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.
The Lady of the Island
The tired, old wind now only wheezes out a few dry breaths, and the sun has gone away leaving the sky gray, dark, and cloudy while the grass becomes brittle and stiff. There is a small, abandoned road in the middle of a field leading up to a house far away from everything. In fact, it’s on its own island. The road is rough and rocky, though from a distance one can hardly tell that it is there. The woman and her husband who were left shipwrecked here ten years ago had built the house.
By Katy Christensen7 years ago in Horror
The Oak Tree
Smoke filled the cab of the rusted Chevrolet truck. Claire sat with her legs tucked under her and a lit cigarette dangled from the corner of her mouth. On other nights, the truck sat in a path of moonlight, but tonight was different- darker than any night she had seen previously. To her right sat an oak tree — the oak tree. Its lower branches scratch the outside of the truck ever so gently, begging to come inside and get some relief from the rain that hits its leaves.
By Kahri O'Brien7 years ago in Horror
The Mirror of Endless Sight
The night was quiet and still, the leaves rustling all around the forest, temporarily breaking the silence that enveloped the place, like a whisper in a church hall. The road was empty — not a single vehicle in sight, and the sky was pitch black, the moon hiding itself behind an endless number of clouds. Mark Freeman walked slowly and steadily, his eyes downcast and a curious air of melancholy and acceptance around him. He wore a black trench coat and his hands were tucked into his pockets. His glasses dangled loosely from his face and he had to push them back up every few minutes. His shoes scraped against the cement of the road creating a rather unpleasant sound, but Mark paid no heed to it. He continued along his way, undisturbed.
By Arvind Pennathur7 years ago in Horror
Fix
Mary Bright didn’t like to consider herself a regular customer. And she absolutely detested me calling her a regular patient. But the crooked curliness of her signature on my appointment sheets through the past three weeks pointed towards the obvious fact: Mary Bright was, beyond all doubt, my most regular patient and my highest paying customer. Before her consultation with me I was puzzled. She’d called in, made an appointment, but didn’t have a specific procedure in mind. The day of the appointment she came tip-toeing into the office. An astonishingly average looking woman. Tall, but no model height. Skinny, but strongly built. Shoulder length hair without layers and in terms of bone structure, quite a square shaped face. I greeted her with my name, but got nothing in reply. The whole vibe of her nervousness was disturbing at first, but I guess I got used to it.
By Margit Fagerbekk7 years ago in Horror
The Nocturne Chamber Part 4
The street bustled with activity as I pushed passed the crowds and found my way to the metro station. Hopping on a train, I sat in a seat quietly for several minutes before exiting the automatic doors and climbing the stairs to the street. My coat billowed in the wind of a deserted path as I walked off toward Breyer Street, just three blocks over to the left, and then eight more up. I'd cased every bar from one end of the city to the other, eavesdropping, listening to gossip, asking questions. A good six out of ten had at least some comment to make about Breyer Street. Though the information within the area was often inconsistent, or hazy at best, it always had something to do with that street. I wasn't sure if that could help me, but there was nothing else for me to go on.
By Samuel Canerday7 years ago in Horror
A Red and White Striped Apron
Barbra Jennings was tiny. Still, having her beside you was like standing next to a giant. Her bright red hair was cut into a groomed pixie cut and combed to one side. Her chubby face, sharp-looking eyes squished into the back of the hollow sockets, and her mouth looking like it was permanently pointing downwards made up her somewhat ghastly appearance. Her figure could take up a double hallway. Her breasts hung down and hovered over her nonexistent waistline. The giant layered lump of her upper body led down to a pair of stick thin legs with tiny feet that seemed to struggle carrying the rest of her. Waddling like a penguin, the round, wobbly lump that defined Barbra made its way through doors and hallways. Seeing her crunched over a tray of pastries, one could easily imagine the weight of her chest tipping her over and her pointy, crooked nose slowly sinking into the warm custard. To the people coming in and out of the bakery, she grinned, laughed, made jokes and quite often slipped in a little something extra when handing over the pastry boxes. The business flourished, so she only gained by doing so. The satisfied smirk that dominated her puffy face when she left the counter was beyond any customer’s observation. Her ability to disguise herself this way was performed with bewildering mastery. It was truly fascinating to watch.
By Margit Fagerbekk7 years ago in Horror
Safe and Sound
Era sits in the center of a dark room, blindfolded by a scratchy dish towel with her hands tied behind her back. Her body is soaking wet from the current events of her most recent, unsuccessful escape. The bright blue party dress sticks uncomfortably to her undergarments underneath, one side of the bodice creeps lower to expose her right breast. Cleavage prominently on display... It was perfectly cliche the only source of light she could make out was a rusted lightbulb dangling from the ceiling in a small swaying motion. The vicinity was cold, smooth wood floors and metal walls. A bunker, no doubt. One where she had been dragged back and forth to for years. Her guard was compromised far too many times... and here where she was contained and abandoned, where she would recollect what brought her here in the first place: Her dreams. Tears started to soak the fabric where it covered her eyes, hearing the familiar footsteps of the man who brought her here. The man that kept her under lock and key. The inspiration that showered her with "protection" when she needed it the most. It became the biggest mistake of her life, considering it was all she had to her name. Her thoughts, her peace of mind... Controlled by safety.
By Nicole Buck7 years ago in Horror
The Midnight Train
The cigarette I was lighting almost fell from my lips when I caught a glimpse of the man standing a hundred feet away from me on the train platform. Turning my head to get a better look, the man was suddenly gone. After a minute or so he reappeared, only this time he was to my right and a few feet closer. I shook my head to clear my thoughts because there was no way this was the same man from 5 years ago. I had been working a lot lately, and fatigue was as good of an excuse as any other.
By Brent Daniels7 years ago in Horror
My Dreadful Story
Water drips... Three days and that's all I hear... Water drips. Depending on the time of day, I could barely see my surrounding with the glare that flies through the room. If I had any idea of what's going on in this situation I would be planning and acting on my next move, but I'm not ready. I don't know where I am, why I'm here or even how I got here... On top of it all, it's too dark. The only time I could get some decent light is when the old man walks in to bring me food and water. Why are they still keeping me alive? I can see the old man's fear and pity when he looks at me... As if somebody is forcing him to feed me.... Like an animal. I could knock the old man out and run out the door when he walks in again, but I don't know what's outside these walls... It seems too easy... But it's the only way. Is that what they want me to do? If I'm going to die, it's the only thing I can do.
By Joe Ocasio7 years ago in Horror
A Not So Normal Day
It was a normal morning. A coffee breakfast, chased with dry toast and orange juice, a shower, a shave and a bathroom break. All normal. Work out clothes on, an early morning jog and another shower after. See? All normal. Dressed for work and out the door on time. It was a five block walk to the office, and me in my pressed shirt and pants and nice shoes and a blue tie to offset the lack of color in the shirt, would be there in short time. By my watch, I had half an hour and I had never been late to work.
By A.J. Brown7 years ago in Horror