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.
She Saved Ryan Denning
It was 2 AM and the moonlight poured through the window pane, highlighting the pale sleeping face of Ryan Denning. He breathed slow, his bony diaphragm moving to the beat of his steady pulse. His bedroom door creaked open at a snail's pace. Ryan was submerged in the darkness of his slumber for he could not dream.
Kourtney RisherPublished 7 years ago in HorrorMystery in the Meadow
Late afternoon bells rang in the air, stinging the summer heat and combatting the screams of children, running along streets and paths, dancing away from the school building and all the way to their homes. Summer vacation always excited the children in such a way, causing a fuss of car horns angrily screaming as the children skipped through the streets with little care; school was out, summer began, little else mattered in their little world. Little else existed besides fun and pools, no homework and laziness for a whole few months before the torturous routine begun again.
Jenny LynnPublished 7 years ago in HorrorElf on The Shelf Pt. 2
With one box packed, I exited the room and went to the old kitchen with creaking floorboards and broken cupboards. “Dad!” I shouted when I saw him unpacking his candles. I had always thought that Poppa was the one who fancied them.
Alyssa GammellPublished 7 years ago in HorrorDark
She turned her head to the left and peered behind. It was dark. She couldn't see him but she knew he was there. Her face forward, she began to walk a bit quicker. Her steps light on the cobblestones. She wanted to run. Maybe even scream. She knew there was no way she could outrun him, and to scream seemed pathetic at best, seeing as she was far from town and not a house to be seen. Oh why had she taken this path home? There were other safer routes, well-lit ways home, but she was sometimes at the worse of times foolish.
Edwina A. LewisPublished 7 years ago in HorrorMessage in a Bottle
L’Ollonais was born a whisper that thundered up to a roar. At first a name, a rumour, a blemish in the gutters of Port Royal. Tales told by those returning from isles as near as Tortuga and further afield. Men who recalled witnessing crews of Spaniards jumping from their sloops to certain death to escape his merciless clasp. “The Flail of the Spaniards” was the whisper as that privateer gained a legacy.
Liam WiskerPublished 7 years ago in HorrorWho Is Peter England? (Pt. 2)
The day I met him felt no different than any other. My parents had already left for their business trip, so I made myself breakfast, got myself ready and left for school. I walked my normal route, all 17 minutes of it, lined up for class, it was all routine. Yet still, this was my most fateful day to come. The day I met my maker. He was this little blond kid, with blue eyes and perfectly groomed, straight hair. With his slight build, very non-threatening, he had this gentle look about him, dangerously disarming. He had a way with words, always so polite and so very charming. You could say he was that kid that adults loved. Teachers adored him, as did the students. He always smelled.... what was it again? Like maple oatmeal. Not to say that that's why people liked him, but it added to his image.
Storm HarperPublished 7 years ago in HorrorWho Is Peter England?
Hello. I won't tell you my name, because that is of little importance. It gives no… substance to this story. I will, however, tell you how I became what I am today. I’ll tell you just how it happened.
Storm HarperPublished 7 years ago in HorrorEyemun
Mom and Dad tucked me in for the night. I laid awake listening to the radio coming from the other room reporting a tornado coming.
Kyle ShamburgPublished 7 years ago in HorrorNot this House
It was a joke! It was just supposed to be a joke! Get in, scare the freak, get out! What's happening? Why is this happening?!
Sleep Attacks
For as long as I can remember I have had bad night experiences. My name is Asher and I’m writing these experiences down before I lose the memory holding them. The earliest experience I can remember was when I was three years old living in Kansas. I was sound asleep in my pastel blue room with my Scooby-Doo night light by the door. The little three-year-old me was all snuggled under a fish covered blanket. I don’t remember what exactly woke me from my dream, but I remember the man at my door. His shoulders were wide, and he resembled a shadow. The pure fear that flooded over me and the vulnerability I felt when I tried to move and scream but couldn’t. I felt hopeless and every night he’d get closer. The panic I felt seemed to increase each night that he would move closer. I’d always close my eyes and just wait until the sun would peek into my room.
Alyce CranePublished 7 years ago in HorrorThe Night Time Man
It’s a stormy night in the south of Texas around 9 PM. Candice, 10, and her mother Darlene, 28, lay on the couch watching television in their small trailer.
Brandy AustinPublished 7 years ago in HorrorHaunting
“I’m telling you, horror movies just aren’t scary anymore!” I say, giggling as we walk in through the door. “Come on, you can’t tell me that there weren’t a couple jump scares in there that got you.” My friend Lizzy argues. “I know for a fact I felt you jump.”
Shera PraguePublished 7 years ago in Horror