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.
Case
Presswick train station was old, far removed from the ones you'd see in the big cities today. The white paintwork on the platform walls was chipped and cracked, whilst the damp stench of the local sewer works lingered in the air. The station inhabited a town that looked like a lot of other small towns, though if you dug deep enough you would find a wealth of dark stories buried beneath. Stories of an evil surrounding the old cotton mill and the faces of the dead at the bottom of the local swimming baths. These are the tales that were passed down from parents to their children without hard evidence and truth. You'd be forgiven for thinking the worse of the town that it inhabited. After all, this was a place that had seen better and busier times, before the days of industry and holiday makers disappeared and people discovered more exciting climates. You'd find no designer clothes shops or coffee houses here. This was a place that people used in order to vacate the town for work and brighter places. No-one came to this place unless it was absolutely necessary and in spite of social media and all those town summer campaigns, it had been a long time since anyone had made the decision to holiday in a place such as this.
By Adam Blaize7 years ago in Horror
The House on 24 Street
Midnight. Thick dusky moonlight bleached the strictly white cracked dirtied walls. George stood there, his yellow trench coat, a mucky darkened colour, hung from his small arms like a man who had committed suicide, but hadn't struggled to fight against it. He was tired at this point; tired of running. The very thing its self seemed to be something he craved the most. Tired... A single drip could be heard in the far distance, however George seemed to feel it was a faint voice laughing at him, playing with him. Drip... His eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room, George softly hummed a song his Mother used to sing when he couldn't sleep as a kid. It was a song he couldn't remember the first time he heard it, had just always been there, always resting in his mind. Always...
By Horror Shorts By William Skeet7 years ago in Horror
I Made a Wrong Turn
Fresh, cool air fills your lungs as you trek through the seemingly never ending expanse of brown and green. The warm sunlight filters through the leaves on the various massive trees surrounding you and the sweet, earthy scent of decay and plant life pleasantly tingles your senses. The river nearby rushes past like cars on the freeway, yet it's subtle, calming sound puts you at ease. Birds sing high up in the treetops and the chatter of squirrels can be heard as your feet lead you to a destination only your heart knows.
By Nova R Nyx 7 years ago in Horror
Help (Part 1)
An ending seems so far away, until it happens. Regret? Remorse? Reflection. Memories of happier times, broken hearts, and tears of laughter. Memories of growing up. Mum and Dad how they should be. How a family should be, and what it was like growing up. You were happy, young, and free. Fond memories of weekends away with your parents in a tiny caravan in the middle of nowhere, dreading getting a shower because of all the creepy crawlies lurking in the corners of the communal bathrooms. Watching the news at 6 o'clock with your mum and dad next to you to keep you secure and warm. Excited for the next day just to see them again.
By Josh Swales7 years ago in Horror
Night Shift
The echo of her four--inch stilettos bounced from wall to wall in the dark corridor, the musky smell of damp trying to overpower her liberal spray of Chanel perfume, her crisp white lab coat displaying her name in blood red embroidery on the left breast pocket. She pushes hard on the double doors and blinks in the bright florescent light shining overhead in the hospital basement. She stops to take in the sight in front of her, ten standard hospital beds all lined up against the far wall looking like white marble dominoes laid flat. The room was an average size operating theatre and held all the equipment you would expect in such. She got to work reading each file slowly to ensure she had all the information needed. Each bed held a male ranging in age from 18 up to 70 and they all looked petrified, as most patients do in hospitals.
By Michelle Bridges7 years ago in Horror
Cavity
Her fingernails scrape my thighs as she tries to hold herself up, hooking her fingers to my leg for support. A guttural moan slips out; drawn as she arches her back, eliciting a chorus of ear splitting pops and cracks the further she goes. With a free hand she grips her jaw, moaning and screeching as she continues to twist and turn, disregarding her breaking bones as she does so. I consider kneeling down, and maybe trying to un-twist her myself; but instead I just watch as she writhes on the floor, my friend cradles her crooked head and neck.
By Aleixa Gagnon7 years ago in Horror
Camille
I only come out when the sun goes to sleep; that's when dark and mysterious things happen. I've seen many things. I'm as old as the Earth itself, for I was created at the same time as our planet. I see the night, and I watch everything ominous. Such was last night.
By Brandi Espy7 years ago in Horror
Flashes
I got in the shower, letting the hot water wash over me. Looking down I saw blood; it covered the floor. It looked as though it was clogging the drain, I closed my eyes trying to unclog it, but all I wanted to do is gag at the metallic, copper smell. I finally opened my eyes to dry and the water was clear. I turned the water off hesitantly watching the water drip from the tap.
By Tara Harrison7 years ago in Horror
Born to Die
The lights in the city began to set to a dim glow, as though they were the eyes of God beginning to close after the long day of watching over civilians in the city of New York. It was as though the night was a symbolization of the last visitation. That night was the end of the relationship of a woman, a beautiful woman, named Candice. The only way I could describe her complexion as a woman that men would best describe as beautiful and extravagant, with hair that reached an exquisite length, passed her shoulders, with a tone of Autumn and eyes that are like a brown pool of melted chocolate that twinkle in the sun and moonlight. Candice always wore amazing white dresses that represented her purity and class, as well as her bright white smile. She’s beautiful, and unfortunately, I had to leave her on the day of February that resembles intimacy and affection between passionate couples and married individuals. It was valentine's day, and due to the circumstances of my career life stood in the way of our burning love and devotion; I had to leave her. Our love was like butterflies crawling against the skin every single time our lips touched. That day, as I broke it to her, she took it as a kiss that impaled her heart with a look of shocked melancholy. She gazed at me with such confusion, and despair. She barely was able to stutter the words the words, “Steve, you’re leaving me on Valentine's day?”
By harold hart7 years ago in Horror