Short Horror Stories

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Hello, horror fans.

You know the drill; steal my ideas and I send my Legion of demons after you.

All rights reserved. (C)

If you have any questions or demands for me please leave a comment. I am happy to be helpful any way I can. (Unless you need a blood sacrifice; no can do.)

As always, don't forget to vote if you know what's good for you and happy reading!

~~~

Darcy took a tour around the nice suburban house.

She could feel the eyes of the Sullivans on her as she did so. Bloodshot, tired eyes full of fear and anger. At least some of those ugly emotions had to be directed at her even though she was here to save them.

They had called her when they saw her ad in the paper, one they normally would have only scoffed at as they passed over it. The Sullivans hadn't believed in ghosts, or demons, or anything supernatural at all until a few weeks prior.

That's when everything had changed.

Darcy pulled a cigarette pack out of her back pocket, selected one, stuck it in her mouth and prepared to light up.

"You can't smoke in here!" Mrs. Sullivan gasped.

Darcy slid her a look with her flat, no-nonsense hazel eyes. "Mrs. Sullivan, nothing I do here today is done idly. You hired me to do a job for you, now please let me do it."

Mrs. Sullivan glanced at Mr. Sullivan and pursed her collagen filled lips when she was met with defeat. "Jessica, go to your room." The mother ordered her blonde teenage daughter.

"But Mom, I wanna watch."

"I think she should stay." Darcy said quietly, smoking over by the mantle now as she examined their family photos. Pictures of them rafting, and camping, and hiking with their Golden Retriever who they had found dead in the rose bushes last Sunday. His neck mysteriously snapped.

Mrs. Sullivan pulled her daughter away from the weird brunette woman that she was starting to regret calling. It had been Mr. Sullivan's idea, anyway.

Darcy's gaze moved to the boy, who was a few years older than his sister by the look of him. "What's your name, kid?" Darcy asked him, dragging at her cigarette thoughtfully as she looked him and his sports jersey over.

"Skylar." The kid was looking her over right back, no doubt admiring the way her jeans clung to her, how her black halter top pushed her cleavage up. Tattoos peeked out here and there from Darcy's clothes, drawing the eye.

His youthfully lusty gaze rose from her ankle boots back to her unmade up, beautiful face.

"Skylar," she repeated, exhaling away from him, "do you like listening to music?"

"Yeah, heavy rock, heavy metal." He glanced at his parents. "Hardcore scream-o."

Darcy nodded in approval. "Good. Do you have a wicked cool sound system to listen to it on?"

"Yup. Top of the line."

"Bring it down for me and blast your loudest, most blood-straining CD. The rest of you might want earplugs, but I think you should stay to see this."

The boy seemed as confused as the rest of his family, but he bounded up the stairs and came back a few seconds later with a big black stereo. He set it up on the fireplace hearth, plugging it in, glancing at his mother before he pressed Play.