation. I'm actually shocked it took the horror industry this long to pander to us as adults.
By Reed Alexander7 years ago in Horror
To Penumbra
I have always loved secret things. Forgotten basements and attics full of dusty boxes, tucked away and neglected; old uncared for relics sent to the thrift shop or the dump and regarded as mere clutter; things hidden in the walls or under the floorboard, things left and forgotten, never meant to be rediscovered. These sorts of things all have a story of their own, a story that can't be told, but only unraveled.
By D.C. Perry7 years ago in Horror
Nightmare Journal: Gun Boy
I could feel that he wasn’t as in to me as I was in to him. I sat awkwardly on my twin bed against the window as he stood, vacant, at its side. Conversation had been dull and vague throughout the night and I spent it wondering what was on his mind, even though I already knew. I thought that a boy who charmed me the way he had in the beginning would be the one. I guess I was wrong, and now I’m stuck in this limbo until he voices his feelings, or ghosts me, which I could see him doing after today.
By Ecarg Nosive7 years ago in Horror
The Yakutia Mystery
Chapter One - Finding it Yuri Vasiliev, at 55 years old, was surprisingly tough as nails. A stocky build with graying hair, his body a mass of sinewy muscles sculptured by years of digging for mammoth remains in the hills. In his local village in Yakutia, Russia, he was affectionately known as "the bull," a nickname his wife Nadia found rather amusing. Yuri and Nadia were poor, childless mammoth hunters who lived at the bottom of the Sakha mountain frontier. For centuries, this northern region of Russia had been an unforgiving and desolate permafrost once teeming with giant mammoths before their demise and disappearance from the face of the earth. Shifting weather patterns have recently led to a significant thaw of the permafrost, revealing what Yakutians referred to as a "treasure trove" of mammoth remains, highly prized in China. First described in the Siberian Times as the mammoth rush, mammoth hunting has recently exploded into a thriving local economy, attracting hunters from all over Russia into Yakutia, the kingdom of permafrost.
By Will Mathonsi7 years ago in Horror
Reed Alexander's Horror Review of 'Ready or Not' (2019)
Holy fuck! What a whacked out movie! I brought this up once before and I'll bring it up again in my review of Primal (coming soon), but I think I stated it best in my review of Don't Kill It. It is possible to go too dark for dark comedy. This movie was likely supposed to be your standard horror thriller when it was first written, then either the producers of the director realized how absolutely ridiculous the concept is. Mind you, this movie could be done seriously, as in not a dark comedy, but I really think adding the extra layer of dark comedy was positive. Don't Kill It went a little too far. This one was just about right.
By Reed Alexander7 years ago in Horror
Reed Alexander's Horror Review of 'Primal' (2010)
I love it when I tiptoe through the bargain bin movies and it yields a little gem like this. Like all movies with a shoe string budget, it's not what one would call good cinema, but it was a fuck ton of fun. As I'm often to point out, that's all that fucking matters. Remember, I also grade on a curve, and while this clearly did have some budget, it wouldn't even approach a small Hollywood production.
By Reed Alexander7 years ago in Horror
The Candy Striper
I hadn’t thought about her in over 50 years (dating self); however, sitting in a Waffle House the other morning, I overheard a conversation from a very excited young man. His story was that his son had been in the hospital, and recovered largely because of a Candy Striper. His consternation was that he never learned the name of the young woman who spent so many late night hours with his son. By the way, this is an old story, repeated many times over the years.
By Dub Wright7 years ago in Horror
The Scent of Desire (Pt. 2)
John Dillinger Connelly had been named for a legend. His mom, a wild young firecracker, had been enamored with stories of the notorious gangster’s Robin Hood persona and with the romance of rebellion. JD had grown up with a name as heavy as a mantle of state in a revolving household of well-meaning but dysfunctional relatives, and while he had not become a steely-eyed gangster, he was not without his own set of shadowy skills. The irony of his life was that those skills had made him an asset to Nick and Tess, setting him on a path of legitimate employment that even helped people. It had been the other thing, the coyote trickster in him, that had got him killed. He sat on the cane seat of a ladder-backed chair in the corner of Tess’s bedroom with his hands on his knees watching her drag shirts and leggings from her backpack and sling them onto the bed. She was angry, probably with him, and he felt the familiar sting of remorse that had so often followed his ill-considered adventures while he had lived.
By Liz Zimmers7 years ago in Horror
