Latest Stories
Most recently published stories 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
How Horror Helped Me Face Myself. Top Story - November 2017.
The second you tell someone you’re a horror fan usually either one of two things will happen: They’ll light up and say “me too!” They’ll give you a weird look that says “oh you’re one of THOSE people.”
By Spencer Westberg8 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
A Trip to Sweetwater Mansion
As a beginning writer, I’m nervous on every assignment. The field work. The word count. The interviews. The deadlines. Actually writing and trying to write well. Writing six sentence fragments in a row and choosing to leave them there. It’s all stressful. But none of that comes close to the apprehension and unquantifiable terror that I felt with Robert Simone and his band of southern ghost hunters at Sweetwater Mansion in Florence, Alabama. Robert’s crew is called GHOST, an unmatched acronym that abbreviates Ghost Hunters of Southern Territories.
By Wesley Hopkins8 years ago in Horror
Monophobia
"Monophobia is the extreme or abnormal fear of being alone. Many people, as well as animals, are known to suffer from monophobia and it is not an easy fear to overcome. Monophobia is also known by other names such as Isolaphobia or Autophobia." —www.fearof.net
By Harry Riach8 years ago in Horror
A Stranger's Lie
I could feel the anger in his stare. His cold, emotionless expression. The wind sweeping through the windows. The curtain swaying slightly. I sit dead still, trying not to make even a slight movement that could provoke him. I didn’t know who I was anymore. I’m an object. A possession.
By Keeley Bewick8 years ago in Horror
The Nocturne Chamber
I entered the bar late, late enough that the crowds had thinned out and only the stragglers remained. The speakers were droning some barely intelligible music, which was just loud enough to drown out the murmurs of the patrons there. Taking a seat at the bar next to a grizzled old man nursing a drink, I ordered a shot of whiskey and gulped it down, surveying the bar as my eyes watered from the sting. There were two other groups of people, two men at a table in the corner, and a man and woman in a booth on the side. Then there was the man next to me. He was the man I had come for, though he did not know it. I ordered another drink, and ordered another round for the man as well. He looked at me with surprise, and I raised my shot in a toast.
By Samuel Canerday8 years ago in Horror
