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.
Carnival: Discharge
“They’re gone because of you.” Josh woke up screaming once again. It was only getting worse. It had been six months since he was rescued from Sunny. Though Sunny, physically, escaped. Josh was very much haunted by the events. He had convinced himself that everyone was only being nice to him because they felt bad for him. He already felt bad enough for being the only survivor. He didn’t want their charity.
By Christopher Shavers4 years ago in Horror
Carnival: Knock Knock
A female and male couple stumbled through the front door of a cabin. Kissing all over each other, they comment on how great of an idea it was to steal her dad’s keys. They justify it by saying her dad hasn’t done anything with the place for years and how he was trying to get other family members to take the property from him. As the male kissed along her neck, asking why wouldn’t anyone want to live there. She said she didn’t understand why. In between breaths, they complimented the cabin while comparing it to each other. The smooth surface of the floor, the crystal decorations being very clean, the animal fur rug being well maintained, the wood being strong. As they began to undress, there were two knocks at the door. Annoyed, the male went over to see who it was.
By Christopher Shavers4 years ago in Horror
The Camp Out Of Horror!
Chapter Three! He curled his lip sexy at Valley looking down at her as he took his big long hands up her legs and Pushes her against his Raging Desire where she kissed him as he swallowed hard with a sexy Husky Ugh...mm m damn baby he went sexy to Valley...as he bit his lip...?”
By Vicky 'A' Blevins Reavis4 years ago in Horror
Goblin Bites: Scary Stories 16
Robert thought he'd hit the jackpot of awesome, cushy jobs. For the past year, he'd made a decent living as a professional house sitter. The work was stupid easy in most cases: just make the house look lived in while the owner was away. Occasionally there was a pet that needed looking after too, or a handful of house plants to keep watered, but overall it was more or less the same every time. All Robert had to do was sit around and watch TV for a few days... and he got paid for it. Most of the homeowners were extra cool and allowed him to help himself to their pantries, as a part of his pay. The long and the short of it was Robert absolutely loved his job and thought he was the luckiest guy in the entire world... that is, until his last job.
By Natalie Gray4 years ago in Horror
The Last Human Thing
Have you noticed how many people die of cancer in Stephen King stories? It’s not a coincidence. The Master of Horror knows his field. King’s mother died of uterine cancer, so he knows whereof he speaks. If I was going to have one thing in common with Stephen King, I’d have rather had his book sales. But there we go.
By Nico Reznick4 years ago in Horror
The Shrine
Percy’s khaki, 1990 Volvo shook and sputtered laboriously as it made its way up one of the many winding hills of Bloomfield road. It wasn’t late, but it was dark. The overhanging trees blackened the road to the point that only the yellow lines were visible through the wobbling headlights. Two tall, cylindrical speakers sat duct-taped to the dash – bulky, white Hewlard Packards we had secretively stolen from the high-school computer lab. They weren’t great, but they were far better than the Volvo’s stock-speakers. Plus, they had an auxiliary chord that could connect to the Zune – our prized music-playing device. Percy scrolled through his collection of music – one hand on the wheel, the other on the Zune – as the car swerved across the middle lane and back to the right side of the road. He finally settled on Smashing Pumpkins. Cracked through the better, though still imperfect HP speakers, Billy Corgan’s voice rang through the Volvo, out the windows, and into the otherwise silent night. We sang along with him:
By Robert Pettus4 years ago in Horror
The Portrait
I still remember the first time it spoke to me, the portrait of the majestic lady in green that is, like it was yesterday. Rain was pouring outside, thunder had been repeatedly shaking the foundation while lightning illuminated every dark and dusty corner of the old mansion. I was walking down the hall, about to take the stairs while putting an earring in when I heard a voice.
By Mark Crouch4 years ago in Horror
If The Father Calls
Susan told me, “If you won’t talk to anybody about it, then write about it.” She knows something bad happened when I was young. She knows it’s the reason I have nightmares all these years later but doesn’t know more than that. And I won’t tell her. I love her too much to tell her. But maybe she’s right. Maybe it’s for the best that I return to the memory of that night. Maybe then the dreams will stop. I’ll try anything.
By Talbot Finch4 years ago in Horror
''To Be What Others Fear'' by Hopefullygoodgramar
Has the painful injustice of your sad situation kindled wrath in your soul? Do you wish to lash out and make the person or persons involved regret all that they've done to you? Do you wish to see them bleed and scream and suffer as you have suffered? Then, my friend, have I got a solution for you. You see, the world is far more mysterious than most believe. With every scientific breakthrough, there are still five more anomalies which the rational mind cannot explain. Beneath the veneer of industry and happiness lie shadows that are deeper, older and more unnatural than can be explained away by a rational mind.
By Mark Emily4 years ago in Horror
