fiction
Horror fiction that delivers on its promise to scare, startle, frighten and unsettle. These stories are fake, but the shivers down your spine won't be.
Names
Michael went to the fridge, and no surprise, it was empty. Staring into its depths, wondering, what he could make with the random opened jars and to-go containers of smelly, nearly outdated food. He switched to the freezer, even worse. He grabbed a bottle of water and sat in his worn, crumb and dog hair encrusted recliner. Opening up the water and taking a swig, he thought, this place is such a dump. Stains on the carpet, dried food and spills on the linoleum made his feet stick with every step. How was he going to get out of here? Damn, the rent was due Monday. He turned on the tv. Flipped through the crap of channels that he could get with the antenna. Which was like eight! Looked around frustrated and disappointed. Turned the tv off and just tossed the remote away randomly to the floor. The place smelled like dog crap. He kind of wished he didn’t kick the dog out to fend for itself, then he would at least have someone to talk to, but there wasn’t any food to give it anyways. He slid out of his two-day old boxer briefs and got in the shower. Soap was empty. “DAMN IT!” He filled the bottle with a little water and got the remaining suds out and onto his face, just enough to get that ick off. “Man! What a crappy day! What a crappy week!” He yelled throwing open the shower curtain, which fell and nearly tripped him. He fumbled with it and then slammed it to the wet floor stomping out he slipped a little bit but caught himself, “Gawd!” He wrapped a dinghy towel around his waist that he yanked up from the floor and then flung himself onto the bed. Dripping wet the sheet stuck to him like an old band aid that had been there for a week and was about to fall off. He stared at the ceiling in a daze, the fans’ slow rotation drew him deeper into thought like being hypnotized. He let out a painful scream tensing every muscle in his body. “AAAAAAAHHHHHH!” Then slinking back into silence, a single tear rolled down his face and into his ear.
By Ronald Roberts6 years ago in Horror
Ravaged by Wild Beasts Underground
I held my flashlight in one hand, and in my other, a small satchel. It was pretty dark, and sneaking into the cemetery at night was not what I wanted to be doing on a Friday night. My father was the caretaker of the place. So, now I have to go down to one of these crypts and get the tools he left there earlier.
By Jezebel Rose6 years ago in Horror
Who's Playing Who?
It was a cold rainy day, but Sam’s dog wanted to take a walk like she always did. Sam jogged alongside Biscuit hoping she would get tired of the cold and rain quickly so they could go home. As they hit the edge of the park where the dense trees started, Biscuit started to slow down giving Sam some hope of returning to the warm dry car not too far off.
By Amanda Castelli6 years ago in Horror
Black Hope
It's beautiful. In a world so dark, it was strangely beautiful. Each night he would read to me. I could sense his passion for this Book, the beauty behind the word he would speak and its emotional connection to him. This book seemed like it was passed on by someone he loved very much.
By Bogdan Gheorghita6 years ago in Horror
Tischa May
Tischa May was a lady who sat like a lady. At this very moment, she was sitting with her back of the straightest order, more upright than even the walls of the room. Her bottom did not touch the back of the lounge chair on which she sat, so that it rested just shy of the edge of it, just shy of falling straight off it. If someone pulled that lounging chair away from Tischa May’s bottom, she could-not would-not topple onto the floor space. No, her legs indeed could-not would-not budge one centimeter — they would stay put in the most perfect of right angles, as if still propped up by the chair.
By Francesca Alster6 years ago in Horror
CASHLIFE, a Dark Web Game Show
The splash screen displayed the game show's logo, bright yellow over a gradient blend of hot pinks, neon purples, and deep blues. Through the computer speakers aired a song as colorful as its visual accompaniment, synthetic and cheery and energetic, with a sort of 80's action movie vibe, the beat rowed forward quickly by a choppy guitar riff on one oar and a vibrant, powerful drumbeat on the other.
By Matt Terzi6 years ago in Horror
Little Black Will
Who would even leave a dollar for the reaper? Bad PR aside even ferrymen make a better living, a greater insult to grim than the devil’s mounds of fiery gold given freely by Satanic worshippers. If bones required any upkeep then nobody would last long in the job that needed no body. Is the occasional dry clean for the uniform of black robes too much to ask? Something to distract from the monotony of the vocation. Of course people die in interesting ways, but people die in interesting ways all the time. Only a week of finding cadavers with pants around their ankles and belts around their necks, or the geriatric orgies that left behind mounds of feeble hearted bodies, and the comedy of those sights was gone. Black comedy, just the way grim likes it.
By Cameron Lang6 years ago in Horror
