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.
A Dirge for the Prairie
Out on the high prairie on a brightly moonlit night, there's no sound more ominous than the sharp keen of the coyote's howl. The raspy shudder of a rattlesnake is a terrifying sound, but an experienced trailhand can push down his fears and deal with the danger - not so with the coyote song. Don't compare it to a wolf's howl, either. The song of the wolfpack is this strong and muscular wail, an intimidating sound that speaks to the beast's primitive need to stake out its territory. It is a fearsome sound, while the coyote song is a sound of sorrow. It is all dissonant and haunted and it calls out to the dead to rise and dance to its eerie tune, and if you’re in the wrong place when you hear it, that could be what comes next.
By Andrew Johnston6 years ago in Horror
Will and Aliyah
Moonlight split the clouds in a single ethereal beam, illuminating the girl by the railing. Her gaze was cast into the distant night, seeming to pierce the cloying fog and the roiling darkness of the water below. For an instant the boy saw it, not from his place in the shadows, but through the girl’s crystalline eyes. The dark was something to be commanded, not to be skirted around in fear. She was beautiful and terrifying. Not a glimmer of doubt pervaded the icy stillness of the girl’s expression; no tremor broke her predatory stance. The night was hers.
By Jeanie Mae6 years ago in Horror
The Clinging
Mr. Pitts didn’t know where it came from or how it came, but it was there suddenly in his what became his lonely life. It was visiting him constantly, and it always drew a dark scenario. It was like a rock holding him down making his steps heavier and heavier, prohibiting his progress, making his life into an unknown flight. A heavy cloud indeed, and it reeked of melancholy.
By Bazooka Teaches6 years ago in Horror
Till Death
Freija woke from her slumber and a smile curled at her lips. It had been a good night. She could feel Trevor’s warm, toned body pressed up against her, his arms wrapped cozily around her waist. She fit perfectly into him. It was a good feeling. A damn good feeling, she thought to herself, waking up in a man’s arms. She missed it tremendously. It had been almost 2 and a half years since she laid like this with a man.
By Linda Hippolyte6 years ago in Horror
A Box of Night
I never left Cairo with the division. Over the following three days, fourteen soldiers died of a mysterious ailment, two of them army photographers. The men were billeted in the desert at the edge of the city in a small village of tents. Many of them were conscripts, the “odds and sods” who had been called into service because of the great need for men. Out there, in the heat and the sand, they began to die without apparent illness or injury, in gruesome fashion. A man might climb into his bunk whole and hale and never wake again. The bodies of the dead were shriveled and papery, like husks. The eyes stared, bulging from their sockets, pupils blown to wide, dark windows. The jaws hung open in silent screams. They looked like nothing so much as mummies, except for their horrifying expressions. They were men staring into an unspeakable abyss.
By Liz Zimmers6 years ago in Horror
Can't You See the Sign?
Sign, sign, everywhere a sign. That line was his favourite. He preferred the Tesla version of the song, even though the original was written by a Canadian band. Being a Canadian himself, he had a fondness for homegrown music, but there was just something about Jeff Keith’s raspy voice that made him shiver inside. It was those feelings that drove him to be a musician in the first place, that and the killer rock 'n' roll lifestyle.
By Desmond James6 years ago in Horror
