Horror

The Giller. Top Story - March 2026.
The Giller roused from his fitful slumber and rose from his sleeping bag, as worn and thin as the metal floor beneath it.
By Aaron Morrison10 days ago in Fiction
The Hands That Rocked The Baby Killed Its Daddy
The Hands That Rocked The Baby Killed Its Daddy They said she was gentle. They said she had the softest voice in the ward, the kind that could calm a fevered child with a single hush. They said she was patient. Devoted. Harmless. They never listened closely enough.
By George’s Girl 2026 10 days ago in Fiction
The Dream
Andrew didn't want to go to sleep again. He was already weirded out by the odd dreams he had been having lately. He thought about telling his friends and family, but he wasn't sure how they were going to feel about his dreams. He wasn't the kind of person who talked about stuff like that. It wasn't easy for him to share his feelings about certain subjects.
By Emy Quinn11 days ago in Fiction
The Train That Never Stops
Every city has a last train. The one that runs just before midnight. The one that carries tired workers, students half asleep, and strangers who never look at each other.
By Salman Writes11 days ago in Fiction
The Kindness
The car finally ground to a halt in the darkest, most desolate country road on the planet. ‘Typical,’ hissed Gerry, slamming both fists on the steering wheel.
By Matthew Batham11 days ago in Fiction
Reflection
"Mirror, mirror, on the wall..." The one known to myth and legend as the Evil Queen had not been the mirror's first owner, nor the last. Merely the most well-known.
By Natasja Rose13 days ago in Fiction
Spring Sacrifice
The woods of Hollow Glen were quiet, save for the crunch of dead leaves underfoot. The air was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, and the last rays of sunlight filtered through the canopy, casting long, eerie shadows. The group of teenagers—Ellie, Jake, Sarah, and Ryan—had ventured there on a dare. Rumors of strange happenings in the forest around Easter had been passed down for years, but none of them believed in ghost stories.
By V-Ink Stories14 days ago in Fiction
Eggshells
Margaret Whitlock was known as the best artist in the sleepy town of Greystone. Her specialty was Easter egg sculptures—delicate, intricate creations painted with painstaking detail. Each egg was a marvel, depicting pastoral scenes, mythical creatures, and swirling patterns so fine they seemed almost alive. Every Easter, people from all over flocked to her gallery to admire and buy her work.
By V-Ink Stories14 days ago in Fiction
Trenches
I crushed my smoke out on the pavement outside the apartment complex before rubbing my eyes deeply and hauling myself off the curb and onto my feet. Two days in a row now I had shown up at Joeys, 7:30 AM so we could walk over to Sal’s shop and start our shift by 8:00. He was normally waiting for me, bright eyed and ready to go, guy loved working on cars all day while I just did it to pay for rent and cigarettes. It’s not the worst job I’ve ever had, but the jeep with two broken cv axels and a cracked transfer case was going to take me most of the day, and I’ve never liked an all-day project.
By Brier14 days ago in Fiction
𝐜υ𝐫เ𝑜𝓈ιţ𝕪 . Content Warning.
“Do You Know How Dying Feels?” She asked it the way someone asks about the weather. The room didn’t answer.
By Komal14 days ago in Fiction
The Haiku of Now
This morning, the kettle almost sang. It didn’t whistle loudly the way it usually does. It trembled at the edge of sound, a soft rising hum that seemed unsure whether it wanted to exist. I stood in the kitchen, watching the thin ribbon of steam curl upward, disappearing into nothing. For a moment, I forgot to reach for it.
By ANAS KHAN15 days ago in Fiction
The Wandering Soul
The Wandering Soul Where you go, I will go; where you stay, I will stay. The air in Naomi’s home felt thick with the scent of dried lavender and woodsmoke. Beneath it was another smell, metallic, bitter, that no amount of dried herbs and flowers could hide.
By Claire McAllen15 days ago in Fiction