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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.

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 2

The Veiled Lady

Rae Edie

Weekly Contest #377

The throat is a delicate thing, but it’s not the worst place I’ve ever gotten a tattoo. Foot is the worst. By far. Especially the top of the foot and the ankle. My sister tried to argue that ribs hurt more, but when I asked which one she’d rather get covered, she shut right up. So that settled that. I don’t even plan on getting my feet touched up, we’re just going to let those fade into oblivion. Throat is definitely more nerve-wracking though. At least with my feet I knew the artist had those suckers pinned down hard enough I couldn’t even ...

6 likes

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The Previous Owner

Scott Taylor

Weekly Contest #377

The tag said $6.99 and GENUINE VINTAGE and, in pen, in someone's cramped handwriting, "do not sell." Marguerite bought it anyway, because the Halloween party was in four hours and because the Goodwill on Delmar had nothing else in a women's twelve that wasn't a sexy Minion. It was a scarecrow costume. Not a cute one. Burlap tunic, patches sewn on by hand with thread the color of old teeth, straw actually stitched into the cuffs so it poked out at the wrists like something trying to escape. The mask was the real find: burlap again, with butt...

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Dinner Is Served

Hannah Fogg

Weekly Contest #377

Kynga tried to open her eyes but failed. She felt empty. Starving. Master hadn’t fed them in so long. Perhaps, tonight… Kynga pulled one of her arms up with a loud screech of the joints. Her tattered white fingers reluctantly found closed eyes on her face. They struggled to pull the eyelids apart. Kynga let out an exhausted moan as she felt her broken nails get inside the eye socket – and forced her left eye open. The House was dark, even more dead than Kynga. She looked around. There should be two of them. Shouldn’t it? “Qendra?” Kynga whis...

4 likes

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The Brothers Paranormal - Season 03 - Episode 08 - Stained Glass

Michael Jack

Weekly Contest #377

“So everyone just deals with this shit-stain house on their street?” said Juice. He put on the breaks and the van came to a squeaky halt right in front of the said object of humanely waste. “Who wants to touch this house after all that happened inside of it, let alone fix it up, not me.” Said Jack. He looked at it with scrunched face. “Well ya, but they should just knock it down, no?” Juice replied. “Even destruction costs money brother,” Jack said finally peeling his gaze from the home. Dusk was approaching. “Didn’t Gemma tell us ‘you won’t...

3 likes

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True North

Keith Geaney

Weekly Contest #377

It was a brisk but sunny Saturday, perhaps one of the last of the year. Capt. Alastair Braithwaite took the time to shave meticulously before donning a white shirt that he had starched and ironed the night before, rounded off with a pair of dark blue enamel sea turtle cufflinks. He stood and checked his appearance in the bathroom mirror; for a man of sixty-two, he had a physique that could shame a man twenty years his junior. He plucked the newspaper from the letterbox and set the kettle to boil. If he could finish the cryptic crossword on t...

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The Clock

Tim Baehr

Weekly Contest #377

The Clock For Johnny Hart 1931-2007 On Sunday, Charlie arrived at his clock shop just after dawn. The shop was normally closed on Sundays, and on any other day he chose. When the shop was closed, he often went driving around to yard sales, estate sales, antique fairs, pawn shops—anywhere he might discover and buy an antique clock. But today was not a day for exploring the countryside. Charlie unlocked the grating and rolled it up like a window shade. He unlocked the door and entered to the tinkle of a bell overhanging the door on a flat spri...

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Scarlet red oil paint.

L.M De Bod

Weekly Contest #377

The best stories start with “It was a dare,” but already, this bad idea doesn't look like it's going to make a fun story in the future. We've been dared to spend a night in the abandoned McCain Mansion. A residence from which the town drew its dark side. A place where little children dared each other to run to the front door and touch the brass lion door knocker. “This is so stupid,” I huffed as we marched up the hill with our backpacks stuffed with blankets. “Oh, come on! Don't be such a killjoy. THIS is going to be an adventure,” Kyle ...

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A Thing in the Dark

Savannah Bradley

Weekly Contest #377

Leo had always been the kind of person who couldn’t leave well enough alone. That was why, on a warm Saturday afternoon, he found himself squeezed inside a giant doghouse in the parking lot of the creepiest pet store in the county. “Take a picture!” he called with a massive grin spread across his face. I rolled my eyes. “Get out of there, Leo.” “Why?” “Because, this place gives me the creeps!” Leo laughed and leaned farther out of the oversized doghouse. “It’s a doghouse, Anna. What’s the worst that could happen?” Chloe snorted. “You really ...

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Crack in the Glasses

Sae Luy

Weekly Contest #377

One day, a middle school teacher was wiping his glasses and found a small crack. He was taken aback. He'd always been careful with his glasses so there was just no reason for it to appear. The crack was small and didn't interfere with the view. But the teacher still decided to go to the optician. The next morning, when he put on his glasses, the crack had expanded. "For God's sake! How did this happened during the night?" he muttered to himself, as he was getting ready for work at school. When the next oddity happened, the teacher was walkin...

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The Bottle

Miles Bell

Weekly Contest #377

There was nothing quite like being left alone with a three-month-old in an Airbnb just outside of Denver, where the mountains jutted straight up, towering above the dimly lit two story cottage. I was there with my wife on a work trip. She traveled to restaurant franchises around the country and helped them meet broader corporate standards. She was excellent at the job, and it paid well. And I, well, I was never very good at making money. Hence, baby duty. This was our first child, so a lot was new. The latest challenge had been convincing...

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The Caretaker

AHMED CHOUH

Weekly Contest #377

The front door opened by itself at ten past three, and I was awake for it. I'd been lying there listening to the lake. You don't realize a lake makes noise until you sleep next to one. It sucks at the dock, this wet slapping sound, like somebody licking their fingers. Then the latch lifted. Click. Then the hinge, a long dry creak that went on way longer than a door should. I didn't get up. People always say they'd have gone and looked. I stayed under the quilt, which smelled like cedar and mothballs, and counted to a hundred, twice, because ...

6 likes

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The Weight of October

Angela Marie

Weekly Contest #377

The air in the master bedroom has a taste, though I have not breathed it in a hundred and thirty years. It tastes of dried lavender, copper, and cold, stagnant tallow. When the light dies behind the oak trees outside, I take my place at the foot of the brass bed. It is not the same bed where I spilled my life onto the feather mattress, but the room remembers where mine stood. The floorboards beneath the modern rug still carry the quiet groan of the doctor’s heavy boots and the hysterical rustle of my mother’s black silk skirts. Below, the ...

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The Golden Diamond Trail

Weekly Contest #377

Joey was holding a marshmallow over the campfire on the end of a crooked stick, turning it slowly until one side caught fire. Two girls beside him burst into giggles as he blew frantically at the flames. Across from them, one of the chaperones poured himself another cup of coffee as I started my tale. I had told this story so many times that I could scarcely remember the first telling. Some details had grown hazy, while others remained as clear as if they had happened yesterday. It was the story of the Golden Diamond Trail. And it was my sto...

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The Mezzanine

Weekly Contest #376

Her neck kinked as her body’s natural alarm clock jolted her awake. 5:27am. Today her circadian rhythm was thirty-three minutes off its typical course. She groaned, rubbing the side of her neck that ached with the movement of sitting upright. Reaching across for her phone, she found only the smooth wooden top of her bedside table. That’s strange. Stretching further, she twisted the knob on the lamp she’d bought last week at a garage sale that looked like it was covered in lettuce. The light stung her eyes as her room came into view. She blin...

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Shower Wine

Weekly Contest #376

The first time Sully Joseph heard a voice coming from his shower drain, he blamed the Cabernet. He had consumed most of a bottle before getting into the shower, and the second was balanced on the little ceramic shelf. Sully had standards about his wine. It had to be red, preferably Cabernet Sauvignon, and it had to come in a glass bottle. Boxed wine was for desperate people, and Sully Joseph, despite considerable evidence to the contrary, did not consider himself desperate. He called his nightly ritual shower wine. He turned the water as hot...

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