Top Stories
Stories in Horror that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
A Devil in the Making
Content Warning: This story contains scenes involving child birth and devil worship. Reader discretion is advised. This is an excerpt from the life of Sabrina the witch. If you have not read her story yet, this may be confusing. Her previous stories are The Witch of Strasbourg and A Trade.
Donna Fox (HKB)Published 10 months ago in HorrorHorror in the 90s: 'Troll 2'
Troll 2 (1990) Directed by Claudio Fragasso Written by Claudio Fragasso, Rossella Drudi Starring George Hardy, Michael Stephenson, Connie McFarland
Sean PatrickPublished 10 months ago in HorrorAmbsace
“Yo, Cyclops! Ed wanted to see you. He said it was urgent.” Ryan’s colleagues made it a point to remind him daily that he was visually impaired and he hated that! But today, it didn’t bother him as much as it usually would have.
Dharrsheena Raja SegarranPublished 10 months ago in HorrorPoor Girls With Broken Hearts
She opened the door to the wiles of his ways, Got lost inside, of his beautiful gaze. Her mama kept praying, this was only a phase,
Kelli Sheckler-AmsdenPublished 10 months ago in HorrorThe Golden Queen
Chapter 1 - Ruith Moup SpiderBait – Black Betty It’s December! There is darkness. A song plays, filling the empty southern sky with a ruthless beat.
Kelly SibleyPublished 10 months ago in HorrorTangled in Webs
We can all relate to the single truth that no one has a say in the circumstances into which they're born. No one's given the choice of the skin they wear or the name they inherit. Yet, ironically, we're all guilty of judging one another for those things. Might that be because we all secretly judge ourselves so harshly, and the only way to cope with our imperfections is to find them in others? Or can it be that we're all so envious, jealous, and covetous of one another, but are too afraid to admit these faults? Who knows? Does it really matter? It's a riddle we'll never be able to solve.
El Coco, El Cucuy: The Child Eater
Not long ago, I wrote about how bogeyman-like legends exist almost all over the world. It's stunning to know that nearly every culture on the planet has one. In many Spanish and Portuguese-speaking countries, there are tales of one of these, a mythical monster called El Coco (or El Cucuy). While some details vary from story to story, one thing seems consistent: El Coco eats children.
J.A. HernandezPublished 10 months ago in HorrorForgotten Woods
It was already night when I arrived. Storm was passed but the soil still showed the unequivocal signs of its strength. The leaves still carried a slim layer of water that reflected the subtle moonlight and bestowed upon the forest an otherworldly quality. There was no wind, everything was still and quiet. I didn’t notice that at first, we’re always busy paying attention to what we can perceive that we forget about what we’re missing. The forest was clearly unnatural, but, weary and irritable as I was, I just cared to be inside the cabin so I ignored every warning that waved in front of me.
Victor ChavarriaPublished 10 months ago in Horror- Second Place in Word Hunt Challenge
The Longest Night
The sun was setting in Tanglewood, and the forest trails were covered in a feathery dusting of snow. The trees were thick, but naked, except for the speckled evergreens, highlighting the death that winter brings. As Edgar prepared his horse for slumber, he sat uneasy, worried about what the night would share on this sacred evening.
Ashley LimaPublished 11 months ago in Horror The Doctor and the Dead Girl
We slip into this life unannounced, and we wander until the sands run out of our personal hourglass. We lose everyone we ever come into contact with, and then we just as mysteriously depart. And do we tread the floorboards once again, with different, subtler feet? Some believe we return. Some, that a troubled soul can never leave. At least, not without its duty rendered, its commission expired, its purpose fulfilled. Or, its torment ended.
Heeere's Trauma!
***Content Warning: Abuse*** The mirror showed a reflection that wasn't my own. I stood there, hair dripping, wrapped in a yellow striped towel, white-knuckling the cold ceramic sink. My reflection did the same, but still, something was off. My palms were all that supported my teetering balance as I leaned in and inspected the faux visage for its defining flaw.
Meagan DionPublished about a year ago in HorrorJoyride
*** Content Warning: Although humorous, this is a ghost story. Contains descriptions of after-death experiences. The aged leather of the barely-padded seat felt welcoming and familiar, or at least it would have, if he had any feeling in his spectral buttocks. Phil sighed, or would have, if anything existed in his translucent chest to hold the air it would require. The memories of his senses would have to suffice. His cold, unfeeling hands curled lovingly around the cracked bakelite rim of the narrow steering wheel.
Dana CrandellPublished 11 months ago in Horror