How to Write a Scary Story

by Emily Wenstrom | 55 comments

I love Halloween. The creepy movies, ghost stories, the crisp fall air, the pumpkins. And who doesn’t love to get dressed up and hit the town for night? But there’s nothing like a horrifying story to get in your head—and get you in the spirit. Here are four tips on how to write a scary story.

4 Tips on How to Write a Scary Story

What makes a good scary story? Is it details that evoke the fear factor? The element of surprise or suspense?

Maybe the supernatural elements like ghosts or vampires will set your spooky story apart. Whatever key elements you chose to include in your scary story, here are a few pointers on how to write a scary story to get you started.

(And to see our complete guide on writing a short story, click here.)

1. Explore what scares you.

Story ideas can come from anywhere, but for a scary story, start with one of your greatest fears—not to be confused with things generically considered scary. Whether it’s something trivial like clowns or fear of heights or something traumatic like losing a child, the best stories start with something personal.

So what real world fears scare you? Explore it and take that absolute fear to its darkest place. Now, how do you get your readers there with you?

2. Identify your main character

A strong main character in a horror story draws readers into their experience and makes them feel the fear. This stands true whether you’re telling the story from the perspective of the protagonist or a true villain.

Personally, my favorite horror characters are often the ones that can’t be trusted.

As you choose or develop your main character, consider what makes them vulnerable to the fear you're exploring. How are they uniquely built to have to face that fear in the scariest scenes of your story? 

3. Work the suspense

Hitchcock wasn’t one of the greats for nothing. The soul of a good horror story isn’t the terrifying killer, it’s the fear of what the killer is going to do. A good horror story exposes just enough for the reader to know something isn’t right, but not enough for readers to know why until the end.

Suspense stories set up conditions where the reader knows something is going to happen. Sometimes they do it with foreshadowing. Othertimes it might be through a creepy setting or some creepier element. Look for ways to draw out that tension.

4. Warning: Avoid the tropes

Like any genre, horror has its tropes. Every single one of them comes creeping out of the woodwork this time of year, too. But I think we’ve all seen enough dumb teen girls make bad choices that end with them murdered by a serial killer. Don’t give in to the tropes!

When using horror motifs, like any story, find your own unique take.

Now go embrace the season! Start with these guidelines and see where your imagination takes you—soon you’ll have a bone-chillingly haunting story on your hands.

What tips do you have on how to write a scary story? Share in the comments.


What scares YOU? Pick up a pen and explore your fear for fifteen minutes, considering ways to turn it into inspiration for a story. Share your results in the Pro Practice Workshop and give feedback to three other writers.

How to Write Like Louise PennyWant to write like Louise Penny? Join our new class and learn how. Learn more and sign up here.

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By day, Emily Wenstrom, is the editor of short story website wordhaus, author social media coach, and freelance content marketing specialist. By early-early morning, she is E. J. Wenstrom, a sci-fi and fantasy author whose first novel Mud will release in March 2016.


  1. Darienne

    I love writing horror! Here’s something I use to help me: watch TONS of scary movies and read TONS of horror novels! This is where you learn what to do as well as what NOT to do. And you explore many story lines that can inspire you!

    • Emily Wenstrom

      Great idea to put you in the right mood 🙂

    • Avril

      I agree, lots of reading in any genre of one’s choosing builds a knowledge base of what good writing is made of.

  2. Karen B

    I am terrible at writing horror. I admit that freely. My skills lie in other areas, so I can’t really offer any tips.

    I did ponder some fears: darkness, house creaks when you’re alone, something happening to my children, break-ins, bees.

    I combined several of these I to this practice(fun to write, even though it is pretty cliche!):

    It comes in the dark, hiding among the shadows. It creeps through empty rooms, and the floorboards creak and groan. She laughs to herself, hearing the sounds. The house only makes those noises when her husband is out of town.

    It continues to slink along the walls, drawing ever closing to the children’s rooms. She feels a chill she can’t explain and contemplates adjusting the thermostat. She decides not to. Wouldn’t want to disturb the kids, sleeping so soundly. They’re obviously not bothered by the cold.

    It reaches the bedroom door of the youngest child and stealthily enters. A quiet gasp and then nothing.

    • Emily Wenstrom

      You had me at “the house only makes those noises when her husband is out of town.” I swear my place does this.

    • Avril

      I don’t know, that’s not so cliche. Sounds like an original twist on a universal fear. I like it.

    • Karen B

      Thank you! You’re very kind!

    • orli

      Wow, amazing story. Had me at the edge of my seat for sure!

  3. NatsumiMichi

    I love reading horror, I love watching scary movies and shows about the paranormal and while I put up a fearless act in front of anyone who’s watching, my brain usually quickly succumbs to a fearful paranoia induced by whatever was going on in the book/movie. It’s an unsettling feeling, yet one I tend to seek every now and then for reasons beyond me. Seeing what a scardy cat I can – if only internally – be, I often wonder why I keep coming back for more.

    I find it’s mostly because normally I am not scared of much. I have fears, of course, but those are mostly ambiguous, fears I can rationalize and deal with or ignore. So getting scared the “good ol’ jump scary shivers down your spine-y” way every now and then feels somewhat refreshing I guess. The thrill it brings along with the creepy feeling that takes root deep within you, racing you heartbeat as if it’s the F1 season already, is just something only a good horror can deliver for me.

    Let me watch one episode of Ghost Adventures and the second I lay down to sleep I’m going to overanalyze every strange sound that stirs in the dark, desolate room, even though I know if there were ghosts here, they probably would have started a party earlier in the twenty years I’ve lived here. Just re-reading Suzuki Koji’s Dark waters makes me stare suspiciously at the tap when I pour water down my glass, expecting slimy hair – or worse – to follow suit. Just few days ago my friend brought me his collection of the Nickelodeon classic – Are you afraid of the dark? I thought: “Hey! My favorite show growing up! Surely I won’t be scared after watching thi – oh well, never mind” *hides under her bed.,..with the boogeyman*

    Ridiculously enough, never am I more scared than right after indulging in my guilty horror pleasures. Suddenly everything becomes a 100% more scarier. It’s probably why I have never even thought about writing a horror story – I might as well scare myself to death with the paranoia itself before even finishing the story :’D

    • Avril

      I’m such a scaredy-cat I can’t watch horror movies. They give me unspeakable, apocalyptic nightmares. I do watch the paranormal shows, then sit around all night imagining noises. I don’t know if I could write horror either.

  4. EndlessExposition

    You are beautiful, my darling. You remind me of the inner workings of a lock: every curve of your figure, every delicate bend, fits together perfectly into something so much more than its parts, but that is even more stunning because of their elegance. You glint like alabaster in the moonlight, a marble temple to your own divinity. Your dark eyes are
    endless, seeing into mysteries I cannot yet comprehend. How wise you must be. Your
    smile stretches from ear to ear, ever cheerful. You will never be sad again, this I know. Here, let me interlock your fingers with mine and look at you. You are just as lovely now as the day we first met. It has taken me so long to find you again, my love. And I promise we will never again be parted. In the morning the pastor will find the earth disturbed and will think nothing of it. He is a careless man. He will call the gravedigger to fill the opening back up and that will be the end of it. No one will ever think to look for me. We will hold each other forever my darling, here in our home beneath the ground.

    • 709writer

      It made my heart ache at the end. Losing someone that you love is a devastating thing that rips your heart out. When I think that I might lose my brother or my parents, that fear can be crippling, and I can feel depressed just thinking about it. Whoever you have lost, EndlessExposition, I pray that God will heal your heart.

    • Avril

      Very Edgar Allen Poe-ish. Romantic and creepy. Good job!

    • Adam Hughes

      Horror can be especially disturbing when its laced with love, as in this piece. Nice work.

    • Israh

      This somewhat reminds me of Faulkner’s A Rose for Emily. Love it!

    • Sidney G Fox

      That definitely gave me the creeps. I’m impressed at how nervous the sinister voice and imagery (smile stretches from ear to ear especially weird) made me feel while reading it!

  5. 709writer

    One of my greatest fears crept out in my main character: being raped. I’ve never had to face the possibility of being raped before, but I know things like that happen, so when I walk to my car in the dark, notice a creepy guy watching me, or get asked personal questions by a complete stranger (that’s happened and every guy that slaps eyes on a woman for the first time and asks for her number and if she has a boyfriend needs a knucklesandwich), that fear can sneak into my mind. That’s why I’m an extremely cautious person. I don’t trust easily, and I try never to be alone with a guy I don’t trust. Anyway, my main character actually deals with a situation where she’s almost raped. So in a way, she’s really facing something I fear.

    • Avril

      I think writing stories and letting our characters work through some of our fears is a valid approach. The reader can see the world through your eyes and your perceptions, and experience things thet thought they knew in a totally different way. As for you, the writing may help you understand and cope with your fears.

    • Sidney G Fox

      I’m working on something very similar and exercise the same kind of caution.. at times I feel like I should be writing something lighter and more hopeful, rather than being further drawn into the fear, but maybe it’s how we create writing at its most powerful. Totally agree with you re the knucklesandwich!! 🙂

  6. Adam Hughes

    Can’t resist a horror prompt, especially when it digs into my own fears …

    “Oh my! I’ll call the exterminator first thing in the morning, dear. How awful that that happened to you!” Mrs. Ketchens stood on her stoop and made a sour face at her visitor.

    “It’s really, OK, Mrs. Ketchens. I shouldn’t have bothered you with this tonight. I can just run to the store and pick up some mousetraps,” Jarrod said, feeling embarrassed.

    “Nonsense, young man. There is no reason at all that my tenants should have to put up with an infestation. Right there in the — in the shed, was it?”

    Jarrod looked at his shoe laces as he replied, “Yes, I saw it in the shed.”

    “Right there in the shed! Imagine! And how many did you say you saw?” Mrs. Ketchens looked at Jarrod over her wire rims.

    “Well, um, just the one. I’m sorry, Mrs. Ketchens. I REALLY shouldn’t have told you about this. It’s no big deal.” Jarrod was squirming under the old lady’s glare, and he felt like she was beginning to ridicule him.

    “Whether it was one or one THOUSAND, it is I who should apologize, Mr. Harris. No, we’ll get this all cleared up in the morning. In the meantime,” Ketchens said as she clutched his cold hand, “I insist that you let me make it up to you with a cup of tea.”

    She tugged Jarrod across the threshold with surprising force, and she closed the door behind him before he could protest.

    “Well … hehe … maybe just a quick cup.” The room was warm in the glow of the fireplace.

    “Splendid!” Mrs. Ketchens delighted. “I already have the pot near a boil. Have a seat there on the sofa by the fire, and I’ll fetch us some cups.”

    Jarrod felt like an intruder in his landlady’s home, but he was the one who had ran to her when he found a silly mouse in an outbuilding. Same stupid phobia that had haunted him his whole life.

    He had to humor the old coot now, so he settled onto the sofa, kicking up a puff of dust. He could hear Mrs. Ketchens rattling dishes in the next room, and she emerged from the darkness after a couple of minutes.

    “Here we go, dear.” She carried a dingy platter with cups, a creamer, and a sugar bowl to the coffee table near the fire.

    By the flickering light, Mrs. Ketchens poured boiling water from the copper kettle into the cups, causing the tea bags inside to bob up and down, pulling at the strings that flopped over the brims.

    “There, now. Just a few minutes and we’ll have some soothing tea to take our minds off that unpleasantness at your house,” the old lady promised. “How do you take it? Milk? Sugar?”

    “Um, no, black is fine.” Jarrod just wanted to get this over with.

    After some stilted talk about the weather and plenty of awkward silence, Mrs. Ketchens moved to the table once again and bobbed the tea bags up and down a few times.

    “Oh, that’s so nice!” she called out and then carried the steaming cups to the couch and handed one to Jarrod. “Here you go, dear. Enjoy!”

    “Thank you, Mrs. Ketchens,” Jarrod replied as he wrapped his fingers around the cup.

    A few sips in, Jarrod had to admit that he was feeling better. Maybe that Ketchens knew what she was doing after all.

    Just as that thought rolled down his throat, Mrs. Ketchens exclaimed, “I’m so rude sometimes!”

    She hopped up and clicked on a floor lamp to right of the mantel that Jarrod had not even noticed by the firelight. Then she lifted her tea bag from his cup to make her point: “I didn’t even ask you if you preferred chocolate or vanilla!”

    The old lady was holding not a tea bag, but a squirming brown mouse, crying out now in pain from the scalding water.

    Horrified, Jarrod looked into his own cup just in time to see a red-eyed, white rodent head break the surface of his “tea,” and it screamed.

    And so did Jarrod.

    • Karen B

      Auuughhh! Oh, my goodness. Yeah, that’s horror. Ugh. *shudders*. I’ll be in the corner, shaking. (Excellent job.)

    • Avril

      That was horrible! (In a good way).

    • Emily Wenstrom

      Ew ew ew! That just makes me cringe. Nice work.

    • Natuley Smalle

      Love this, had to stop myself from skipping to end just to kill the suspense.

    • Diane Turner

      Double ick, with cold shivers. Fabulous!

    • Adam Hughes

      Thanks for the comments. Gotta go change the traps now. 🙂

    • Sidney G Fox

      I loved the suspense you built up in this, with the awkwardness and the use of light to reveal the story’s elements. Must confess I was expecting far worse than a cup of mouse tea but am v relieved I’ll still be able to sleep tonight! 🙂

    • Muhammad J Rana

      that was a nice caramel “verminilla” macchiato latte… the end

    • suck on em

      your profile picture makes u like like a complete faggot

  7. Avril

    I’ve been posting bits of a short story that has scary images. This story is scary in a metaphysical, “we are all always creating our own heaven or hell” way. I will post the next bit now. To recap, Yvonne, nice wife, and Preston, mean husband, die in a fiery crash. Preston wakes up in a dark, demonic place by the side of a black lake. A guy I have tried very hard to depict as scary is trying to get Preston into a rowboat. Then Yvonne finds herself on a pristine, untouched mountain top where the snow is not cold, and there are friendly human-like beings with mirror eyes there to greet her. She has just convinced them to let her know what happened to Preston, and they have opened a hole in the snow. Down below, Yvonne has caught a glimpse of Preston, sleeping on a bed of flames.

    Yvonne’s reaction was automatic. There was no thought involved, just a reflex to rescue someone she loved from a horrible fate. She knelt in front of the one in the brown robe, clasped her hands together, and turned up her face in supplication. She prayed to this being as, during life, she had prayed to God. “Please, I beg you! Please let Preston come up here with us! You don’t understand him the way I do! Please, please, let him come here!” The wrinkled face frowned, and the mirrored eyes, which had reflected the sky and clouds, went dark, as if a light had been switched off.

    Sobbing, Yvonne did not give up. “Please, I’m begging you, give him a chance! He’s a good man! He was only mean to me because he didn’t love me, and I pressured him to marry me and stay with me! I used the kids to make him feel trapped! I loved him so much I couldn’t let him go! Can’t you see how good he is? He was just unhappy! Please don’t punish him for that! Please, please, just let him come up here for a little while. You’ll see he really belongs here!. Please, please!

    Yvonne could no longer see the face inside the hood of the brown robe. There was a dark emptiness where previously she had clearly seen a face. She looked down to see what was happening to Preston, and was relieved to see that he had floated up off of the flames, and was slowly floating up towards the clouds and mountain top. She could not see the means of his ascension, yet he remained perfectly and evenly prone, as if lying on an invisible platform, that brought him slowly to the rim of the hole in the snow. Preston levitated, still asleep, a few feet above the hole. The edge of the hole became misty and the hole shrank a little. In a few moments, the hole was gone and the unseen force set Preston gently on the new, powdery white snow.

    As his body touched the new snow, Preston’s eyes opened wide, and he took in a sharp gulp of air. Yvonne knelt down to hold him, but he pushed her away and screamed. His eyes were open wide, and he began thrashing and rolling around. His movements were so violent, she couldn’t get close to him. Preston shrieked unintelligible high, piercing, primal screams. Yvonne ran around him, trying to see what was happening. “Preston!”, she yelled over his screaming. “What is going on? What is happening to you?”

    Preston continued writhing and screaming, and managed to turn his head to look directly at Yvonne. “I’m burning!” He cried out, “Help me, I’m burning. HELP ME, Oh God, HELP ME!” He didn’t say any more, and continued shrieking and wailing. Feeling sick, Yvonne finally grasped that the snow, which had been neither hot nor cold for her, was in fact an inferno of agony for Preston.

    She ran back to the robed figure, who had not moved the entire time. The face had not returned, and she still could only make out blackness and empty space instead of any type of visage. She fell back on her knees and begged, “Send him back! I didn’t know! I didn’t know it would hurt him! Please send him back to where he was! I’ll never ask again, I swear! She screamed louder than Preston, and fell forward on the ground. She looked up and begged, “Please, please, please, please, please….” Finally, the hole in the snow reopened, and Preston descended as slowly and evenly as he had ascended. The flames far below were still there, and he was on course to be set down gently on the pyre. Preston was halfway back when the hole abruptly closed, yet Yvonne could still hear his screams, growing fainter.

    This is not the end, there is one more scene.

    • Emily Wenstrom

      Interesting concept — thanks for sharing!

    • Sidney G Fox

      I love the way you use dialect in your story to tell so much about Yvonne’s feelings towards her husband – she’s instantly such a lovable character.
      Also this piece created some great imagery for me ‘and the mirrored eyes, which had reflected the sky and clouds, went dark, as if a light had been switched off’.
      When do we get to read the next scene? 🙂

    • Avril

      Sidney, thank you for the feedback. I put installments on The Write Practice when the days assignment will fit the next scene in the story.

  8. Gert van den Berg

    When I was looking at my fears the thing that stood out the most wasn’t the thing I feared but rather the anxiety that accompanied it. So this got me thinking of those days as a child when you couldn’t sleep because of the monster under the bed (I must admit that even at age 22 I still sometimes get that feeling when i get out of bed at night). I know this isn’t much but this is what I came up with.

    Help mommy daddy Help!
    the scratching, make it stop
    can’t you hear it
    Make It stop!

    Help mommy daddy Help!
    It’s under my bed
    hiding, waiting
    Find It! Find It!

    Help mommy daddy Help!
    the breath, I can smell it
    rotten, stinks
    Kill It!

    Quickly mommy daddy Quickly!
    It’s crawling out
    coming to get me
    Save me!

    Hurry mommy daddy Hurry!
    getting closer, sniffing
    claws reaching, No No
    Save me!

    Please mommy daddy Please!
    scared, Save me
    teeth, biting, No No
    Too Late! Save me

    • Natuley Smalle

      Brilliantly captures that feeling I think we can all relate to from all those years ago.

    • Gert van den Berg

      Thanks for the comment. Happy that it captured anything since it’s so different from my usual style.

    • Sidney G Fox

      Mine always hid in the wardrobe! This just totally took me back in time.

    • Gert van den Berg

      To be honest mine always stood beside my bed. Which was really creepy since I could only fall asleep if I was lying on my side. Thanks for the comment!

  9. Julia

    My deepest fears include being alone forever, invisible to the ones I love, and most of all, unworthy of love. When I started thinking how this could apply to the horror genre or how these fears could inspire a story. My idea was about a young woman who’s cursed. Anyone she falls in love with meets some kind of terrible unfortunate ending, so she swears off love and becomes a recluse. But then one day she meets someone who relentlessly pursues her and she gives in. But soon after they get together weird things start happening, so they join together to figure out how to break the curse. Or whatever.

    I’m not quite sure if this falls along the lines of what the prompt’s asking, but at least it got me thinking. 😛

    • Sidney G Fox

      Your idea just got me thinking too – thanks for sharing! 🙂

  10. Natuley Smalle

    So this is my first time actually posting in a prompt and its a bit late only read this tonight but here goes. My biggest fear is probably the loss of a loved one. So not sure if this is horror per se but for me its terrifying thought


    Dana decided to take a long walk. The weather outside wasn’t particularly summery, it was cool but not chill, just mild enough to be refreshing. She felt as if she had walked for sometime and decided she might like to sit down. Suddenly she was feeling light headed, to her convenience she had stopped just by a bench. As it turned out this was her favourite bench, the spot her mother had always brought her for their Sunday afternoon picnics, she must bring Anya someday. She loved this spot it overlooked the pond, they had always made sure to bring extra bread rolls to feed the ducks. It was so beautiful until they filled it in and turned it into a skate part after the poor baby had drowned.

    Confusion, crashed in. Followed quickly by reality. She fell backwards into Jonathan’s arms. Suddenly aware of where she was, her coat still in her hand she had fallen into him. He was holding her as if she might shatter into a million pieces if he let her go, at that moment she felt as if that were true.

    “Darling did you hear me – darling talk to me”, his voice was desperate, lonely, pleading for her to return to her role as The Supporter. How could she? What was there left to support. The structure she held up was – he said it again ” Its our Anya… they found her… she’s… Anya’s gone”. Her reality began fading once more.


    • Sidney G Fox

      Hi, well done for posting – I’m too scared to dream up and write something fearful, knowing I’ll have nightmares for a week if I dwell on anything even remotely creepy!
      I found reading this a bit confusing and had to reread a couple of times, then wondered whether you’d created the sense of confusion deliberately. It’s definitely surreal. 🙂

  11. Guest

    I locked the doors, dead bolted them, went and got a glass of water then repeated the process. I was alone. He had promised me it wouldn’t ever happen– that I’d never be completely alone, but now look at where we are. I sat down on the floor in the laundry room. I couldn’t bring myself to go up the stairs to the bedroom. I couldn’t even step foot in there. Not after what happened in there.

  12. TwystedMayhem

    Honestly, what scares me most is my own mind. I’ve been known to come up with disturbing thoughts, and my dreams are horrors on a whole other level, so this is my practice:

    The darkness loomed overhead, as the moon slipped behind clouds, but that was normal, and Emma simply smiled as she looked out her screened window. It was raining again. Everybody always said it wasn’t healthy to stay up so late, but she loved the night-time so much. She glanced over to her digital alarm clock; three thirty-seven am. She should probably go to sleep soon, but the insomnia, and her racing mind kept her up.

    “You really should go to bed you know.” Emma froze. Everybody was asleep, weren’t they? That didn’t sound like either of her parents’ voices either. Slowly, she turned her head to look at her door, scared to see who it was. Her vision blurred and went black. She blinked until it came into focus. There was nobody there. “Really, what are you so scared of? Monsters? They don’t exist. It’s just me here.” The voice paused and why did it feel like it was smiling? “And I am, after all, you.”

    It didn’t make any sense. The disembodied voice the blurring vision- and why wouldn’t her eyes come into focus completely? “No, go away. I don’t want you here.” She muttered.

    “Darling,” it drew out the word lovingly. “I can’t just go away, when I’m inside your head.”

    “No…” Emma protested, starting to get desperate. Everytime it showed up, bad things happened. “I’m not crazy.” It laughed as she tried to cover her ears. “I’M NOT CRAZY!!!”

    The screams seemed to dissolve into the night, but across the hall, her mother woke up. She ran to her daughters room, only to find a monster. Sitting on her bed, the thing had bloodshot eyes, and a malicious grin. Shadows surrounded it, and she took a step back.

    “Who are you, and what have you done with our daughter?!” The woman demanded. The creature looked up at her, and she froze. That looked like-

    “What, don’t you recognize me? Your poor daughter, not even recognized by her own family. Between that instant and the next, the creature leapt.

    David woke to find his wife clawed to death in the hall, and his daughter sleeping peacefully in her room.

    Sometimes the worst monster is what’s inside our minds.

  13. Jason Chapman

    good advice

  14. Guestperson

    That’s funny because when I read the suggestion that I should write down my fears, I was like “No, because someone might be watching and use them to mess with me!” and then I realized, well, that’s one of them there.

  15. Kiana Iverson

    …People Hide Who They Are…

    Once upon a time there was a little girl named Lucy. She was not like any other ordinary girl, she was quiet and never slept at night. Her parents got really worried when she turned 11. She still continued to never talk or sleep. She now only wore black and red clothing with spiky boots, necklaces, and bracelets. Lucy’s parents got really worried and eventually sent her to a foster home.

    When Lucy arrived at the foster care center she went straight up to her room there and stayed there. Lucy put her bags on the bed and started unpacking her things. She opened up a dresser drawer and placed her black jeans and leggings there. Opening up the second drawer with her shirts in her hand, she placed them there. She looked on the top of the dresser and found a jewelry box . Lucy decided to put her necklaces and bracelets there.

    Lucy looked around and found a book about Fallen Angels on the top of the bed frame. She started reading the book that night and found it very interesting. The book had a huge impact on her and she wanted to become a Fallen Angel. Everything that the book described the Angels looked like, matched her and her interests. Lucy began a project.

    The project consisted of becoming a Fallen Angel. The book told her exactly what the Angels do and when. On a certain week during the year called Cheshvan is when the Angels do something bad. The Angels kill at least 12 people during that week at night when no one can see them. Lucy was fascinated at this. She always knew she was bad, but she never knew she was willing to kill to become something she wanted to be. Cheshvan was only 3 weeks away and she had to prepare.

    She got as many books she could find about Fallen angels and Cheshvan. Once she had at least 5 books she began reading and reading. It had now been at least a week and a half. Lucy had almost everything she needed except for a certain necklace or ring. This was a Archangel necklace and ring, she had to have at least one or the other. She began sneaking out at night to go looking around town for a antique shop.

    The first night she went out looking she found one antique shop right around the block. The doors were unlocked and the employee was no where to be found. Lucy then saw the sign “Fallen/Archangel Jewelry.” She was pleased to have found it so quick. She walked over and saw that the necklace and ring were locked in a glass case and locked in. When she made sure no one was around, she smashed the glass and grabbed the necklace, then ran.

    When she got back into the Foster Center she went straight to her room and started reading again. The 5 books were very interesting to her. Lucy had now put on the necklace and began a list of whom she should kill. The first 2 shouldn’t be hard she thought with a smile. She wrote them down:

    01. Mom

    02. Dad

    After she wrote those 2 down she began thinking again. She didn’t know anyone in the Foster home so she just wrote down:

    03. Kid

    04. Kid

    05. Kid (8 kids)

    06. Kid

    07. Kid

    08. Kid

    09. Kid

    10. Kid

    11. Mistress 1.

    12. Mistress 2.

    After Lucy wrote these names she felt good about herself. Opening up a drawer she placed the paper in there.

    Another week and a half had passed. It was now Cheshvan. Lucy waited till 11:02pm to start killing. Deciding to only kill her parents tonight, but she knew they stayed up late. “If they saw me who would they tell, they’ll be dead.” she thought with a wide smile on her face. She snuck out the window. Lucy ran to her house and peeked into the windows. They were watching a movie on the couch. “This should be easier that I thought, all I have to do is show my face and slit their throats.” Lucy laugh slightly at her amazing thought. She walked through the back door.

    She walked through the kitchen and grabbed the biggest knife. Then walked right in front of the television grinning. Her parents were astonished at this. They were so shocked to scream or even move. Lucy walked behind the couch and counted down, “3…2…1…Dead.” Taking the knife slicing through the thin skin on their necks. Her parents within minutes bled out and were dead. Lucy enjoyed this more than she thought, she laughed all the way back to the Foster Center.

    It was now Tuesday. The mistress 1. came in and talked quietly to Lucy. Lucy listened to the mistress and how she was telling her about how her parents were murdered. Lucy just sat there with a straight face. Once the mistress left Lucy was pleased that her work had been noticed. She then thought, “I’ll be even happier tomorrow after I kill 4 kids tonight.”

    It was now 11:04pm. She had taken the knife from her parents house and hid it in the drawer. Lucy decided to kill 4 kids on the other side of the building so nobody would suspect her tomorrow. She walked quietly out of the room, down the stairs, and into the room with the 4 girls. Lucy came in closely. She cut off the first girls head, then slit the second girls throat, then with the third girl slit her throat as well, and then last but not least the cut off the fourth girls head.

    It was now Wednesday and Lucy woke up to everyone sleeping. This time no one came in to talk to her. She was once again pleased with herself and her killing skills. Lucy decided not to kill again for a couple of days even though she now loved becoming something else other than a human. Deciding not to kill till friday was a type of punishment for her, but it had to be done.

    It was now Friday, it was time to kill. No one would be expecting a killing of 5 people tonight. Lucy had already killed 6 people, tonight would make it 11 people. She waited till 11:05pm to begin to kill. But tonight would have a twist. She wasn’t going to kill just kids. Lucy was going to kill 4 kids and 1 mistress.

    It was now 11:05pm. She was more ready than ever. She walked out of the room silently and went for 4 boys to kill. She walked into the room where the boys were, and slit their throats one by one. But, she did this quickly so they wouldn’t scream. When she was done with them she went to the mistress’s room. This time she woke up the mistress softly and counted down, “3…2…1…Dead.” Before Lucy killed her, she let the mistress see her face. Her work was done for that night.

    Saturday morning was the last day of Cheshvan. Lucy had to make her last kill tonight so she could become a Fallen Angel. She was excited for this last night. The necklace was placed around her neck still. Her knife was in her drawer waiting for the moment to feel the flesh across the blade. All of a sudden Lucy heard screaming and it was loud. She didn’t bother to open the door. All that she could do was smile as big as she could.

    It’s now 11:01. Her last kill awaits down the hall in bed. Lucy grabbed the knife and opened the door. To her surprise the mistress that she was coming to kill was standing in the doorway. Lucy was not frightened until the mistress with dark baggy eyes pulled out a gun and brought it to Lucy’s chest. In a matter of 4 seconds the mistress pulled the trigger. But the mistress was a Fallen Angel and Lucy was her last kill for Cheshvan.

  16. Pupspai

    This is true I swear:
    These creepypastas were made years ago when I was very young, and they are old, terribly cliché and outdated. I keep them posted only because some people still enjoy reading these, and they remain a fond memory for many. Whether you’re reading these for laughs, or because you legitimately like them, I hope you enjoy!

    Poképark Wii to me was one of those games I picked up once, powered through, then never touched again. It’s fun and amusing the first round, but after a while the mini-games and running to and fro get a tad bit stale. I personally found it a bit amusing how every Pokémon you make friends with always asks you to play with them again some time later on.

    Especially Mew.

    That thing must’ve been one of the single most frustrating bosses I’ve ever fought in my gaming life. To think such a simple game would have something so frustrating to end it off still boggles my mind. I sure wasn’t going to re-challenge it for fun any time soon. When you think about it, it’s really no wonder Mew is stuck up alone on that Sky Pavilion with no friends.

    Somewhere along the line the pleas of the Pokémon for me to return must have gotten to me, since recently I found a desire to play the game once more. When I turned the game on, I had figured I wouldn’t be playing for very long. I’d just run around and talk to a few Pokémon until I got bored and quit, then never look at the game again for another year.

    Pikachu pranced around on the loading screen, and I couldn’t help but grin. I had to give credit: This game was adorable. I mentally concluded I’d visit all the main attractions at all the zones to start off. I was dropped off at the Poképark Entrance, which was a bit strange. There wasn’t really any reason for me to have gone there the last time I saved, but alas, just a few extra seconds for me to run. I powered through the trail abusing the dash ability.

    The forest around the trail seemed… Odd, though. It seemed a bit more dark than normal. There weren’t that many trees, and what few there was were dead and shriveled. The path I was walking on seemed to be made of ash too. I couldn’t wait to get out of there and make it to Meadow Zone. Except, when I did, I almost wished I was back at the Entrance.

    The Meadow Zone laid in ruins. There wasn’t a living tree, plant, or anything green in sight. The landscape was barren and grey, as well was the sky, with a few columns of smoke spiraling out of the cracked ground. A few oddly shaped stones were here and there, and scattered about were what appeared to be… corpses? I took a few steps forward, but was confronted by a wonderful sight: Mew.

    “Oh, you’re finally back! We’ve been waiting for you for a long time.” I didn’t know what it meant by “we”, considering there wasn’t a living thing in sight for miles. “Hey, wanna play a game?” I pondered whether to choose yes or not, considering I didn’t feel like going through the pain of battling it all over again. Then considering the current situation, I selected yes, and if it came to worst and I had to fight it then I’d just shut this accursed game off and never let it see the light of day again.

    It giggled, then replied with, “Think you can win?” It paused, seemingly to let that statement settle in, then spoke once more, “Meet me at Venasaur’s old attraction!” Then flew off. I started to dash off after it, then realized something:

    What the heck is going on here.

    I had a feeling this would probably be the best moment to shut this game off than to see what was in store, but… Curiosity got the better of me. I continued my chase.

    I didn’t reach very far until I was stopped by a cut scene as I neared the first corpse in my path: a Buneary. It shook, then rose off the ground. It stared at me with white, soulless eyes, its blood matted fur covered in dirt, grime, and gaping gashes. Then the abomination spoke, “Will you play with me?” I selected no, not really wanting to play with… whatever it was. It looked genuinely distressed, and persisted, “But… we just wanted to play with you… It’s been so long…”

    It slowly, almost painfully, crawled towards my Pikachu, then began to attack it. Or, look more like it was trying to murder it than attack it. I fought back in self-defense with an Iron Tail to the face, and promptly sliced its head in half. It fell to the ground, a pile of flesh. It took me a moment for it to set in that I just killed a Pokémon. I calmly backed away from the crime scene, and continued my trek on chasing after the Mew as I was before.

    As I sped along, other corpses began to rise, although most I just knocked out of the way and into the river while dashing through. I reached Venasaur’s attraction, to instead find Chikorita standing in the middle of the platform. It wasn’t a zombie like the previous animated corpses, but looked as if it had gone through the apocalypse and back. It looked it’d been cut up and beat down mercilessly, the only discernible feature being its uncharacteristically grey eyes. “Help me.” was the only thing it said.

    I turned around to find the Mew right behind me, which giggled and asked, “Ready to play?” It showed the basic instructions, swing on the vine, jump as far as you can, the whole package. Except when it came time to pick my character, Pikachu was the only one available, although it still had the sad animation playing as if you couldn’t select it.

    The game play was normal, except for the fact Pikachu wasn’t swinging on a vine. Instead there was a Tropius hanging from the branch, with its intestines falling out of its mouth. Pikachu clung to the intestines, although looked as if it would rather give up and drop down immediately instead of being forced to hold onto that. I wouldn’t blame it. I swung the “vine” back and forth, and when I felt I had enough momentum, let go.

    Pikachu soared across the track, and landed just short of where the Mew stood waiting. On the after screen, Pikachu slumped onto the ground defeated, as apparently I hadn’t broke the top current record. Mew giggled and spun around in the background, apparently thrilled that I lost. There were no Pokémon to be gloomy with me or cheer with Mew, as at the moment, they were all dead corpses. When asked if I would like to replay the attraction, I selected “No” without a doubt.

    Back in the over world, Mew and Chikorita were still there. Except after a few seconds, Chikorita disappeared. “You lost.” Mew informed me, “Although they aren’t your friend anymore anyways… You left them, remember?” Mew giggled, “Let’s play some more! Meet me at the Iceberg Zone!” And with that, flew off, presumably towards the mentioned zone.

    I wasn’t really feeling up to hanging out in the Meadow Zone any longer, so I ran as fast as I could to the Meeting Place with a pack of zombies trailing behind me. When I arrived, I saw it had been spared no mercy. The huge tree house that used to stand in the center was now a pile of twigs and broken planks, crushed by a gigantic boulder, a few bodies trapped underneath as well. The gates to the other Zones and all other structures were torn or burned down as well.

    Thankfully as I walked around here, the dead didn’t rise to life and chase me. Because of this though, this place seemed more like a desolate graveyard. It actually made me feel a little gloomy, so I pressed on to the Beach Zone. Of course the Drifblim at the Drifblim stop were nowhere to be seen, so I had to walk by foot everywhere.

    The beach was no better off than anywhere else. The stark white sand contrasted with the depressing grey sky. The water had bodies floating in it, tainting parts of the ocean red. The palm trees drooped low to the ground, as if the smallest gust of wind would bowl them over. There were zombies here just as in the Meadow Zone, still after my throat.

    I let one of the zombies reach Pikachu and defeat him, just to see what would happen. A Corphish clawed and pounded at Pikachu with no mercy, until he fell over, unmoving. “How do you like being used and left behind?” It spoke, then crawled off. Pikachu laid in a pool of his own life blood for a minute, which then melted into two, three, four… It ended with me restarting the Wii. Thankfully I restarted at the same spot on the beach as where I was last, this time alive and breathing.

    After taking measure to maul a Corphish, I sprinted across the beach to where the Lapras resided. Its skin was cracked and rotten, with some nasty looking liquid oozing out. Its shell was decayed and weathered, barely recognizable. Its head hung low, and for a brief moment, I thought it was dead just like the other Pokémon. As I approached though, a cut scene triggered, and it raised its head to speak,

    “…You’ve come back, have you? A little too late for that, I’m afraid… Since you’ve cared enough to arrive, though, might as well try to fix what can be saved…” It bowed it’s head once more, and Pikachu hopped onto its back, a little unenthusiastic about the procedure. It sailed towards the Iceberg Zone, although I couldn’t help but wonder if the Lapras would actually make it that far.

    When the screen faded to black, a few speech bubbles popped up in the darkness, presumably from the Lapras,

    “…When they attack you, they don’t mean it.
    They’re just sad, angry, restless, frustrated…
    They just want things back to normal…
    We all do…”

    After which, we reached our destination. At the new Zone, the ice was cracked and broken in several areas, making it difficult to maneuver through. The living dead here were frostbitten, almost like they’d been frozen alive. The huge snow Piplup and igloos were in shambles. The ice tree was broken too, many Pokémon impaled on its spikes. After several frustrating minutes of maneuvering through the tricky landscape, I made it to what used to be Empoleon’s attraction.

    This time, Piplup was there to greet me, beat up beyond all belief and still adorning grey eyes. “Help me.” once again being the only words it spoke. Mew then floated down and asked, “Ready to play?”. Pikachu was still the only Pokémon I could select.

    Thankfully this attraction wasn’t as grotesque as the previous. Pikachu slid down the icy ramp to the goal as normal, although the ice was cracked from several large stones in numerous areas, making it difficult to traverse. Constantly slipping on several patches of blood from the Pokémon crushed underneath the boulders didn’t help either. Eventually I made it to the goal, with probably the slowest record possible.

    Piplup disappeared just as Chikorita had. “You lost.” Mew told me once more, “Although they aren’t your friend anymore anyways… You left them, remember?” Mew paused to giggle once again, “Let’s play some more! Meet me at the Lava Zone!” And then, was gone.

    I painfully made my way back to Lapras, and was actually thankful to board its horrid figure than remain in the broken icy landscape. Once we made it back to the Beach Zone, however, the Lapras washed up onto the sand and laid stark still. It wouldn’t stir again so matter how much I tried talking to it, or hitting it with a lightning bolt. Personally, never visiting the Iceberg Zone again didn’t upset me very much.

    After much running and zombie chasing, I found myself in the Cavern Zone. Most of the tunnels were caved in by piles of boulders. Many of the rocks had decaying hands from crushed Pokémon reaching out from underneath, feebly grasping for Pikachu. I made caution to avoid getting caught by one of the hands.

    Eventually after some aimless wandering, I found where the hot spring used to be. The water was even more sickly green than usual, with some vile substances floating around in it I’d rather not know about.

    The Snorlax was still asleep in the middle of the springs too. Except its hands, feet, and other parts of its body that were submerged under the acid-like water were morphed into a melted clump of goo. Pus oozed out of its empty eye sockets, mouth, and through several cracks running along its wrinkly skin. It looked more like a fleshy, rotting tub of goo than a Pokémon.

    The thing that disturbed me the most though was the fact it was still breathing.

    I wasn’t eager to join Snorlax, so I continued my trek through the cave. There wasn’t any further sign of life, except the occasional straggling Zubat or two that still wanted me dead. I finally made it to the gate that lead into the Lava Zone, but as I approached the mine cart that lead into it Mawile walked up behind me.

    She looked pale and bruised, although not enough to be a zombie. Vines grew around the snake-mouth attached to her head like a muzzle, keeping it clamped shut. The snake-mouth looked infected and swollen, with blood seeping out of its tightly shut mouth. “What are you doing here..?” She spoke, then glanced at the mine cart, then back to Pikachu with a look of understanding, “…Going alone is suicide.”

    Pikachu and Mawile hopped into the mine cart, and it slowly started rolling past the gate. When the screen faded to black though, speech bubbles started popping up, presumably from the Mawile,

    “Things have changed since you left us.
    Without you nobody was able to keep Mew in check.
    Then it fell.
    And when it fell, we all fell down with it.
    You can’t change what damage has already been done, and there’s no further damage to prevent.
    Why don’t you save yourself while you still can?”

    Afterwards, we arrived in the Lava Zone. Many places were still caved in. Parts of the ground were cracked, lava bubbling up from underneath. The undead here were melting as they walked. Their skin bubbled and dripped off their bones, collecting in pools on the floor. Skeletons and skulls littered the floor, presumably from Pokémon that had completely melted away. There were several zombie Pokémon here, and some of them managed to reach Pikachu. Whenever one did though, Mawile helped fight them off, acting sort of like a body guard.

    After some wandering, a cut scene triggered when we neared the edge of a large pit. The camera panned over the edge to view dozens, maybe even hundreds, or corpses filling up the hole. The bodies were melded and morphed into each other, creating an unidentifiable mass of flesh.

    Pikachu stood near the edge of the pit, and Mawile walked up towards him, “This is where we stored all the bodies that didn’t have a grave. Eventually there were so many bodies, all the lava that was previously in the pit was soaked up by them.” She put a hand on Pikachu’s shoulder, “Don’t be one of them.”

    Some traveling and slaying later, we found Blaziken’s attraction. Charmander was here this time, worn down and grey eyed, pleading with, “Help me.” Except when Mew asked if I was ready to play, Mawile stepped in front of Pikachu with, “I am.” On the character selection screen, Mawile was the only one I was able to select.

    Mawile stood on the cliff looking over the lava, adjacent from the other cliff where Mew floated with the canon. Lava filled the crater between the two cliffs, molten hands reaching out from the depths that tried to grasp for Mawile and Mew.

    The canon fired. Instead of boulders though, skulls and bones flew out towards Mawile. I swung and she easily blocked them with her snake-mouth. Progressively, though, more and more larger skeletons were being fired more frequently, and more than once Mawile was knocked down before I could react in time. At the end, I was just 500 points short of the goal.

    Instead of a “You lost” screen, Mew fired another skull, which knocked out Mawile. This time though, she didn’t get up. It left the attraction game and went back to Pikachu. Charmander disappeared as per protocol, alongside Mew’s, “You lost. Although they aren’t your friend anymore anyways… You left them, remember?” This time, I felt more like Mew’s words were directed towards Mawile, who was laying on the ground in front of the attraction, unmoving. Mew giggled, “Let’s play again! Meet me at the Haunted Zone!” And then fled.

    I walked over to Mawile and tried speaking to her, and was faintly surprised when she actually responded, “Leave now… Don’t come back.” I tried speaking to her again, and she actually said something different, “Please… Save yourself…” Again, “…” Once more just to make sure she had nothing else important to say,

    “You know, when you left… everyone missed you.
    I missed you.

    Everyone still misses you.”

    With that, Mawile stopped breathing, and became unresponsive regardless of how much I tried talking to her again. This was the first death in this game so far that actually genuinely upset me. Figuring there wasn’t much point in trying to bring the dead back to life, especially considering she’d probably turn into a zombie that would try to kill me, I left. The travel back out of the Lava and Cavern zones was a bit more challenging than entering, Pikachu dying on several occasions without a body guard, but eventually I made it out.

    The Haunted Zone was desolate and decrypted. All statues and things that once stood were torn down and broken. Unusual rocks and boulders were here too, just as the other Zones. The mansion itself had holes in its roof, and it looked like several rooms had been burned down.

    The main thing I noticed as I walked outside the mansion was there were no Pokémon in sight: dead or alive. It was a little relieving to be able to walk at normal pace without threat of being mauled.

    Inside, it appeared to be more of an abandoned mansion than one that was haunted. Moonlight filtered through holes in the roof. The walls and floor were cracked, and several doors were burned and furniture broken. As I surveyed the area, I would catch glimpses of ghostly Pokémon at the outskirts of the screen or turning corners at the end of hallways. Of course whenever I tried to chase after them, they were gone.

    Mew didn’t appear at Dusknoir’s attraction, so I assumed I was supposed to go to Rotom’s. When I went into the underground lab, I found Mew floating there. This time there wasn’t another one of Pikachu’s old friends there to be put at stake. I walked up to speak to Mew, who laughed, not giggled, and asked once more, “Ready to play?”

    Pikachu was once again my only option. He stood in the middle of the room, ready to fight off the ghosts that would soon start pouring in. When the first ghost appeared though, it was an actual spirit, not a ghost type like normal. It was a Buneary like the one in the Meadow Zone. I shot the ghost Buneary, and immediately another ghost appeared, this time a Corphish. A ton of Pokémon, mainly ones I had seen as zombies, were flying in. Three of the most noticeable ghosts that caught my attention were the Lapras, Snorlax, and Mawile. It took all I could to fend them off. There were too many though, and in almost no time at all, they captured Pikachu.

    “You lost. Although, they aren’t your friends anymore anyways… You left them, remember?” This time, I knew Mew meant all the Pokémon in the Poképark when he spoke. “…It’s time for you to go.” Mew than proceeded to fly off, to who knows where.

    Without any sense of direction, I wandered around aimlessly, not sure what to do next. I was expecting some sort of grand ending more than a Pokémon telling me off. I felt like there was something more, so I headed out to the last zone I hadn’t ventured to yet: The Granite Zone.

    This place was even more damaged than the other zones, if that were possible. The ancient ruins were in, well, ruins. Columns and structures were broken and scattered all about, and it didn’t help it was already damaged before whatever happened tore down the land. The undead were easy to fend off, and before I knew it, I was in the Flower Zone.

    The grass and flowers here were grey and wilted, trying to thrive on the few sparse rays of sunshine filtering through the heavy clouds. There weren’t any dead bodies here. The only colorful, living thing was the Gracidea Flower, and the beaten-but-breathing Shaymin standing next to it. “This flower is our symbol of salvation… it’s the only thing I have left to live for.” It informed me.

    I walked over to where Rayquaza’s attraction once was to find Chikorita, Piplup, Charmander, and Mew in front of it. As I approached them, Pikachu’s three old friends surrounded him. From each, a Water Gun, Razor Leaf, and Flamethrower were simultaneously fired at him. Pikachu tottered, then fell over on his side into the decaying foliage, not breathing. “You should’ve ran while you still could.” Mew teased, giggling.

    The screen faded to black, then back, and I found myself on the Sky Pavilion. The floating ruins in the sky looked as if it was broken into a million shards, and pieced back together haphazardly. There was dense fog, making it difficult to see after a few feet. Everything visible though was grey, rugged, and devastated, including Pikachu. I walked around, trying to trigger something, but nothing happened. Eventually though, I found Mew floating among the rubble, and spoke to it,

    “…When you first came here, you did everything you could to repair the Sky Prism, to save the Poképark.” Mew turned around to face away from Pikachu here, “…I broke the Sky Prism in the first place, so someone would come here, and be my friend. You promised you would be my friend. That was all I ever wanted, just one friend, just one…”

    Mew turned back around, and several blue shards started to fly around him. “But you left. You left me, you left everyone, and never returned. So I broke the Sky Prism, and made sure no one recovered it, so the Sky Pavilion would crash down on everyone…” Mew started to fly off, with a few parting words spoken for the final time, “You lost. Although, I’m not your friend anymore anyways… You left me, remember?”

    Before he left though, he turned to say one more thing, “Have fun enduring the loneliness I had to suffer. This is my park now.” And finally flew off the screen, into the fog.

    I chased after him, but only ran into the edge of the floating ruins, and would’ve tumbled right over had there not been an invisible wall to save me. I ran all around the Sky Pavilion multiple times, until I pretty much had an entire map of the place mentally programmed into my brain and knew where I was going, despite the fog. Eventually, I gave up at finding anything or a way out.

    Turning the game off and resetting could never get me out of that cursed place. Every time I got bored and played that game just to see if something would happen, I’d always still be stuck at that place, lost in the fog for eternity. Sometimes though, Mew would drop by and pay me a visit. But every time I spoke to him, he would always say the same words,

    “I won.”

  17. elizabeth

    Ok. I’m writing a scary story for English,but, I know nothing about horror. But,I started with this

    I look stare at the basement door. My mother has told me to go for some box she needs labeled clothes for donations. I don’t like the basement. It’s dark,and, I hate the dark. I never go out at night. Why would I? My mom doesn’t get why I am so afraid of the dark. I tried to explain,but, she still doesn’t get it. I take a deep breath. I feel like somebody’s watching me so I turn around,but, see no one. So I turn again to look at the door. I start to open the door when I hear footsteps. Footsteps coming from… the basement! I scream and run down the hallway to the kitchen.
    “Mom!” I scream. I look around the kitchen but I don’t see her.
    “Honey, i’m here,” I spin around and see my mother behind me. She is dressed in black with eyes that are usually brown, black. I shiver, she looks so unhuman. But it’s probably because she is standing in the hallway,which, is dark.
    “Mom, I-” I stop. She was in the kitchen a while ago. How is she suddenly behind me? “How long have you been standing there? Weren’t you in the kitchen?”

  18. Evelie Companion

    I am a writer visiting this site for a mystery book series. My biggest fear has to be the darkness. even though i know monsters arent real they still seem to haunt me when i go to sleep. So i’m thinking…Are they really fake..?
    Evanna woke up to the scratching on her closet door. She always heard it. Her feet touched the cold floor. Her heart was racing as she walked towards the closet. She had never done this before, but she had been having a very tiring night and just wanted it to shut up.

    Inside was a dog. It was a purple poodle but it had glowing red eyes and sharp teeth. it came growling and barking at her as she screamed slamming the closet door and running through the dark house. Nobody saw her again.

  19. Ivy Moorjani

    As we walked into the new house, I got a strong sense that something was not right. I knew my parents wouldn’t believe me if I said something bad happened here because why would they want to listen to a 17 year old girl? Going further into the house, I started to feel very unhappy. Almost as if something was making me feel sad. I blew the feeling off and started bringing boxes into the basement. I was bringing my last box down, walking passed the cellar when I saw someone walk in there. Immediately, my heart started to race. I set the box down and made my way towards the cellar. The closer I got, the more I noticed a scent of rotting meat. “Hello?” I said in a small voice as I opened the door. As soon it opened, I saw blood all on the ground and the walls, carcasses of dead animals hanging from the ceiling. I started to feel sick, but then I felt scared. Scared of something that was in there. I bolted out of the cellar, and ran upstairs to get my mom and dad. “Mom! Dad!” I screamed, “There’s something in the cellar!” I waited a few seconds and heard nothing. “Mom!” I called out again. Still nothing. I searched all around the house, until I got to their room and heard the sounds of gushing and slurping. I opened the door and saw the most horrifying image I had ever seen before. My parents we’re being eaten alive by grotesque, animal looking humans that were painted with blood and had long black, uncombed hair. As soon as I started screaming, a hand came behind me, covered my mouth, and pulled me back.

  20. Emma H.

    I’ve read too many stories of when people have apparently instantly time travelled against their own will. I always got wondering what would happen if they were put in a perilous situation. I may have written for a bit longer than 15 though, lol. Horror/Thriller/Scary genres aren’t my forte either.

    Fear: Chronohodophobia – The Fear of Time Travel
    (Primarily instantaneous Time Travel, where you have no control over it.)

    It was a bright, shiny day in New Orleans, where a young man walks through the streets towards his brand new home. It was an absolutely beautiful home: it was multi-storied, a nice plain grey in color with many windows, a balcony surrounding the entirety of the second floor, and on top of everything, it was cheap. Rowan had no clue as to why such an elegant home was so cheap, especially in somewhere as prestigious and fun-filled as New Orleans.
    Rowan stuck his hands into his black jeans, tugging out the keys to his new home. He fingered through the many keys, as some were to his old apartment, his car, his mailbox, and a few more. He found the key he needed, and he stuck the key into the door’s lock. The brown haired man opened the door and walked inside himself.
    The home was already furnished, with decorations from the Victorian Era all over the many rooms. It looked as if someone extremely prosperous had lived there. Rowan pondered on why this person didn’t send the manor down through generations. He began to wander around his brand new home. He climbed up some stairs. He saw many artifacts on display, but he briefly forgot that the house was a museum briefly.
    Rowan stopped in his tracks as his mind wandered to the concept of his new home once being a museum. He completely forgot the reason why, or who the museum was for. Why would a former museum be, not only sold as a house, but cheap? This made the man a little nervous. He disregarded this feeling, and found his way to his main room where he’d sleep. He wanted to try spend a night in the home before moving in everything from his apartment.
    The room had an aesthetic of dark grey and white, with the bed looking just as luxurious as the rest of the home. Rowan walked towards the windows of the room and looked out, but found that he couldn’t see much of the outside world. He saw that it was covered by a multitude of cobwebs, dust, water, and dirt. He sighed, as cleaning the home would be the hardest time of his life.
    The light that did sneak in indicated that it was early evening. Rowan sighed, as he knew that he had yet to explore the third floor and the attic. He walked out of the bedroom and back down the stairs. Rowan took a step outside to get a breath of fresh air. The air swelled into his face as he opened the front door, and he closed it behind him. He leaned his back against the door, and looked up at the sky.
    “Oi,” Rowan heard a man say towards him. Rowan glanced in the man’s direction. The man was certainly older in appearance. The man hobbled towards him. “So you’re the new owner, eh? Of this…” the man drifted off, as if he didn’t know how to describe it’s elegance. “I guess freakshow would be the word.” Rowan tilted his head in visible confusion.
    “What do you mean by that? The house is absolutely beautiful,” Rowan spoke.
    “You don’t know?” The man seemed genuinely surprised. “It was Madame Lalaurie’s home once.” Rowan didn’t know who that was, but he did reply to the man.
    “Okay… your point is?” Rowan pushed forwards. The old man looked at him, still genuinely surprised.
    “She was…” the old man began, but he stopped. “Never mind, I suppose ignorance is bliss in this case. Maybe the Madame will go gentle with you.”
    “Does someone else live in the house right now?”
    “You, and who knows what else.”
    “Why did the home become a museum?”
    “You’re a youngin’, use one of your dang smartphones and internet.”
    “Why is it a home again?”
    “May I just…” the man seemed annoyed now. “Leave?” Rowan sighed.
    “Fine.” The old man thus departed, and Rowan pulled his phone out from his back pocket. He groaned as he realized the phone was dead. He stormed back into the manor. He went back to the room, and climbed into bed. He was admittedly tired. Curling up, he fell right asleep.
    He awoke to the noise of an ear piercing screech in the night. Panic flying through his heart, he rushed out of the bed and out into the hallway. He heard a woman’s cackle to the left of him. Slowly, Rowan inched his way towards the voices he had heard. His arms were raised in ready for a fight. He made small glances around the hallway. The artifacts were all gone, or all put away.
    Rowan was visibly confused now; he had done no cleaning before he stormed inside and gone to sleep. He reached the end of the hallway, where a door was cracked open. Breathing slowly, he pushed the door open a little more. What he saw was a ghastly site. Blood, internal organs, and two people. One was a much rounder, and richer looking woman. Her hands were completely bloodied. On the floor, and the one who likely screeched, was an African American man, who seemed dressed as a slave back in the eighteenth century.
    Rowan was visibly confused, was this something more adult than he thought? Did the home house a cult? He was extremely unsure. The woman then turned around to face in his direction. Her mouth was clean, meaning she hadn’t been eating the poor man. Well, as far as he knew, she wasn’t eating him yet. The woman stared him directly in the eyes. “So, the invader has decided to join us!” The woman exclaimed, her eyes were absolutely crazed. Her voice was raspy, yet sharp.
    “Who are you? Why are you in my house?” Rowan demanded, his fists still held up in preparation of a fight. The woman was not visibly armed at the moment.
    “Your house? Hm… no. This is my house. I am Madame Lalaurie, I suppose, your host, and now, your hunter.”
    “What year is it?” Rowan asked. He knew that the house was old, and that there was only one owner.
    “Why, it’s 1812! Even a dumb invader would know that.” Rowan froze. He had been in 2018. It was now 1812. His heart sunk as he realized that he had gone back in time. He stared at his hands in pure fear of never going home. The woman slowly made her way towards him, and before Rowan could leap away, he was pinned down, and he felt a searing pain in his stomach before everything went back.
    “Today’s chronicle, read all about it! New owner of Madame Lalaurie’s home goes missing on the first night! Brand new blood stains found in the main hallway, bedroom, other room, and walls. Second person this week! No body actually found, just like the last one!” A young man shouted, carrying many newspapers in his hands. The old man hobbled towards the man, and took one. He sighed, and gave the man his paper back.

  21. Amy

    I am definitely not good at witing horror, but here you go. I am pretty sure there a multiple errors but it’s late for me and I have a broken keyboard.
    She comes down the stairs that lead to the basement, experiencing a strange feeling. The lights weren’t working so she had to use a flashlight to aid her down them. At the end of the stairs where there was a turn to lead further down the basement, there was a small flickering light, a candle perhaps.There was light chuckling coming from what sounded like a man, who she assumed was her fiancé, as he was not in bed when she woke up in the middle of the night. There was a weird, sickening sound of something splashing onto the floor that made her halt in her movements
    There was a strong metallic stench in the air that caused her recoil back. As soon as she step down onto the basement floor, there is a squelch under her shoe. The darkness from the basement makes her panic and once more she tries the lightswitch. The faint candlelight allowed her to see movement and she swallows a scream. She wanted to run, her heart pacing as whatever horror comes closer.
    Once it arrives, it wears such a familiar face that she just wants to sob. “Abigail.” It speaks in a soft voice and raises its hands toward her to caress her face. The metallic stench follows it’s hands and she’s forced to look at her lover. His once white shirt was smeared with gore, causing that nauseating stench with him. She remembers earlier that day she had chosen it for him to wear to work.
    “Why are you down here? You aren’t supposed to be down here.” His voice gentle, as if he was speaking to a child.
    “I-I” She stutters, “Why-” She shuts her mouth close as she noticed how bad she was shaking.
    Isaac reached down to grab at her hand and held it in his. “Hey, it’s okay. There is nothing wrong. Is everything okay?” She looks up at him and shakes her head wildly, taking steps back from him, wanting to be as far as away as possible. Her back hits the wall and once more she hits the light switch, needing the reassurance of what was happening.
    Poor yellow lightning fills the room and she falls to the floor with no relief. Her fingers colid with a strange texture and her breath hitches. Her mind can’t process what she is looking at, shutting down.
    Strangely chopped organs are piled on one part of the floor, somewhat cleanly removed from their home. What looked like a heart and intestines piled near the small sink, were clean and she noted the water drops dripping from the fountain. WHen she turns her head back at her love, she realizes that the rest of the room was covered in blood and gore, painting the floor and walls. As Isaac moved to get closer to her, she notices their missing kitchen knife.
    As he blends down next to her on the floor, he gives her a concerned look, the same one he gives her when she’s stressed. “Are you okay?’
    Suddenly filled with panic, she jerks herself away from him. She wants to sob and cling to him, hoping that it was all a bad dream. They were supposed to be planning the next big part of their life together. But with the blood coating her fiancé’s hands, she supposed that wasn’t going to happen.
    As her breaths became shallower, they sped up and she notices the burning from her eyes. She brings a hand up to her chest to clutch it against her poor heart. Her vision goes blurry and she lets a sob escape. Looking up at Isaac, he gives her a look of pity before he reaches down and hugs her.
    “Hey, it’s going to be alright. I’m not going to hurt you.” He holds her tight and she chooses to ignore the feeling of blood seeping through from where his touch was. For some reason, she didn’t want to pull away, to stay and let him comfort her. But by doing so, felt like chains keeping her in place.

  22. Nathan Knox

    I am writing a scary story at school. I am wondering if I use it right, use paranoia to disarm a reader then throw a shocking end that bring a strong psychological emotion?

  23. Taylor buniff

    I wrote my story on a word document and my story is called “ BEHIND THE WALLS OF BLACK PAINT” it’s about a girl name Aria and her brother,mom,dad. Aria moves into a new house because she in college but the college doesn’t have dorm rooms so she going to live with her family. When she gets to the house she feels like something is watching her and like weird things are happening. Aria and her brother are witnessing ghost or demons but they don’t know what it is.. Aria keeps seeing this big black shadow figure and she thinks when she try’s to go to sleep someone or something is watching her sleep… Aria brother starts to ask her questions that are kinda weird but she also ask him questions too but there’s a twist she said she will give him questions then tell him the truth about the house.. when Aria tells her brother the truth about the house he doesn’t know what to say about it but he wants to tell mom and dad.. after they were done talking about that aria heard a noise it came from the living room there was a huge mess but it a pot twist there was a shadow person right in front of there eyes so they both ran to Aria room when they got there that shadow person followed them upstairs.. they thought it was there parents but there parents weren’t home…



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