Writing a compelling horror story can be a challenge, but it’s certainly possible. When crafting a spine-chilling narrative, you should include some essential elements to create a successful horror story.
Horror fiction is a genre that seeks to evoke feelings of dread, horror, and terror in the reader. It is often centered around dark and mysterious themes such as the supernatural, violence, death, and the unknown. Horror fiction has existed since antiquity, appearing in ancient folklore and legends.
The last fish in the world said nothing. It had been alive for so long that it had seen all the creatures of the sea slowly disappear. It swam through the murky depths, alone and silent, its scales reflecting the dim light of the deep. It had seen the destruction of its home, the pollution, the overfishing that took away its friends and family. It had nothing left to say. It simply continued to swim, a noiseless witness to the destruction of its species.
No one knows where this last fish went. It is likely a tiny, elusive creature that managed to evade capture. Scientists never observed the last fish in the world, but its existence is acknowledged by all the wise ones. It is a symbol of fragility. The last fish in the world will never be seen by you, me, or anyone else. But if by some miracle you happen to see the world’s last fish, consider yourself a blessed one who will live a very long life.
A cold ground and thunder rumbling outside. All darkness at first and no memory of how I’d gotten here. Chilly air and damp.
I called out into the darkness but got no response. I saw what looked to be an old Zippo lighter by my side. I used it to faintly illuminate the room.
I am in prison, but the cell door is wide open.
They say sometimes we have dreams like this, though they could be better called nightmares. Perhaps they are nightmares embedded within nightmares in the subconscious, sleeping world. I have no memory of my life; everything is a blank slate, pale and grayish. The only images playing in my mind are of shadowy figures like ghosts. Though I see no one in this prison, I hear echoes of voices. They’re whispers, so I follow them. They say, “You deserve this,” and “The time is now for your punishment.”
The prison is expansive, set up like a labyrinth. I walk through the corridors and rows of cells, lost. It feels as though I’m wandering in circles. I follow the echoes of the voices. “Come closer,” they whisper. The thunder continues to rumble outside, and brief flashes of lightning that illuminate the prison’s interior. The whispers turn to deeper voices like growling. Then, the barking of dogs, loud, deep barks from vicious chained-up dogs. I can tell they’re chained up because I hear the chains rattle in the nighttime air.
No moon in the sky outside through the windows. My eyes adjust to the darkness so I can see better, but there’s not much to see. Despite the sounds, there still appears to be no one here.
My stomach twists with anxiety. Goosebumps on my arms. The clanging of steel now sounds in the distance. Memories are coming back, not like a flood of them, but little pieces here and there. Memories of a physical struggle, of looking down into the ashen face of a pale man on the concrete. His eyes are the purest light blue, and his smile is devious. He says, “Kill me, you bastard.” Memories of me holding a handgun and the steel’s coldness in my hands.
But it’s all mixed up. The man is on the ground, and his face has changed. The skin is green now, and the tongue is reptilian. The eyes are a deep yellow, and the teeth are sharp like fangs. There’s a crowd encircled around us, watching, cheering. There’s my mother crying, my dead father sleeping and levitating.
I am still walking the prison corridors, listening to noises. When I hit a dead end, the walls start closing in. Just when it appears as if there’s nowhere to go, a heavy door opens and hits me with a blinding red light.
He is a black, nebulous creature with wings. He has no face to speak of, and his body is not humanoid. It is more like a reptilian bird. I know this is GOD, though, for some reason. Something tells me it is.
I wait for the thing to speak while it flaps its wings. Then, the creature, GOD, opens its terrible, cavernous mouth and lets out the most horrible sound I could ever imagine. It blows me backward and pierces my bleeding eardrums until it makes me deaf and mute. The sound continues unabated, and the pressure in my brain keeps getting worse until it suddenly stops.
Everything is in complete darkness again. A garden has formed in this small room, filled with radiant blue flowers. A garden of the night within the prison walls. I fall asleep, I think, but I awake in the garden again.
There is no escaping this place. This is my home now, for eternity. Whatever punishment must come, it doesn’t matter. Whether I am cursed or blessed, I do not know. I know nothing anymore. Nothing but pain.
Flash fiction is a fun genre to write. It’s also great for WordPress blogs because it’s short and it packs a punch. A genre of very short stories, flash fiction, is growing more popular by the day. Writing a good story in just a few hundred words can seem daunting, but the rewards of crafting an engaging story with a few well-chosen words can be immense.
Flash Fiction is a type of short story, typically no more than 1000 words, focusing on a specific moment in time. It’s a way to tell a complete story within such a small word count. Character development is often limited, with most stories having only one or two characters, and the story’s plot is usually succinct. This type of writing creates a vivid snapshot of the moment, often including emotional impact or dramatic action. As such, flash fiction authors need to find ways to effectively capture the reader’s attention quickly while also conveying their intended message concisely.
The sky was a deep, dark red, and the clouds were thick and black. Lightning flashed across the sky, and thunder roared like a demon. The wind was strong and fierce, the rain was heavy and unrelenting. The ground shook and trembled, and the darkness was intense as night had fallen. The air was filled with howling and the smell of sulfur and ash.
I am reminded of my sins and the wrath of my deadness. The burning of dreams and the infernal existence of going astray. My counterparts here have crooked smiles and welcome me. “What is it you’re looking for in this place?” the fiendishly ugly man yells. “I don’t know.” Remove your face and listen to the storm winds of Hell. Remove your innocence and relent.
I was embraced by the warmth of the winter fire. The heat was intense and comforting, and I was wrapped in a blanket of warmth. The fire consumed me, but I felt safe and secure in its embrace. I could feel the heat radiating off the flames as they licked at my skin. I was part of the fire, and it was a part of me. The winter fire was a solace, and I thought I could stay there forever.
The flames symbolized strength and resilience, and I was empowered by its presence. The winter fire consumed me, and I was alive and connected with the world. No amount of scalding skin and brutal screams could take away this feeling of fiery bliss. Death by fire, death by comfort, a heated oblivion.
Hibernating weird cold winter smells Laid her hand on the winter moon Everyone she sealed behind the curtain And the ghastly stifled screaming Drained her lovely face, delightful dismay She gazed on the old moon as her fate And slipped into dreaming states
Cold wind encloses my bleeding face Seemed a new image in the brushwood night And the mercy queen with her blue lips Rosy with smile, and sugar from the snow A frozen kiss and dazzling glow of light Spreads the fresh future to its gown of dread Lay me down and smash my head While the bright wave in emerald tones Kill me softly and break my jawbones
The dying man with no eyes talked to me in an outlandish way. His face was melting, and his eyes were missing, leaving me excited. I couldn’t understand why he was talking to me like that. It was almost as if he was trying to communicate something, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. Perhaps he was trying to tell me something about his life, or maybe he was trying to warn me of something. Whatever the reason, his words were astonishing, and his face melted away. His no-eyed gaze seemed to be watching me, and I stared into the colorful kaleidoscope void of his dying face.
He melted into nothingness. His body disintegrated as his essence dissipated into the air, leaving no trace of his existence. He had no control over the process and no way to stop the melting, the breakdown, and the fading of all meaning. His life had ended, and he was powerless to stop it. His body evaporated until nothing was left, and he was gone, leaving no evidence that he had ever been there or that such a man of his caliber had ever walked foot on this jilted planet. All that remained was a memory quickly transferred and uploaded into my skull, which tasted delicious.
My head exploded into a billion pieces. I was surrounded by a mixture of colors that seemed to be emanating from my brain. I felt a strange forcefield like I was being held in an energy bubble. I felt as if I was being transported to a different realm, and my mind was filled with knowledge I had never known before. I could feel the power of the colors and the forcefield, and I knew I had tapped into something singular. I was filled with a newfound sense of understanding, and the colors seemed to guide me on a journey of self-discovery.
I woke up on a new planet, and the colors were unlike anything I had ever seen. The sky was bright pink, and the grass was a deep purple. I was filled with orgasmic thoughts as I explored the new landscape, taking in all the sights and smells. As I walked around, I noticed new tastes as well. The air was sweet and tangy, and the plants had a hint of spice. I was filled with wonder as I took in the beauty of my new home. Everything seemed alive and vibrant. I couldn’t help but smile as I realized I was the only one there.