slasher

Don't open that door! Psycho made slasher films a hallmark of the horror genre; explore iconic hackers, slashers, and chainsaw-wielding psychopaths, from the safety of your living room.

Which Film Swallows Your Soul? Comparing 'The Evil Dead' to 'Evil Dead II'
Sam Raimi first introduced us to the Necronomicon and the Deadites with The Evil Dead back in 1981. Starring pop culture icon Bruce Campbell at the ripe age of 23, the story about five friends being confronted with an ancient evil eventually rose to become a cult classic and is beloved by horror fans everywhere. The film features impressive practical effects for an independent film and it has a rather scary premise when you sit down and think about it. I mean, a story that includes being assaulted by trees if you try to leave the woods is very unsettling. While we see Ash rise to the role of the lone survivor and hero, he isn't really the Ash that we recognize and love today. In this adaptation, he is a rather sensitive young man struggling to save his friends and destroy the evil that has manifested itself into his sister.
By Jenika Enoch4 years ago in Horror
The Best Haunted House
Halloween is my favorite holiday. I just love the thrills, chills, scares, and everything else that goes with Halloween. Aside from dressing up, my favorite part is the haunted houses. My friends on the other hand are classic mindless sheep, scared of damn near everything. For weeks, I’d been trying to convince my friends to go to the best haunted house with me. Finally, on Halloween night, they agreed to make the two-hour drive into another state to entertain my need for fear. The drive sucked for two reasons. One, all they kept doing was try to convince me to go to the bar, and two, they brought along this single guy in attempt to set us up. He was cute but every time, they tried to do this, the guy usually left because I was too weird.
By K. E. Thomas4 years ago in Horror
Journal of Jack The Ripper
August 31st, 1888; I know I might appear as a mad woman my dear journal, but I am not. My father was a doctor and during the beginning of my childhood, he would show me the beauty of the art of medicine. He was a man of ideas and great beliefs. His heart was of gold and he helped the poor as much as he could do so. My uncle had always frowned upon this, he was disgusted by the lower class. It was from him that I learned to hate. It was from him I learned the satisfaction of killing. My bitterness started when a man from the slums came in demanding tonics from my father. You could tell the man was strung out, and hoping to get a thrill. It was like the devil himself came to see us when he pulled out that knife and grabbed me by my hair. “Now, or the girl gets it!” His knife pressed against my throat allowing my smallest drips of blood drop down. My father tried to calm the man and begged him not to hurt me, coming closer to the man with each step. “That’s too close!”, he scraped across my throat and face within seconds as he flung me aside leaping forward with his blade. I could see my father lay on the floor bleeding out, my body shook while I clung my neck and face with my hands. Drenched in blood. The man started filling a sack with anything he could place his hands on until the bell above the door dinged and my uncle walked in. With a flash of his hand the man fell to the ground. My uncle dropped his gun and ran over to me, and started shouting for help. “Is he dead?’ I whispered through tears and blood,’Yes.” my heart had felt happy knowing the man was dead. “Good.” Years have passed, and I continued my fathers study of medicines. I wanted more though, and even with my wits and skill, nowhere would take me. This was part of the pain of being a woman. My uncle however showed me the skills of death, so that my body would never know a scar like the one etched across my face, ohw so many years ago. It became apparent I would never be able to continue my research of the human body without obtaining a corpse myself. It did not matter my uncle's place in politics, or the strings he would try to pull to allow me to carry on my fathers ideas, it was believed men were only suited to this line of work. “Why not just be a nurse?”, they’d ask. The nerve of them, my skill was not going to waste away galloping behind men. I wanted to be a doctor, and the best one at that. This, my dears is what led me to this. Looking upon the slums of the city, the hatred in me grew. It was their fault my father was dead, their fault I came to this position in life, and well when life gives you lemons, you must make lemonade. I had to be smart though and use my wits about this, a woman such as myself would easily stand out, but a man would not. I prepared the perfect disguise, and of course night time would be the best time. I needed a pattern to follow, which easily enough boats docked every Thursday and Friday. They’d depart on Saturdays, or Sundays. Amongst these ships are butchers and workers, one of them could easily be blamed if things get too heated. I needed victims that would not be missed, and could easily be drawn away from the public's eye into more secluded areas without suspicion. My first victim had soft skin, she was a prostitute and easily led away when i flashed money to her. I didn't even need to say a word, it was so easy! I thought I would get sick the first time but I didn’t! I watched as she led before me down an alley, then at the most perfect moment I stepped forward and grabbed her from behind. She giggled for a moment, I suppose she believed I was just “ready to go” as you would call it. Ohw, how it changed with the first cut, then the second I watched her try to step away, tears streaming down her cheeks as she gurgled upon her own blood. I couldn't help but smile, I mean can you blame me? I had to make it look like a killer for blood and draw the attention away from the views of a surgical matter. I stabbed her, and cut her in so many ways angels would even blush. I then began to make my cuts along her abdomen to begin my examination. I was ever so close, until I heard footsteps coming towards me. I had to disappear. My uncle caught me coming in. He looked upon my trench coat and grinned. We spoke for many hours, he was very proud and had some ideas about how to further my examinations. He has proclaimed to get me the proper surgical knives, and obtain jars to keep specimens in. He believes my work will do great towards his fellow club of men, and will inspire the world. Until next time my dear journal, for it is time I rest and plan my next move.
By Erica Rose4 years ago in Horror
Frozen Asylum
"Man my nose is frozen!" Dad yelled as soon as he got out of the car, stretching his arms in the air. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" my mom's voice was quiet. She didn't want to ruin our first family vacation in years, but also didn't know if this was another one of dad's grand ideas, that never seemed to work out. Dad yelled back with a school boy's excitement "Are you kidding!! This is going to be a blast!"
By Joy 4 years ago in Horror
Birthday Surprise
The friends drove through miles of empty fields. It had been more than twenty miles since they last saw civilization. The old, dusty, green VW bus jostled to a stop at the end of the dirt driveway. The sun was setting behind the three story, hundred year old house and the mist was beginning to spread over the fields. The image was eerie enough to scare two of the six occupants of the bus.
By Marchele M Banks5 years ago in Horror
A Night to Remember
The warm, sweet smell perfumed the air as Whitney pulled the hot pan from the oven, her hands armored with mitts (and face gleaming with pride) as she smiled down at her mud-brown masterpiece. Already on her second glass of pinot noir, she floated over to the shiny marble kitchen island to set the tray down for cooling. She shut the oven and opened the fridge to extract opaque, gritty goodness. German chocolate cake would be nothing without its creamy coconut companion. This was the perfect ending to a relaxing evening after a murderous work week.
By kalyn cherise5 years ago in Horror
MARY WANTS TO BURY
PART I I remember Tommy Baker and his two goons, Gilbert and Danny Iverson, pounding the shit out of me for being a nerd. If you were there you would have seen this nine year old girl with glasses and braided pigtails by the monkey bars being pulled, kicked, and spit on by these little creeps. What I remember most about that day was Jeffery Lake. He was the boy that came to my rescue. He grabbed a brick nearby to bash against the side of Tommy’s head while the others ran away. He bent down to check on me, and the moment our eyes met I knew instantly that we were meant to be together. There were other times he noticed me when I wasn’t getting my ass kicked. Then there were times he didn’t, which honestly I could forgive. The only thing I couldn’t forgive was the pain my poor Jeff went through all those years… or the jealous forces determined to keep us apart.
By Nick Lee5 years ago in Horror
Our Baby
Our Baby My wife’s face glowed from the moment she became pregnant. I swear she had become younger - or fresher. There was something divine about her aura. Perhaps it was the way she stood with her shoulders back and her head held high. When she held her belly, every pore on her face glistened love.
By Steve Barnett5 years ago in Horror
Death By Chocolate
Death by Chocolate By Joshua Wheelon Chris sat in the break room of the bakery. She was shaking profusely and even sweating a little bit. She had seen the dream a thousand times. Nightmare actually. Where she was murdered by a mysterious hooded figure. The dream was so blurry that she did not know how he murdered her, just that the scene was the same every single time, her lying dead in a pool of chocolate. Of her two jobs, this one was the place she would have a more likely chance of getting murdered. She gazed around the old break room which had one long table and a counter with a sink and a coffee maker. An old cupboard above with one of the doors open half an inch. Between the sink and against the door was a large garbage can that was half full and a broom sat next to the can. She then heard the footsteps of her boss coming towards the break area.
By Joshua Wheelon5 years ago in Horror
The Park
The town of Fairflower was not known for exciting events, at least not until this past year. And exciting might be the wrong word. Dark, twisted, nightmarish events is a much more accurate description of the things that began happening last June. It was possibly the most boring and cliché small town ever to exist. Two small restaurants, a coffee shop and a grocery store made up the entirety of main street as well as a park that was basically just a neglected patch of grass with a picnic table next to a rusty jungle gym. All the yellow police tape made it even more uninviting.
By Olivia Friesen5 years ago in Horror
LASSITER MASSACRE
He was psyched to finally be at the Old Lassiter Massacre barn in Bear Claw, South Carolina . Ryan had been a paranormal investigator for twenty years. After being tormented by an evil spirit as a younger child, he never wanted to feel that fear again. His parent’s were afraid that he might be a little too fearless and open a box he couldn’t close. The Lassiter Massacre barn carried a lot of pain. Purchased by Abigail and Ulysses Lassiter in 1675, the barn was a torture chamber. They owned many slaves, and they were well respected in their community. Slaves would be tortured and experimented on. There is a story of a slave woman by the name of Mattie. She had her unborn baby ripped from her womb. Her spirit is said to haunt the property. A neighbor reported a description of an apparition that resembled Mattie running towards the cherry tree by the barn. loud screams were reported coming from the barn. No one had been in the barn for at least twenty years. The last person to enter the barn went by the name Henry Riesen. The story is that Henry wanted to visit the location out of curiosity. When he returned home he was possessed and tried to kill his wife and children. His wife was courageous enough to grab their children and run next door to call the police. Henry was placed in a psychiatric ward.
By Brittany Fuller5 years ago in Horror
𝑆𝑎𝑚ℎ𝑎𝑖𝑛
The end of summer, let us begin so when I finish this story hopefully you would all take my advice and not live for this world, rather live in the path of righteousness. It was Saturday, Halloween night I woke out of what seemed like a nightmare, I crawled out of my bed to head downstairs for a glass of water. Before I go any further, I was a farm boy growing up in Derry, New Hampshire the town often had eerie occurrences consisting of kidnapping of children, to young woman being sex trafficked over into the next cities strip club. I was told in class during the third period that it was the 666th year of Halloween, it did not mean much to me because I would normally be the butt of jokes at my high school. From getting stuffed in lockers, to getting my head dunked in toilet water filled with feces, you named it I would be the one to receive it. Though those would not be my worries any longer, as I made my way to pour myself a glass of water, I heard tapping along the floorboards, I followed the taps along the floor making my way outside in my backyard. I looked upon the open space to see only broken glass, I know it was from my father drinking all that moonshine my uncle made for him, though it was a bottle of glass that shattered into pieces, I would be fully aware. No, the tapping kept on going and it was not coming from the floorboards, it was coming straight out of the old barn. The barn has been handed down to us from many generations of the Holmes family, more in particular it belonged to my ancestor Arthur Holmes who was the older brother of “Henry Howard.” It is odd to talk about really, who would want to conversate with me about my family lineage going back to a serial killer. I could not recommend that, the old barn was just run-down rough building, the paint was faded out, holes in the ceiling, cobwebs filled with spider nests, and livestock. Except I did not see any cattle of horses. Only the pigs that were in a circle squealing, it is bizarre that the pigs would be in here, except I am remembering putting them in here, except I just got of bed everything from there was like a blur. Yet the only thing I could hear that got my attention from the swine making noises was the tapping, I made my way toward the beddings & stalls of usually where the cattle and horses were. I heard the tapping growing louder, and louder as I walked slowly down the path as I was getting cold, and anxious not knowing what the tapping was, my heart was racing feeling like it could jump out of my chest any second given.
By 𝐆𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞 𝐗5 years ago in Horror