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.
Toledo BETA
My name is Karley. I’m 22 years old. And I don’t know what the fuck am I doing for the last while. I’ve been in this god-forsaken city for the last twenty-seven days. To state the obvious, this is not the Toledo that I know anymore. The city I knew was more robust. It had people. Businesses were thriving per the norm, cars driving down the roads. You know, alive.
By Quinton Thomas7 years ago in Horror
Extra Sauce
"Malls are great places to shop," she said. "You can find everything you need under one roof." Tanya remembered that day like it was yesterday, walking around the gargantuan building stuffed with expensive and recognizable name brand stores that just never seemed to end. She was about six at the time, still holding her mother's hand unashamed and unwilling to let go. Despite her mother's great fascination and outright joy about shopping malls, the brunette was incredibly uneasy about going to them. All of these strangers around her, carrying those big bags; it just left the little girl with an uneasy stomach.
By Klyde Khalil Walker7 years ago in Horror
Dream Sequence Drafts
Hey guys, I like to dabble in writing, but like most writers out there, don't expect it to go further than my laptop screen/diary pages. I just want to put some dream sequences on here to see what people think I guess. They are out of context, the context being the rest of a 40,000 personal project, still unfinished. If there is a way to let me know what you think, please let me know. Also, bear in mind this is still a first draft, like I haven't even gone back over it and edited anything so even if they are words saying how crap it is, be gentle.
By Ellys Perry7 years ago in Horror
She Saved Ryan Denning
It was 2 AM and the moonlight poured through the window pane, highlighting the pale sleeping face of Ryan Denning. He breathed slow, his bony diaphragm moving to the beat of his steady pulse. His bedroom door creaked open at a snail's pace. Ryan was submerged in the darkness of his slumber for he could not dream.
By Kourtney Risher7 years ago in Horror
Mystery in the Meadow
Late afternoon bells rang in the air, stinging the summer heat and combatting the screams of children, running along streets and paths, dancing away from the school building and all the way to their homes. Summer vacation always excited the children in such a way, causing a fuss of car horns angrily screaming as the children skipped through the streets with little care; school was out, summer began, little else mattered in their little world. Little else existed besides fun and pools, no homework and laziness for a whole few months before the torturous routine begun again.
By Jenny Lynn7 years ago in Horror
Dark
She turned her head to the left and peered behind. It was dark. She couldn't see him but she knew he was there. Her face forward, she began to walk a bit quicker. Her steps light on the cobblestones. She wanted to run. Maybe even scream. She knew there was no way she could outrun him, and to scream seemed pathetic at best, seeing as she was far from town and not a house to be seen. Oh why had she taken this path home? There were other safer routes, well-lit ways home, but she was sometimes at the worse of times foolish.
By Edwina A. Lewis7 years ago in Horror
Message in a Bottle
L’Ollonais was born a whisper that thundered up to a roar. At first a name, a rumour, a blemish in the gutters of Port Royal. Tales told by those returning from isles as near as Tortuga and further afield. Men who recalled witnessing crews of Spaniards jumping from their sloops to certain death to escape his merciless clasp. “The Flail of the Spaniards” was the whisper as that privateer gained a legacy.
By Liam Wisker7 years ago in Horror
Who Is Peter England? (Pt. 2)
The day I met him felt no different than any other. My parents had already left for their business trip, so I made myself breakfast, got myself ready and left for school. I walked my normal route, all 17 minutes of it, lined up for class, it was all routine. Yet still, this was my most fateful day to come. The day I met my maker. He was this little blond kid, with blue eyes and perfectly groomed, straight hair. With his slight build, very non-threatening, he had this gentle look about him, dangerously disarming. He had a way with words, always so polite and so very charming. You could say he was that kid that adults loved. Teachers adored him, as did the students. He always smelled.... what was it again? Like maple oatmeal. Not to say that that's why people liked him, but it added to his image.
By Storm Harper7 years ago in Horror