Horror

Elf Doll. Content Warning.
An Elf doll sat on the sofa. He wore a green outfit. His big blue eyes shone like wet marbles. In walked Stephanie. She noticed the doll on the sofa and called out to her husband.
By DJ Robbins28 days ago in Fiction
The Ritual
Every night at nine, Mara set the second place. She did it even when she ate standing at the counter, even when the sink was full and the radio was still murmuring to itself. She took the blue plate from the cupboard—the one with the chipped rim—and set it across from her. She folded the napkin into a neat rectangle. She put the fork on the left, the knife on the right, blade facing in, as if someone had taught her manners she was determined not to forget.
By Nina Pierce28 days ago in Fiction
How to Keep the House Quiet After 11:47 PM. Winner in Instructions Included Challenge.
*Document revised November 1, 1887, after nursery incident **Document revised December 26th, 1946, after Christmas party
By Steph Marie28 days ago in Fiction
The Job That Only Exists at Night
The job posting appeared at exactly 12:07 a.m. No company logo. No address. Just a plain block of text glowing on my phone screen like it had been waiting for me.
By Waqid Ali 28 days ago in Fiction
The Red Thing in the Woods
"Richard! Richard? Wake up!" Richard awoke, feeling a mix of anger and annoyance course through him. He opened his eyes slowly, his vision struggling to adjust in the dark. A familiar figure stood over him, one that he was starting to regret inviting into his home.
By Emy Quinn28 days ago in Fiction
The New Born Sun
PART 2 Everyone on Earth dreamed the same dream. That was the first sign something had gone wrong with the sun. Not an explosion. Not a flare. Just a hesitation—brief, deliberate—like a breath held too long. Astronomers noticed it in the data before anyone felt it in their bones, but by the time we woke up, the knowing was already there. The sun had paused. And whatever it was waiting for, it was looking at us.
By Solaryn28 days ago in Fiction
Love's Circumstances
Gargoyles were always her favorite and she brought three of hers from home to college. They sat prominently on her desk in her off-campus apartment. This bright March morning, Susan walked across the quad and headed for the student union. Wilmont College was a beautiful place with a beautiful campus. Student union, library, class buildings and administration buildings all built with Gothic architectural influence. She had loved it when she first arrived here for her freshman year and after she had met Dennis, it was paradise. She joked about love at first sight with him, but truly believed that was what happened. “Hey Susan,” Jason yelled at her as he ran to catch up. “Hold your horses. Going to breakfast?” he asked. Susan tried not to let Jason see the tears in her eyes. “I’ll go with you if that’s ok.” Jason was hoping Susan was nearing the capacity to move on with her life and could he continue to be a friend?
By Barbara Gode Wiles28 days ago in Fiction
The Mediation, Friday, November 9th, 2012
Anton sat at the large oak table in the mediation services office. He had already been there for twenty minutes. He was fifteen minutes early and eager to get this over with. He already knew that she wasn’t going to agree to anything. If Karin thought he killed it at the first court date, wait until she sees what’s about happen here.
By Anton Mathias Heft 28 days ago in Fiction
A Deadly Chase in the Forest. AI-Generated.
The forest was divided into two very different worlds. On one side, tall green trees stood close together, their leaves forming a thick roof that blocked much of the sunlight. Birds moved quietly between branches, and the air smelled fresh and alive. On the other side, the land was dry and cracked, covered with dust and broken branches. The trees there were fewer, and the ground looked tired, as if it had not seen rain for a very long time.
By Bilal Mohammadi29 days ago in Fiction
Table for One. Runner-Up in Instructions Included Challenge. Top Story - January 2026.
Stage One First, you must make your significant other feel comfortable in their surroundings. Ensure you show them respect, make them their favourite meals, listen to their stories and respond appropriately to them.
By Sam H Arnold29 days ago in Fiction
Seven Miles
Seven Miles He opened his eyes and through the slit of his helmet he saw only a wet darkness. Soaking damp black that suffocated him, he gasped again and again and began to sweat as he lifted his body under the weight of his metal shell and lay against the stone. The skittering cry of a rat whispered from the shadow. The knight outstretched his arm and the metal felt cold as he stomped through pitch black hallways and empty chambers that smelled of death. A light barely discernible shimmered almost completely in the knight’s mind. It gained form as the knight was drawn to it, brighter, realer. It pulsed and breathed against the suffocating black around it. A centimeter’s thick beam of moonlight coming through a hole in the stone. It pierced the black and illuminated an empty barrel in the corridor. The knight stumbled towards that beam, shoved the shell on his head up to the hole and could see only the moon. His face wet with sweat and tears and dirt, he clawed at the stone, widened the hole. Dust and rocks clouded through the slit into his helmet and he let out a cough that echoed and broke the silence in that place so completely that it felt as if every stone might collapse. The hole was large now. The hole was larger an hour later. The knight’s fingers bled from their metal casings. The knight crawled and squirmed his way through that hole and fell four feet into freezing mud. The moonlight was blinding and his breath whisped out of his helmet in front of his face. The knight sat on his knees in the mud. In front of him lay a silent clearing, a field walled by ancient trees hundreds of feet away. Little pinpricks, needles, stuck up from the grass and peppered the horizon like the silhouette of a porcupine’s back. Every line was an arrow standing straight toward the sky, held up by the gut of its own dead man. That moonlit graveyard pulsed with an iron scent, the fragrance of death. The knight whispered to himself the lord’s prayer and laid his head down toward the ground.
By Jonah29 days ago in Fiction
How to Care for the Thing Growing in the Basement
Introduction: If you are reading this, the thing has already begun. This guide exists because no one told you what to do the first time. Because you were handed keys and a warning that sounded like a joke. Because someone said, It’s nothing, really, and then changed the subject.
By Aspen Noble29 days ago in Fiction