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 Day I Left Them with Christie
“Oh, shoot!” I whisper-shout as I roll out of bed. “I’m late for work!” I quickly get ready for work and prepare breakfast for my two daughters, Amy and Chloe. The babysitter was supposed to arrive anytime now. As I was to take my first sip of my morning coffee, the doorbell rang. “It must be the new babysitter!” my daughters exclaimed together. The babysitter that we usually have over wasn’t available, for a long time actually, which was kind of strange. When I open up the door, a girl with a big smile and piercing blue eyes is right in front of me.
By Akira Aliberti8 years ago in Horror
Death Is Only the Beginning
I had never felt more alone than I did at that moment. I entered the forest, having the moon as my flashlight, in search of the truth. A cool wet breeze prickled down my spine, the air fogging over the deeper I walked into the woodland. The noises inside this home of many mysterious creatures can truly play with your mind. The rustling of trees, the wind whispering in your ear; a sound that makes your heart beat faster than you would think possible; a low voice that is warning you that death is coming for you. I walked more rapidly to find my destination. But something stopped me in my tracks. The cracking of a tree branch sounded like bones being ripped apart and then chewed upon by something… or someone. I looked around in every direction, and then I saw it. A dark shadow; misshapen in size and frame standing behind an oak tree, so tall seeming endless. Curiosity burned inside my veins. I reached out my hand, trembling in excitement and fear. Just as I was about to touch the deformed figure, it disappeared. I looked all around me and no one was in sight. I am alone once more. Alone as one can be here.
By Erin Perez8 years ago in Horror
Guilty
He killed my daughter. He killed her in cold blood and yet there he stood, free as the day it had happened. He was always in the same spot, never moving, or so it seemed to me, always there, as if taunting me. In the beginning, I tried to avoid him, I really did. I went out of my way, destroyed any connections to him, bloodied my own hands just to get away from him, but he always found me again, or maybe I found him. Sometimes I wasn’t really sure. I then realized that I needed to see him for when I didn’t see him, I would forget about her. When I saw him, he would be standing over her cold corpse. When I saw him, I felt the rage I had felt when I first saw what he had done. I wanted that rage, I needed that rage. How was I a father if I did not feel rage over her death, rage towards the one who killed her? When I did not see him, I forgot about this. I forgot about the rage, and about her. I guess that was my curse, to have those two horrible things connected. To want to forget his face, forget that he existed, but being unable to without forgetting her.
By Bekah Schofield8 years ago in Horror
Cognizance
"This just in," a newscaster says over the television. "Police have found the body of 25 year old Foster Newman, a resident of Joplin, Missouri, on Saturday evening. The young man was found in a brutal state. Along with the body was a printed note seemingly written by Foster himself. If you have any information regarding this case, please contact the Joplin Police Department."
By Julia Marie8 years ago in Horror
Masquerade
(A man in a dress shirt and dress pants. Dress shoes and a mask alone on stage covered in blood.) And yet they will never know. I will leave this world as I came unto it; covered in blood naked and shameful. For I hath killed mine own brother, in cold blooded pain and agony. Bludgeoned him with a mere figurine and strangled him with my bare hands. Watching his breath leave his body as his face turned blue and he wriggled beneath me. He was no match for the fire in my soul and the evil in mine eye. My eyes were black as night fueled by passion, as his eyes grew dull and lifeless and his body grew cold and stiff. (He shifts)
By Samantha Mirabal8 years ago in Horror
The Waste of All I Have Created
It was early morning in that time between late winter and early spring. The time when there is a chill in the air in the morning and the small hint of new buds on trees in the late afternoon. When it feels like time has paused for a moment to catch its breath before venturing on and creating new life. New expectations and new hope. This was the time that the man arrived in the city. He had traveled from a faraway place because he had heard great stories of how this place had once been. He came to see if any of that beauty was left. And if it had gone, where had it gone and was there hope for its return?
By Traci E. Langston8 years ago in Horror
The African Prince and the Mayan Princess (Part 15)
Part 15 What a freaking night. I mean damn.... First, we save Kendra Miller, which is awesome, because her parents were ready to accept that she may have been dead. It must be such a relief for parents when they discover that their child is still alive. Especially in this world nowadays. Once Carlina and I finally teleported back to the house, we immediately hand the stone over to Mona. The TV blared as we entered as the anchorman reported that no more casualties had ensued and that Houston police and fire departments had quelled most of the chaos in the South Houston area.
By Kenneth Davis8 years ago in Horror
