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.
The Midnight Train
The cigarette I was lighting almost fell from my lips when I caught a glimpse of the man standing a hundred feet away from me on the train platform. Turning my head to get a better look, the man was suddenly gone. After a minute or so he reappeared, only this time he was to my right and a few feet closer. I shook my head to clear my thoughts because there was no way this was the same man from 5 years ago. I had been working a lot lately, and fatigue was as good of an excuse as any other.
By Brent Daniels8 years ago in Horror
My Dreadful Story
Water drips... Three days and that's all I hear... Water drips. Depending on the time of day, I could barely see my surrounding with the glare that flies through the room. If I had any idea of what's going on in this situation I would be planning and acting on my next move, but I'm not ready. I don't know where I am, why I'm here or even how I got here... On top of it all, it's too dark. The only time I could get some decent light is when the old man walks in to bring me food and water. Why are they still keeping me alive? I can see the old man's fear and pity when he looks at me... As if somebody is forcing him to feed me.... Like an animal. I could knock the old man out and run out the door when he walks in again, but I don't know what's outside these walls... It seems too easy... But it's the only way. Is that what they want me to do? If I'm going to die, it's the only thing I can do.
By Joe Ocasio8 years ago in Horror
A Not So Normal Day
It was a normal morning. A coffee breakfast, chased with dry toast and orange juice, a shower, a shave and a bathroom break. All normal. Work out clothes on, an early morning jog and another shower after. See? All normal. Dressed for work and out the door on time. It was a five block walk to the office, and me in my pressed shirt and pants and nice shoes and a blue tie to offset the lack of color in the shirt, would be there in short time. By my watch, I had half an hour and I had never been late to work.
By A.J. Brown8 years ago in Horror
Smell of Decay
The ranch house sat at the side of a hill surrounded by a forest for miles in each direction. It was small, humble, with only a room for both living and sleep, one for storing his books and valuables, and another split for food, laundry, and bathing. The creature that lived inside of the ranch house had no need of fire so there was never a smoke trail in the sky. On a slightly chilly night late in February, Vernon sat comfortably in his favorite chair and flipped the page of his book.
By William Hillson8 years ago in Horror
The Good Boy
Gerald Thompson was a large, burly, grizzled man with patches of red hair all atop his head. He was imposing, dangerous and no-nonsense. His work had often kept him busy. As a construction foreman, his ability to intimidate was the stuff of legend. He could scare the pants out of his subordinates with a glare. His long, twelve-hour shift led to at least, seven firings, a long phone battle with an order for sheetrock gave the company who was supposed to deliver the order more reason to delay the order. The day was so brutal that he jumped into his car and drove home without doing one very important thing. Pick up his seven-year-old son from his school.
By Carlos Gonzalez8 years ago in Horror
The Broken Window
Growing up on a council, the council estate had some very interesting aspects. One was the social bubble. As a child, I played within the confines of the local area, and so I didn't really see much else of different social class other than on the TV. The other was the steady stream of temporary friends from the two children's homes on the corners of Chelwood Close and Cuckmere Way.
By Colin J Davies8 years ago in Horror
The Nocturne Chamber Part 3
My head was pounding before I even opened my eyes that morning. After an informative, but ultimately fruitless, night at the bar, I had turned up nothing concrete with which to aid my investigation. I rolled out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom, blinking the sleep out of my eyes as I brushed my teeth. I thought back to the day I first heard about the Weeping Door.
By Samuel Canerday8 years ago in Horror
Let Us Be Friends
Olivia... Olivia Jones, a name I'd never forget. I am your average college girl. I guess you'd say I have quite the good amount of friends, but what does that matter... right? You would think that having an enormous group of friends, or your "circle" as we put it nowadays, would be somewhat important only in your entire high school career, but does it carry on? I guess I never did pay much attention to popularity or even the mere fact that I even had friends because I spent most of my time with my family either way.
By Yajaira Villanueva8 years ago in Horror
The Nocturne Chamber Part 2
A wispy frame emerged from the shadows of a dimly lit alley onto the main thoroughfare, occasional lights from passing cars illuminating the bustle of foot traffic on the sidewalk. The young man slipped between the crowds, walking in a manner that bespoke purpose. Every other step he pulled out his phone, glancing at it for a few moments before slipping it back into his jacket pocket. Throngs of people laughed and bellowed past, but his eyes remained fixed ahead, as if they were unable to see anything but what was relevant to their goal. He slipped down another side alley, unnoticed by so much as a single person.
By Samuel Canerday8 years ago in Horror
Item 1197: Overlook Diary
Foreward: These are the excerpts recorded in the 'Overlook Diary,' evidence #1197, which was excavated from the grounds of Mount Claypell Sanatorium, otherwise known as the Overlook. The following entries were discovered as they are read, neither tampered with nor redacted in any such way. Within these pages are various diary entries, historical citations, newspaper clippings, written-out interviews, and inpatient files later identified as prior Overlook patients. The contents of the diary were amassed, collated, documented, then organized throughout the year of 2004, during which time the string of multi-murders were taking place. These, and the other more classified evidenced documents surrounding the trial, will remain in Mount Claypell’s Everett Library, wherein they shall be kept hidden under lock and key. This diary, in addition to its author, serve as a reminder to the fragility of our minds and the many dark pathways through which this mental strain can drag us.
By galaxus imprum8 years ago in Horror
