Short Horror Stories

Everyone loves a good scare.

Everyone loves a good scare. That's why you're browsing posts here, correct? You thought it would be fun just before you go to bed to scare yourself just a tad bit. Harmless fun of reading that, while getting your heart to race; never puts you in real danger.

So, what's tonight's topic for your nightmares?

Jeff the Killer with his Go to Sleep?

Slenderman silently stalking you wherever you venture?

A Candle Cove experience that hits home so nostalgically for you that it seem true?

Or, maybe.

Just maybe.

Something new and unique that haunts you in an unexpected way?

Whatever the case, you keep reading. Perhaps it's all just a big joke to you. Something you laugh off rather than take seriously. No one's holding a gun to your head, after all; you're doing exactly what you're doing of your own free will.

You need to stop now.

Stop reading this for your own sake.

S-T-O-P

You're still here.

It's your own fault, you know.

You've programmed it so deep in the back of brain that just being told to stop is completely ignored.

Optimistic about what's next, aren't you?

That'll be your undoing. Just taking things as they happen; without a care in the world. Thinking your room is safe just because you have the only key to it. You have no idea how unsafe you are.

I know so much about you yet you know nothing about me. The last time you ever acknowledge my mere presence was when you were still pissing the bed. You called me the monster in your room or the boogieman.

You've just been blocking me out since then, really. You told yourself it was nothing but loose clothing or a misshapen shadow cast by one of your toys. I've never stopped watching, however. My dark red eyes stare at you even now just out of your peripheral vision.

Chills down your spine, I see.

Are you remembering the noose around my neck?

The tattered dark rags I wear?

The burlap sack over my face; which I have for your sake, so you'll never know my true unfathomable horror that it hides?

My decaying, long nailed hands?

There's that look.

The same look you had all those years ago.

One last request I see painted on your face.

Who am I?

Call me the Sunrise Killer.

All coming back to you, now; isn't it?
Those unexplained murders you glanced by in the paper over the years.

I'm not bragging but I won't deny them.

Nothing but practice.

For you.

Every single one.

Of you.

The brave ones who've prepared so long for something to happen at the apex of night.

It is darkest before dawn.

So, for you.

Just you.

The most hopeful of them all.
Look on the bright side.