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.
Only Thirty Minutes
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. The day was already a little different than it normally was. It was early September, but still very warm for autumn. I’d been able to sleep in. I was scheduled for delivery driving at Hideaway Pizza at 7:30pm. Usually, I was scheduled for the whole day: 11am to 9pm. Thursday wasn’t a typical work day for me, but one of the drivers had called in sick. It would be a short shift, but I liked the idea of a few extra dollars in my pocket.
By Elizabeth Stanger 4 years ago in Horror
Imposter
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. Inside, Dantae and Sophia were busy getting the place ready for habitation, as it had grown dusty and fallen into disrepair over the years that it had been empty. They would have to stay in the cabin for at least a week, maybe two, while they waited for the lower floor of their house to be remodelled. The cozy little cabin was owned by Dantae's uncle for years before he died but for some reason he never used it, even though it was in a prime location for hunting and camping.
By Insinq Datum4 years ago in Horror
Fear Not, Little One
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. The window clouded an dusted by webs and debris hardly made the flickering light transparent enough to see. It's almost as if you had to have been intuitively warned and notioned to know it was even on. Tis A night to remember, when a new flame came in November. Sometimes, you just have to trust your gut.
By Eric Fliger4 years ago in Horror
Thump.
Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. The infinite tick of the clock had me wishing the period would end. I wasn't even listening, but even if I'd wanted to, I couldn't block out the incessant noises in my head. One, in particular, stood out from the rest, and annoyed me to no end, not for its volume, but for its familiarity. I couldn't quite place my finger on what this low thumping sounded like. Possibly machinery, or furniture moving. The constant thrum of whatever it was never let up. Could no one else hear it? What was it? My curiosity burned, but I dared not investigate what it was. I was a dreamer, not an adventurer. Or, if you prefer, a coward. I much preferred speculation to action. In fact, sometimes, I'd make up outlandish reasons for the sound's existence. Anything from aliens to someone punching a cardboard box was plausible in my mind. I always chuckled at what I could come up with. Occasionally, however, when the thumping stopped, only for a second, I'd wonder if I'd ever have the courage to actually seek out its source. Every single time I would lose my nerve. The images that invaded my mind convinced me that death or injury would be a heavy price to pay to satisfy my curiosity.
By Caroline Ghenadenik4 years ago in Horror
An Ode to Cousin Luciano
Illinois, 1936 The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night a candle burned in the window. The flame marked the end of a ritual that occurred on nights of tragedy and attempted to signal a hope for what was to come next. Since its first manifestation well over fifteen years ago, the ritual seemed to transpire more and more frequently.
By Nash Ryder4 years ago in Horror
Paint
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. Aldwin Eliot might not have noticed the light if he hadn’t been feverishly painting the old log cabin onto his canvas. He peered through the glass window from where he sat in his parent’s hunting shack, canvas and acrylics dominating the flimsy card table in front of him. He downed the dregs of some cheap coffee and ran a hand over his unshaven face, squinting out the window into the trees. The cabin hunkered just across the edge of his parents’ property, locked and abandoned since he was a kid. He’d never thought much of it before, but now, in the moonlit evening, nestled in the crooked pines, it demanded to be painted. He had dabbled a dot of yellow in one of the windows because it felt right, and turned out, the dot of paint WAS right. A single candle flickered in the right window of the actual cabin. Strange. He spit out a few drops of murky paint into the trash bin nearby. He really needed to stop biting the end of his paintbrush.
By Miriam Beckwith4 years ago in Horror
Until the Wick Burns Out
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. The surrounding forest once bustling with creatures of the night had now fallen silent, with the only sign of life being the solitary flame. The centuries-old trees that should be leafy green in the middle of summer, have now wilted into nothingness--bare limbs tell the tale of lost vigor. The pungent odor of decay repels even the most ravenous of scavengers, as if the dilapidated cabin has a force-field of death around its perimeter. No man nor beast dare to come within the radius of what would assuredly cause their untimely demise. The small town of Harthesborough, Minnesota would never forget the dark events that took place just outside of its peoples’ residences.
By Antonio Sanchez4 years ago in Horror
The Abandoned Cabin
The cabin in the woods has been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. Melissa must have arrived already you think as you pull up outside the cabin. The woods are beautiful in the golden autumnal sun that’s just about to slip over the horizon. There are old pines and ferns, and woodland mushrooms with their caps peaking out of the undergrowth. The wind is picking up and screams through the trees and vines causing them to whip around the mossy windows of the dilapidated cabin. It does not look like your normal choice of holiday destination.
By Laura Cope4 years ago in Horror
