Somewhere, alone in an overgrown field stands an old shed.
Almost a ruin, perhaps not even a shed at all.
Graffiti covering the outer walls, but that doesn't take as much of people's attention as the darkness seeping out of it.
A shed.
Possibly not even used as one at all.
The darkness behind the broken down entrance incites people in.
People of all sorts.
From curious teens to tired elders.
A shed.
It's beckoning me with quiet voices, whispers like wind, beckoning me, welcoming me to enter.
A shed.
Falling apart and yet so dark.
It's hiding many a secret.
It looks famished.
It looks hungry.
A shed.
One step too close I hear a shriek.
Was it the creaking of the boards or something else?
A shed.
Who's to tell the amount of soul that entered to never return.
A shed.
It hides the crimson, but not the smell.
A shed.
It pleads, oh it pleads.
It pleads for you to enter.
The shed knows you're here.
YOU ARE READING
Short Horror Stories
HorrorMy vision obscured by the darkness of my mind... A bundle of short horror stories written by me. Most of the stories here are more on the psychological side of horror. Updates every Tuesday. Some stories might be a bit dark so viewer discretion is...
