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.
Just Another Thursday
The blood from the lamb’s cut throat flowed down Boyd’s hand. He tossed the lamb into the waterfall and walked back to his campfire. May as well tune the fiddle while I wait, he thought as he pulled out the fiddle that had been in his family for generations.
By Jamais Jochim12 months ago in Horror
Demon of the Dispensary
DEA Agent Elizabeth Derring strode carefully through the dispensary, seeing everything through the sights of her Glock 19. Her team had timed the raid perfectly; there were only a couple of employees in the building. The raid had gone well until about five minutes ago, when she had lost contact with the other three members of her team. She had tried to retreat but had gotten lost.
By Jamais Jochim12 months ago in Horror
The Vampire's Guide to Investing
Too many fresh kindred forget that being turned is just the beginning. They usually have no long-range plans beyond “serve the sire until he gets bored of you and then figure it out”; these neonates either get themselves killed serving their sire or become a meal for one of their elders. Therefore, these neonates need to create some sort of investment plan for their futures. Such a plan is not hard to set up.
By Jamais Jochim12 months ago in Horror
It's All Fun And Games Until The Wings Appear. Content Warning.
So there I’m naked and chained to this hard rubber table when I make this sudden realization. See, the night had begun relatively simple. I was on the hunt and looking for someone with a burning passion for something. Anything. That’s sort of my lifeblood.
By Jamais Jochim12 months ago in Horror
Steve Jobs Death: The Shocking 2011 Passing of Apple's Visionary CEO at Age 56
Steve Jobs Death: The Shocking 2011 Passing of Apple's Visionary CEO at Age 56 On October 5, 2011, the world stopped for a moment. Steve Jobs, the brilliant mind behind Apple, passed away at 56 from respiratory arrest tied to his long fight with cancer. News hit like a thunderbolt, shocking fans, leaders, and tech lovers everywhere. His death marked the end of a key figure in modern tech, but it also sparked talks about his huge role in shaping gadgets we use daily.
By Story silver book 12 months ago in Horror
Chapter 4: Hallowed Grounds. Content Warning.
January 17, 2598 | 4:58 a.m. Wednesday early morning Maidwick Woods, a section of the country that Andromeda Morganite has no sway over. Though she has attempted several times to take control of it. Just not recently from what I can see. There is not too much known about the woods, except it can and is often used as a safe haven for those who cannot find anywhere safe to go. That's a comforting thought. Plus, if it is where the quartet is hiding, that would make things easier. To put it elegantly, Maidwick is the biggest lead we've had in weeks. It all started with Mors remembering the words of a mad man. Except I do not think Valo is a mad man in the literal sense. I have my suspicions on whether or not Valo being captured was part of the plan all along. Between the traveling, research, talking, and resting between, I got to think long and hard about what Mors had stated alongside the what I found in the articles. Something wasn't adding up. These four were smart enough to know it was a trap. I realize that it could be a case that they wanted to save the bait, as it were. However, what if there is more to it? I find it hard to believe that Valo didn't know what Sorina is. In fact, I would be surprised if she hadn't told Noe and Lorcan as well. She was never one to hide that part of her with people she trusted. She was utterly too trusting. Then again, so was I once upon a time. That has changed. For her though? It could have been an asset. I have no solid proof, yet. However, it is possible that they planned a counter. What is better than capturing your enemy? Making them think you have been beaten. Using Sorina, they could easily have someone act as a dead body to be carried into the building. Valo being captured would give them another option of gathering intel on Morganite's organization. Of course the wounds would have not completely been part of the plan, but it might have been welcomed to really bring everything together. To make it seem as if their counter wasn't planned. Telling Mors about Maidwick would have been a tactic of gathering a formidable ally. Him having an invite is a good thing. Meaning they at least want to open up a conversation. Let's hope they are willing to speak with me as well. I am putting a lot of faith in Sorina's memory of me being her friend. That could backfire on me somehow. We will see in due time. The last time I wrote in this journal was eleven days ago. It is amazing how fast time can slip by when you are planning and researching to assist the future of mankind. Granted, it isn't all that had transpired. No. There is much more. In fact Mors is officially living in my apartment with Orion and Damaris Blackwell's blessing. Though I think they may start making me pay rent. For a while they said that payment in the form of protection was enough. I fear I am officially pushing my luck.
By Somniare Omnia12 months ago in Horror
The Lantern House
In the quiet countryside of Ohio, there stood an old wooden house at the end of a dirt road. Locals called it The Lantern House. No one lived there for more than fifty years, not since the Dawson family vanished one stormy night in 1974. People said that if you passed by after midnight, you could see a light moving inside, as if someone was still walking through the rooms with a lantern. In 1981, a man named Henry Collins bought the property. He was a retired postman who had always dreamed of living somewhere peaceful. He didn’t believe in ghost stories and thought the talk about the Lantern House was just small-town gossip. The first few weeks were quiet. Henry spent his days cleaning, fixing old doors, and repainting the porch. But every night, the same thing happened. Around midnight, he would hear soft footsteps in the hallway. Slow, steady, and heavy. He tried to tell himself it was just the house settling, or maybe a raccoon in the attic. But the sound was too clear. It sounded like boots. One night he decided to find out for himself. He sat in his chair with a lantern lit, waiting for the sound. When the old clock struck twelve, the air in the room turned cold. Then he heard it — step… step… step… coming from upstairs. He grabbed his lantern and climbed the creaking staircase. The sound grew louder until he reached the second-floor hallway. There were four doors. He opened the first one — empty. The second — empty. When he opened the third, the sound stopped. Inside was an old rocking chair, slowly moving on its own. Henry froze. He wanted to run, but his curiosity held him in place. The lantern’s flame flickered and dimmed. Then, from behind him, a whisper brushed against his ear. “Don’t sit in my chair.” He spun around, but there was no one. The next morning, he packed his bags and drove into town to ask about the Dawson family. An old woman at the diner told him their story. “George Dawson was a quiet man,” she said. “He worked the fields and kept to himself. But after his wife died, he changed. Folks say he started seeing shadows, talking to someone who wasn’t there. He carried a lantern every night, walking from room to room, saying he had to ‘keep her warm.’ Then one night, the light went out, and nobody ever saw him or his children again.” Henry returned to the house that evening, feeling uneasy. He decided he would leave in the morning. But that night, the storm came. The wind howled through the trees, and the windows rattled. Around midnight, the light in his lantern went out again. The air filled with the smell of smoke. Then he saw it — through the dark hallway, a faint orange glow moving toward him. It wasn’t fire. It was a lantern, swinging gently in the air, carried by someone unseen. Henry backed away as the light came closer. In the glow, he could make out a tall shadow of a man wearing an old coat and hat. The figure stopped just a few feet away. “Why are you here?” the voice asked. Henry couldn’t answer. The voice came again, deeper this time. “This house is not yours.” The lantern’s flame flared suddenly, lighting up the whole room. For just a second, Henry saw faces — a woman and two children behind the man, pale and silent, watching him with hollow eyes. Then the light went out completely. The next morning, the sheriff found Henry’s truck still in the driveway, but the house was empty. His tools, clothes, and food were all there, but there was no sign of him. Only his lantern, sitting on the kitchen table, still burning faintly. A few years later, a new family tried to move in. They lasted one night. The father claimed that just after midnight, someone knocked on their bedroom door and whispered, “It’s my turn to keep the light.” They left before sunrise and never came back. Today, the Lantern House still stands, leaning against time. Travelers say they sometimes see a warm light glowing through its windows late at night, swaying gently from room to room. No one knows if it’s the Dawson family, Henry Collins, or someone new trapped inside. But one thing is certain — the light never goes out.
By kashif khan12 months ago in Horror
The Japanese Curry Festival Massacre: The Woman Who Terrified Japan
In 1998 in Japan, specifically in a village there called Sonobay. Sonobay is an ordinary rural village and its people are simple and kind people. It is similar to the rural village that we have in Egypt. The important thing, sir, is that every year a festival is held in the village of Sonobay. A very large festival is held in a wide area and all the neighboring villages attend. They sit together all day and eat, drink and play. The children also play in the amusement park. And so on. In 1998, this festival was held in the village and all the people were gathered and things were fine and perfect, but in a moment everything changed. Suddenly the residents of the festival began to feel very tired.
By ahmed Rezik12 months ago in Horror
The Ghost in My Smart Home
It started with a flickering light. My smart home hub, a sleek orb named Aura, had been my lifeline since I moved into my Portland fixer-upper in early 2025. Single, 29, and drowning in student loans, I’d snagged the house cheap – a steal, the realtor swore, despite its creaky floors and rumors of a "tragic past." Aura controlled everything: lights, thermostat, locks, even my coffee maker. "Hey, Aura, set the vibe," I’d say, and it’d dim the LEDs to cozy, queue my lo-fi playlist, and brew a latte. I was living the millennial dream, or so I thought.
By Mogomotsi Moremi12 months ago in Horror
