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Discover weekly, the best short stories

Looking for a steady supply of horror short stories? Every week thousands of writers submit stories to our writing contest.

6480+ Horror Short Stories to read

Submitted by writers on Reedsy Prompts to our weekly writing contest. From hauntings and murderers to terrifying creatures from the deep, our collection of horror stories will have you breaking out in cold sweats. Take a look… if you dare.

Horror Short Stories – Page 5 of 432

The witching hour

Submitted to Contest #297

THE WITCHING HOURMy name is Phillip Richter. I am that Investigator everyone hates. All in your busines type of guy. Not my problem. What is my problem is chasing the truth. No matter how Mundane, the Truth.Let’s Talk about this society of witches and warlocks that rule the earth now. Me and Frederick are the resistance against these evil life draining creatures. How did they come to power you ask? It all started summer of 1982 with “project EGGO”. Yes you heard me correct. These sleazy old hags can only keep their Beauty on the souls of chi...

45 likes 26 comments 26
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Witching Hour

Submitted to Contest #297

Ariel waited for it to happen again. Wondered if the dreams, visions, nightmares, she had been having for months would finally become a reality once more. Sitting in her dark living room, curtains pulled shut, and the front door locked and relocked, she waited. Axe handle clutched tightly between her hands, chin resting on the interlocked fingers, Ariel kept her gaze on the rest of the room. She had been caught unawares last time, stuck in the throes of paranoia and hallucinations brought on by the pneumonia that had gripped her entire body....

5 likes 2 comments 2
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Seconds Bleed: Time Ticks Backward, and You're Next

Submitted to Contest #297

Elliot Voss held a grudge against digital files—they hid their flaws too well—but the unmarked drive begged him to grab it. He tapped his fingers—3-2-1-pause—a nervous tic from years of counting seconds. He’d spotted it at a flea market on a gloomy Saturday, half-buried under a tarp with warped VHS tapes and a busted Walkman, its scuffed shell buzzing faintly in his grip. The vendor, a haggard man with yellowed teeth, gave a lazy shrug. “Dug it out of a dumpster. Five bucks.” Elliot paid cash and brought it back to his apartment, a dim tangl...

9 likes 2 comments 2
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Say Uncle

Submitted to Contest #297

This must be a test. Half-expect someone to come crashing through that door or jump out of our closet. Smile! You’re on Candid Camera. I need someone—anyone—to tell me I’ve been punked. I’m beginning to think I share a house with a lunatic. Friday night, me and the missus are running the bases when the little squirt raps on our door. Bottom of the ninth, he saunters in with a teddy under one arm, rubbing the sleep out of his eye with the other. He tells us the same old sob story. “Mommy, there’s a man in my room,” the kid says. We just abou...

3 likes 0 comments 0
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The First Night of Forever

Submitted to Contest #297

“I can promise youYou'll stay as beautifulWith dark hairAnd soft skinForever...”- The ToadiesTristan held Izzy’s hand as they walked around the lake beneath the dim light of the crescent moon, the bones just beneath her skin seemingly as delicate as those of a baby bird. He gave her palm a light squeeze and she returned it with a tiny smile as they both looked away from one another, out over the still water.“Was he really like they say?” They had been discussing King George in the car on the way out there to Hiawatha Lake. Izzy had a master'...

17 likes 16 comments 16
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The Fool and the Donkey Track IIII

Submitted to Contest #297

TRACK 4 - “Anxiety (in Arpeggio)” - Lewis, Lynsi - The Album (substance abuse, suicidal thoughts, grief, provocative / offensive language, mature themes, etc) She should’ve known better by now. Really, by any general estimates, one would assume that a woman who was no more than four feet eleven inches and 110 lbs would have a good idea of how much alcohol her constitution could handle.Apparently not. So here Lynsi was, splattered across the bar counter, barely able to keep her head up to make conversation with the bartender. How had she foun...

7 likes 0 comments 0
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Echoes of Time

Submitted to Contest #297

Morning at last. The pinkish hue of dawn peeked through the slits in the closed blinds. He thought the night would never end. Each time he was woken from the dream, the room was dark and his clock pointed to a time many hours before daybreak. But he was free at last. He looked at the clock now in the pale light. It read 7:05.Today would be different, he decided. He would leave the apartment. A new kind of determination swept through him as he readied himself for this day. Before leaving, he glanced at the digital clock in the kitchen. 7:50 s...

4 likes 0 comments 0
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Litany.

Submitted to Contest #297

There he is again, running up the hallway and back. I heard him the first time he ran, clomping down the hall like that. So when I poke my head out to look for him, I also decided that now would be a good time to go down to get my mail. But there’s nothing to check on. I look down and up the hallway, no Johnny. What a strange thing. I walk down the hall – careful to watch out for Johnny – and wait for the elevator. I push the button that brings the elevator up. Ding! signals the elevator as it arrives. I step onto the elevator. I am the onl...

4 likes 1 comment 1
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It's About That Time

Submitted to Contest #297

A man and woman exit a restaurant, hand in hand. They walk down a crowded street, snowflakes obscuring the nighttime lights. After making their way to a park, they sit on a bench, the woman leaning into the man. "I had such a good time tonight! Same time next week?" The man smiles, ecstatic that his efforts weren't in vain. "I'd love to." He hugs her, and silence fills the air. Though, that is before a bell tolls. "A bell? I've never heard one around here before." He looks at the woman, whose face has widened in surprise. "Hey, what's wrong...

8 likes 0 comments 0
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Doom Jazz

Submitted to Contest #297

The clocks stopped on November 10th, 1920, at precisely 4:29 PM. Daniel Horatius Triggs first noticed on the heirloom pocket watch he was nearly finished cleaning. The gears inside were still ticking away, steady as a mechanical heartbeat, but the hands remained unmoving. Puzzled, Daniel checked the time against his own wristwatch. If he could figure out how long ago the first timepiece stopped working, he might be able to figure out what had been dislodged to cause the malfunction. Only the wristwatch also read 4:29. The hands of both watch...

9 likes 2 comments 2
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Those Who Must Survive

Submitted to Contest #297

The woman wailed, piercing the near perfect silence of the early hours of the morning. The cry reverberated through the hollow of a burnt out building, echoing its way to empty, broken streets. Two women were jammed into a makeshift partus nest tucked into the corner of a closet on the second floor. Sprawling urbana and a whistling breeze bore through the eroded cement wall, giving them an oddly beautiful vistal view of the remains of a once thriving city while also whisking away the smells of effort, blood, and shit. The chill of Autumn kep...

9 likes 3 comments 3
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Sheila's Night Terror

Submitted to Contest #297

Sheila's eyes fluttered open, her head pounding. The relentless sound of "Tick-tock, tick-tock" reverberated through her mind. "What time is it?", she wondered aloud, her irritation palpable. It was still dark. Sheila rolled over and silenced the offending clock. She cursed under her breath, her headache intensifying. She reached for her iPhone, the screen illuminating the time: 1:30 am. She groaned. The one day she could sleep in, of course, disrupted by this infernal noise. Frustrated, she rolled onto her right side, tucking her hand under...

4 likes 0 comments 0
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EL ULTIMO PEDIDO

Submitted to Contest #297

El restaurante "La Cuchara Feliz" nunca cerraba. No importaba la hora, si llovía o si una tormenta eléctrica hacía temblar el pueblo, siempre había alguien atendiendo. Y aquella noche no era la excepción.Faltaban cinco minutos para la medianoche cuando Marcos, el mesero de turno, se disponía a limpiar la barra. La única clienta era una anciana de cabello blanco, que sorbía lentamente su sopa de cebolla. Justo cuando Marcos pensó que podría cerrar temprano, la campanilla de la puerta sonó.Un hombre alto, con un traje gris algo desgastado y un...

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Midnight Living Room

Submitted to Contest #297

This story contains elements of Mental health, Substance abuse, and Physical violence. The kettle hisses in the dim light of the kitchen. I swiftly pour the steaming liquid into the cups, hurrying because I have a date with a ghost. I am certain, without a shadow of a doubt, that ghosts are real. I am not mad. From a young age, I have been able to see the dead. My grandmother. She perished when I was very young from complications of the heart, they had told me, but I am sure she died from a broken one. My mother broke her heart. She had sto...

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The Witching Hour

Submitted to Contest #297

This thing. This thing materializes from shadow. Its limbs grow and its flesh molds into shape, feeding off of the dark and the shadows. When it’s only 3 hours after midnight, and your eyelids flutter ever so slightly. Never opening wide enough to catch a glimpse of the growing creature in the darkest corner of your bedroom. The minutes drift slowly by. It grows and grows and grows. It’s obsidian arms spiraling all around your room, slithering across the floor and the walls. They hiss against the paint, not loud enough to wake you but loud e...

5 likes 0 comments 0
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