Below you'll find some wonderful stories listed in the Horror genre. I hope you enjoy!
Excerpt:
Another Halloween.
Pam and I used to sit on this front porch and hand out sourballs. They were all we could afford. We'd listen to echoing giggles of trick-or-treaters and talk about having kids of our own some day. We'd laugh and eat candies until our tongues ached. We'd stay out here until the Jack-o'-lantern candle burnt itself into a puddle, and we could see our breath in the crisp air. These are the times I'm trying to think about tonight.
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Excerpt:
Billy ran to the door at the sound of the bell, anxious to see who arrived first. He opened the door quickly and saw a small child with a sheet over his head, dark, black holes cut into eye holes. At one of the bottom corners, the letter "C" written in permanent marker. Billy remembered last Halloween, this is the same costume Charlie wore. Billy was glad to see Charlie; it had been weeks that Charlie has been in the hospital.
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Excerpt:
I have finally come to grips with the fact that I am dying. My seizures are more frequent now, and for the past two months, I have had delusions of an angel and a vampire following me around.
The three of us walk along the dusty roads together: Azazel, the Prince of Darkness, Michael, the Archangel, and me, a writer, slowly losing his mind.
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Excerpt:
I sat looking at the trophy in my hands, the evidence of what I'm truly capable of doing.
For months I had suffered with writer's block. I couldn't write a word; I hadn't a single idea in my head.
Suddenly I was hit with a surge of inspiration. My fingers raced over the keyboard as the story filled my monitor's screen. It was as though the story was being dictated to me, word by glorious word. When I finished I could hardly believe that I had written this wonderful tale.
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Excerpt:
A late summer breeze stirs, carrying her intoxicating smell across the room. Hints of orchid and vanilla infiltrate my senses. Vibrant and seductive, it stirs something within me. She moves to her dresser and turns on the radio. Haunting, melodic notes waft through the night, a serenade for the dead. My eyes drift shut for a brief moment as the music speaks to me. I resist the urge to reach out and touch her, my unwitting bride. I remain rooted, content to watch from the shadows. What is a mere moment when compared to the promise of eternity? Our time approaches with swift peril.
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Excerpt:
As the final hymn drew to a close, Pastor Marx moved from behind the pulpit to the center of the sanctuary. "Go in peace. Serve the Lord," he declared.
"Thanks be to God," the congregation intoned. The pastor began his recessional as the postlude commenced, completing his journey at the back door of the nave. That familiar cue prompted me to grab Amy's little hand and shuffle out of the pew toward the center aisle, where we were swept up in the rest of the crowd filing toward the exit. The pastor greeted the parishioners as they made their exodus and prepared to go about the rest of their day, and before long, it was my turn.
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Excerpt:
Annie Douglas sat at the kitchen table, her cup of coffee long grown cold. Every once in a while, her insipid gaze strayed to the calendar tacked on the wall beside the back door. Each blocked number had a bold black 'X' crossed over it. No one saw her shudder, no one knew her fear.
Exactly one year ago to the day, her husband, Henry, was murdered.
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Excerpt:
Leaving my living room and grabbing my coat, I cursed under my breath, silently complaining about the terrible movie I had just watched. I left the house while still fastening the zipper on my coat and strode down the empty, dark street.
The weather was milder now, after a long cold winter, even at this time of the evening. There seemed to be a threat of rain in the air and the wind was a little bit chilly. Other than that, it felt like spring. Winter was well and truly gone for a year.
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