Can you believe we’re at twenty weeks already? This is the second installment of our month-long horror series. Keep sending those horror submissions in!
Special thanks to Jessica Standifird for her editorial assistance.
by Steve Bishop
At night there were sounds in the walls.
“Don’t worry,” said Mum. “Just an old house cooling.”
But a house doesn’t make footsteps. I made her come and listen, though all was quiet by then. Unconvinced, I investigated further. My bookcase came away from the wall too easily, and with sick inevitability Hardbacks, Ladybirds and Pelicans slipped onto the wooden floor ahead of the gunshot crash. Behind it, a door in the wall, and inside, a grubby crawl-space.
My missing Haribos and torch. A blanket and a creepy looking doll that looked like me. Made with my actual hair.
by Dan Howarth
The train sped on. Bullet sleek and direct. A tunnel yawned ahead, snatching all the light from the world. Artificial table lamps flickered making Wilson look up from his book. His fellow passengers were too engrossed in their phones to notice. The lights snuffled out, plunging the carriage into black. Wilson looked round in panic, breathless. Other passenger’s faces glowed garishly by the light of their tiny screens. Their faces were contorted, strange and bestial with feral eyes and twisted grins. One by one their screens turned off, and in the darkness, Wilson heard them all leave their seats.
by Joseph J. Patchen
Every morning Jack enjoyed two eggs over easy with his bacon, toast and juice. With the skillet sizzling and butter melting, Jack cracked open his eggs only to find two eyes in the yokes glaring back at him. And he knew that they knew what he had done. “What am I thinking?”’ he whispered. Jack ate heartily and laughed out loud, continuing to laugh as he left his apartment and strolled down the street. And that is where they found him: on the street with his eyes pecked out.
The New Girl
by Peter Lacy-Egis
The kids at school were frightened of Katie, dressed in black and with skin so pale even her lips were white. But what was worse, she smelled like rotting flesh. Ella only played with her because her mother said to be nice to the new girl.
Katie insisted they play outside even though it was late. Soon there was a rustling in the brush. Ella went to investigate and stumbled backwards upon seeing a tall dark, robed figure holding a scythe.
“Daddy!” shouted Katie, running toward him as he swung the scythe, pulled her in, and they were gone.
Something’s Wrong with the Cat
by Seth Oden
The Hendersons were still mourning seven months after Mrs. Henderson’s miscarriage. In that time their cat Muffin had gained considerable weight. They debated taking her to the vet, but in their depression they just let it go. Now poor Mittens was bloated to the size of a large watermelon, and lay panting near her water bowl. When Mr. Henderson sat beside the cat, he saw her midsection ripple as though something writhed inside. His hand on her belly, something pushed out from within, causing the cat to mewl loudly as its skin tore, and an infant’s hand reached through.