#classic horror story

[tart-miano]

angry that your parody has a degree and you don't, victor

[gothic-allegory]

Nyarlathotep by Álvaro Fernández González

[halloween-sweets]

[bl00dfroma-fairy]

[anotherscrappile]

Here’s a reminder that I have a website where you can read 15 obscure horror stories found in mid-1800’s literary magazines. I’m always searching for more, so check back periodically :D👍

[chinzhilla]

𝔗𝔥𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔶-𝔒𝔫𝔢 𝔇𝔞𝔶𝔰 𝔬𝔣 ℌ𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔬𝔯 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟺

When I was a little girl, this was my favorite book. Which one was your favorite story?

Tales from the Darkside: The Movie (1990) dir. John Harrison

[leonardcohenofficial]

also since it is the season i am on the lookout for any horror novel recommendations folks have! my horror literature taste tends to stray towards the basics (for example—the shining was the first horror novel to actually scare me when i first read it in middle school and it’s remained a fave ever since, have been reading 'salem's lot this fall for the first time and really liked it, etc.) but am always on the lookout for fresh and challenging work; not a huge fan of anything overly gory but otherwise down for pretty much any genre

[cherries-in-wine]

Lolita rant because why not:

WHY DO SOME PEOPLE STILL CALL IT A LOVE STORY WHEN THERE'S LITERALLY A PART WHERE DOLORES ASKS FOR THE NAME OF "the hotel where you first raped me" LIKE EXCUSE ME WHAT PART OF A 12 YEAR GIRL GETTING RAPED AND ABUSED IS ROMANTIC TO YOU??

I cannot stress this enough LOLITA IS PSYCOLOGICAL HORROR. Humbert Humbert is an unreliable narrator that's manipulating and charming YOU into believing it's a love story but it's your responsibility to read in between the lines and realise what's actually going on. How lolita is just a 12 year old girl named Dolores who is isolated, raped and abused throughout the entire book by Humbert Humbert and has no voice in his story.

Even the people behind the lolita movies did not get this they still think of lolita as some sort of seductress which is just disgusting.

I think the reason why people sometimes interpret it as a love story is because of how beautifully it is written. The way Humbert Humbert writes about Lolita is very dreamy and poetic but that's literally the point of the book it's a cautionary tale.

Some people turn Vladimir Nabokov into the villain for writing a book like this when in reality he was victim of child sexual abuse himself. He called lolita his "poor little girl". He wanted the cover of the book to be an American landscape and especially NOT that of a little girl because he wanted lolita to be faceless. It's so heartbreaking to see the author's wishes be blatantly disrespected.

I love psychological horrors/thrillers with unreliable narrators like lolita and killing stalking but they get misinterpreted so often it's sad.

[cherry-pop-elf]

Eyes For You

Dr. Jack Griffin x Reader

Authors Note: No one asked for this. No one wanted this. But I wanted it. It’s my emotional support film and god dammit I love this insane Twink.

Sum: You were waiting for your husband to return home from a trip out with some friends. But something went bump in the night. You were no coward, and investigated. Maybe you should have been a coward

Warnings: 18+/Violence, attempted kidnapping, Unhinged madness (you signed up for exactly that anyway), Jack being EXTREMELY protective of you, unethical science, blood, babygirling horror

“Jacky? That you?” You spoke into the darkness. You had to ask. You heard a noise, and well he’s Jack. He likes to pull pranks, and is also a little bit hard to….see….So it’s easier to call than poke around.

There wasn’t a response, however. Even he couldn’t help it but giggle, whenever he tried to pull something sneaky on you. That’s how much he adored you. Unable to keep himself wrapped up enough to follow through. Just to excited to see your laughing face.

Many would have probably stayed in their room. Maybe even call some kind of authorities. You? Well for one calling the cops doesn’t work when you are married to a man like Jack. Also, what’s scarier than Griffin?

So, here you are. You climbed out of bed, stole your husband’s robe, and snuck yourself outside of your shared bedroom. Through the familiar halls of the manor, with a candleholder in hand.

“I swear if someone broke in here, again, I’ll butcher them myself.” You would huff, as you would walk down the stairs. Had a bit of a history of people not knowing when to mind their own business. You came from a well off family, and that was how you and Jack even met. Your father had a medical issue, and Jack was able to solve it. Was hired to be the family doctor, and was able to be given funding for his experiments.

You couldn’t stop your dreamy smile. The memories of how excited he was to share what he discovered to you. How someone was willing to listen his endless rambles. He didn’t love you for the financial prosperities. He loved you because you wanted him to succeed. Was like a fairy tale.

“Whoever’s in my house better get out. I’m not afraid to get violent!” You shouted, as you kicked the door open. Certainly startled the man in your kitchen. Not every day someone actually confronts the one who breaks in.

“I don’t care who you are. Get out of my house. My husband will be home any minute now, and I rather not clean up blood stains at this hour.” The intruder sure was confused at how causal your violent mannerisms were. You kinda picked up a thing or two from a mad scientist.

“Sure he is. I’ve never seen a man come in or out of your house. But I’ve certainly seen plenty of fancy equipment. You’ve got money-“ And he was soon raising a gun at you. “And I have a feeling your daddy will pay plenty to get you back.” He warned.

Not the first time someone did this. But it was the first time someone actually go into your house. Luckily, your husband doesn’t marry himself anyone dumb. You blew out your candle, and the world was casted in darkness.

He fired, in a attempt to hit you, but you were already running. You ran, and tried to think of where would be the best place to go. Should you lock yourself in your husbands lab? What about running outside? Should you risk going upstairs, and getting a better weapon? You tried to think fast, but a bullet finally landed its mark.

You have a yelp of pain, as you were soon falling to the ground. A bullet right in your leg, and your only means of any defense was clattering out of reach. Just left to bleed in the hallway. The portraits of your friends, and family, left to just watch as your attacker found you. The moonlight casting a terrifying glow over his masked features.

“Well that was easy. Husband still coming to save you?” He mocked, as you were left to try and crawl away. Just taunting you, as he knew you couldn’t stand. You suppose this was poetic justice. You were now the victim, and you now had a mad man above you.

There was also something else above you. The rise of the candle holder you had lost in the fall. The darkness made it impossible for the attacker to see, but your angle had the moonlight sparkling on it. The gold a beacon of hope, as it was raised above his head.

“Maybe I should enjoy myself. Damaged goods are still goods, aren’t they?” He cackled at you. Just saw you as nothing more than a damsel of meat to enjoy, and oh did that made your husband growl.

“HANDS OFF MY DARLING!” And down it came. The attacker was down on the ground, wondering how he was hit. Was just left to watch, in horror, as the candle holder was held up by nothing at all. To just watch it come down and hit him over and over.

And over.

And over.

And over.

The blood was pooling. So much splatter, that you could make out your husbands shape. To see the defined features he held. Like his nose, the scars in his flesh, and how his face was in a scowl. He was not one to cross. His own partner, in his own home? Needles to say you’ll need to buy a candle holder.

“Jacky-!” Despite the pain in your leg you were raising your hands up. Eager to be held by your savior. No care for the blood, as you saw it in a cruel justification. Your husband saved you, and you needed to be held.

“My darling-“ He swooned, as you were scooped into his arms. Held close to his chest, and safe in his hidden embrace. With whispers of comfort, as you were quickly taken to his private lab. Safe, and to be treated.

“Oh darling, I should have hurried home sooner.” He was quick to blame himself. The only time he ever seemed to accept blame, really. If you were in harms way he takes guilt with out a second thought. Anything else? Never his fault. He really put you above himself. Above science. Above world dominate. Everything was beneath you.

“Jacky, hush. I’m ok now. You are here now.” You tried to calm him, as he would tend to your leg. Careful calculations. You didn’t even need to see his face to know those once white eyebrows were knitted close together. That he would be sticking his tongue out the corner of rosey lips. To have his violet eyes narrowed to make sure he pulled out the bullet just right.

He made sure you were as pampered as possible, while soothing your wound. Made sure it was cleaned, and patched, what have you. Muttering away at himself about the the annoyance of mankind. The normal.

“I’ll deal with him in the morning. Along with the mess I left behind. Greymatter is all over the walls.” He laughed, as he would proceed to use a wet cloth to clean up the blood off his body. To once again vanish into nothingness.

Call yourself insane, but you swore you could always tell where he was. Maybe being exposed to him for so long has caused you to develop some kind of second hand effects. Maybe you just held a bond with him like no other. You didn’t know. You just knew that you didn’t need to see him to see him, as cheesey as it was.

“You better. My word, you bent that holder into a spiral. I swear-“ You teased, as you were scooped into his arms again. Just a floating bundle of warmth and love. Certainly would cause the strangest of sight to those who were unaware. Which is most of the population. As far as anyone knew you were a widow. That typically keeps people from wanting your hand, but not always.

“He dare lay a hand on you. To harm you. To think he could….Oh his organs would be useless for science. I’m certain they are as dead as his brain is mush. Even his body is no use!” He ranted on, as he would bring you back upstairs.

You both knew his body would be used for some experiment, but the emotions are what matter. Had you nuzzling your face in his neck, with whispers of kisses. The only thing to sooth his raging heart.

“Jacky, let’s get some sleep. I know you had a busy weekend with your friends.” That had him finally stop his muttering. For you, he would defy the laws of nature. Suppose getting some sleep will be what he could offer, tonight anyway.

You would be laid down, as if a maiden by her knight, as he went to get into some sleep clothes. Such as some boxers, and a old shirt he had back when he wasn’t the madman he was today.

It always was so funny to watch, no matter how many times it’s been witnessed. To just see a floating set of clothes. It always had you smiling. To have his mannerism so memorized that you can still imagine them. The way he would sassily rest a hand on his hip, as he paced in thought. To how he would run his fingers through his white hair.

“Jacky….Bed.” You gentler cooed. Was followed by a sigh, from him, as that invisible hand would lift up the blankets. Now a indentation on the bed. All you need to find him. To find him, and snuggle into his chest.

“Welcome home.” You yawned. Safe in his arms again. To feel his scared fingers rub your back, as he would treasure you close. With literal invisible kisses to your face. As if it would be a cure to all your worries. Suppose he was right, they were.

“So good to be home again, darling.” He returned, as you could feel his breathing relax. To have his burning heart cooled. You were the very thing that kept him away from the world. The draw bridge of civilization and a apocalypse.

Maybe if you get bored enough, one day, you’ll lower that bridge.

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

Vincent Price - Las Vegas Story (1952)

[witchqueenofthemoon]

Angela Barrett.

[shadowhaert]

TJ MIKELOGAN'S HALLOWEEN 2023 EVENT

Day 4: favorite horror movie (a classic horror story)

insp

[what-have-i-unleashed]

very sad to see dust x classic probably not winning because i have an awesome idea where dust is figuratively and literally sans' doppelganger in a pacifist timeline. if it's not winning then i might as well spoil my half-baked idea here already for anyone interested in picking it up :)

this story would follow a pacifist undertale timeline sans as he enjoys his life on the surface with his friends and family. things are well and good.

until one day, sans sees a doppelganger in the crowd, a figure in a jacket similar to his but with their hood up. he doesn't think of it much, and he's not particularly superstitious to be much spooked anyway.

sans works as a standup comedian at a metattton-brand restaurant, so he's fairly famous with some followers. he's particular about not interacting too much with fans, but he does engage with their online questions from time to time. and he has some new online friends, as well as new in-person friends from his gigs. he can be somewhat busy now, but it's not too much that he can't handle.

at first, it's only trivial stuff like people remarking about him going to places he doesn't remember going to. then, it's some few online accounts sending him worrying messages that pry into his private life, asking him about his relationship with his friends, with his brother whom he rarely talks about. he blocks them, but that uneasy feeling doesn't go away.

and then, he's on a small tour, his first one actually. he just needs to leave mt. ebott for a few weeks. things get weirder. he starts spotting his doppelganger more often, but surely that's just a fan right? nothing to be paranoid about.

until he gets ambushed in the dressing room that is, after his last show in the tour, by that same doppelganger he's seen so many times. "i've been watching you for a long time," they say with a huge smile on their face. something's wrong.

cut to when the tour ends and everyone goes back home. papyrus, now a culinary student, is very happy for sans for having his big break as a budding comedian on the surface. when he goes to greet his brother, sans holds him for a little bit too tight, seeming to be shaking just a little bit.

"i quit comedy," sans says, which surprises papyrus. "i focus too much on my job that i forget about everyone and everything important to me. especially you, bro. i promise it won't happen again."

papyrus is confused, reassuring sans that having a career he likes is all fine. but sans only shakes his head, only gripping onto papyrus' scarf harder.

"it's okay. i didn't know how important things are until they were lost to me. but never again. i got everything i need here. i don't need anything else."

[waterlilyspad]

The Horseman's Bride.

Not fandom related, but a short story I made for Halloween, who knows maybe I'll write more. This just kinda hit me out of nowhere.

(TW for violence, mentions of blood and gore, vivid depictions of derealization, panic attacks, near death experiences.)

Out of every moment throughout your life and every single possible slip up, accident, bump in the night, and tiny happenstance you’ve been alright. The time a boy in middle school stuck gum in your hair sure, whatever, that’s fine, the time you thought a van was following you home after work, just for it to be a very confused grandma, whatever. The point being you've never once been confronted with danger, and you were so careful and comfortable with how you lived that you never imagined you’d end up here, feeling everything all at once running through your head the good the bad and the not so bad considering you grew up in a suburb your whole life. The fact is you're running from death itself and there’s no one to save you.

You're running faster than you’ve ever run, almost faster than the man chasing you, well almost as fast if it weren’t for the fact the ground is littered with rocks, exposed roots, and very damp slippery maple leaves. Why horror movie protagonists slip and fall so easily makes so much sense. You also didn’t anticipate being chased down by a serial killer so you neglected to double knot your sneakers before going out today. The laces flopping open with every step. You also didn’t charge your phone for very long, so the advent of calling for help is out of the question by now. It’s agonizingly obvious but, you're going to die tonight.

 It is such a disorienting reality, you feel like you're not you, that you're watching yourself from the outside as you run with all your might, you didn’t amount to much, and it’d probably be a few years before anyone finds you. It’s the worst kind of derealization, why was I born to live such an amazing life? With a family that loved me, with friends that picked me up when I was down, to have nice neighbors, a good home, amazing food, music, clothes, a sense of imagination and wonder that ensured you finished both highschool and college without ever losing yourself along the way, you think, why was I born woman. 

You curse as you begin to descend a hill scraping your  knee along the way down hoping this would throw him off but the killer is still hot on your trail, as if he knows every step and fault of the forest grounds like the back of his hand. If I were born a man maybe I’d still be okay, but I’m not. You think to yourself as you round a few trees dodging and running deeper into the woods your lungs are on fire, breathing is very hard for you, you’re not an athlete but your not entirely unhealthy either, adrenaline is one hell of a chemical response but if you were male maybe you’d stand a fighting chance or maybe this guy wouldn’t have bothered you at all. But none of that matters, the horrible belief remains If you were just running of your own volition you would’ve given up sooner. Your knees begin to shake and wobble, please don’t stop, keep going, you beg in your mind but they don’t listen, and soon enough the perfect mix of everything that could go wrong, goes wrong. You step on your loose shoelace, your leg catches the bridge of an exposed tree root, and your legs aren’t strong enough now to catch yourself, you fall face first into the mud and soot of the earth, picking your head up and trying to get back on your feet is impossible, you’re pretty sure you twisted something, but in the midst of your panic that doesn’t register as you try to pick yourself up, only for your palm to slip on a wet leaf causing you to fall again. He’s coming, you know it, this is it, why was I born to live beautifully, and die horrifically. 

Tears of fear and exhaustion are streaming down your face, your ears are ringing, your heart is pounding like it could jump out of your throat at any minute, and yet time continues oddly and unnervingly it continues without a sound. You're sure the killer is just doing this to give you a false sense of hope, he’s keep playing with you. Raising your head to look around the scene, your met with a dense fog that wasn’t there before, but is now heavily coating the forest, you see what looks like a light source skimming the fog, there’s an uneven walk to it, and your eyes light up, it looks like the light from a lantern, someone is out here. “Hello?! Please help me!” You scream you begin to slowly lift yourself up by holding onto the tree behind you, seeing the light coming closer your relief washes over you, but soon the sight itself seems wrong? The light is placed at a weird distance from the ground that wouldn’t otherwise be within a reasonable arm’s length. It’s hovering high above almost like a very tall street lamp, additionally the sounds of footsteps multiply, it’s the unmistakable sound of hooves stomping into the wet ground. 

Okay maybe it’s a horse rider? On his horse at night just like you do with no murderous intent, your think, but soon your wishful reasoning leaves you as the person nears closer, the fog draping them as they approach, the light isn’t even something they’re holding, it’s illuminating from their head. You rub your eyes to make sure before fear takes hold again. As the rider approaches your met with the incredible but horrifying sight, a man with a carved pumpkin for a head appears, his horse is larger than life, and as dark as sky, its yellow eyes burning into your very soul, nothing here is right, your breathing picks up almost immediately. The horseman reaches to his side pulling out an axe, a small tree axe. Your survival instincts go wild and your skin is jumping, screaming for you to run, and you do, tearing your eyes from the horseman and feebly trying to run before feeling an arm lock itself around your neck. You choke and scream for dear life as a knife is pressed to your throat.

 that is until the wind cuts right behind you, and something warm and wet spatters across your back, you shiver and cry standing completely still your whole body is shaking, your back covered in fresh blood. You slowly turn to look, the man that was chasing you is now lying on the floor, a ghastly black smoke rising out of his exposed neck with his head lying father away from the body on the floor next to you. You let out a scream and cover your mouth as the clacking sound of hooves draws closer to you. You hear a thud as the rider dismounts, your legs feel like jelly, your head buried in your hands as you hunch in fear not wanting to look death in the eyes. Your legs give out entirely you're sure you're going to kneel onto the ground but arms catch you with a quick caution before you're hoisted up slowly with care like someone catching their feeble grandparent. 

You lift your heavy head out of your palms as you look up at the pumpkin looking back down at you, there’s a kind of warmth to it, like a campfire, or the feeling you’d get when putting your hands over a lit candle. You stay silent in frozen sublime, the circular opening of the treetops set a void like halo over the creature, you didn’t know it now but the beyond was staring back at you. In a rush of sounds and other ungodly howls, your attention is drawn to the surrounding area as multiple eyes appear. Creatures of all kinds, humanoid and animalistic alike begin to gather round. The rider stands you up slowly as you remain pinned to his chest. There's a sound like nothing you’ve heard before, you can’t understand it but it’s coming from the rider, something beyond you replies with a sickly laugh, another with a groan, and some creatures begin to back away. “What…What’s going on.” You asked quietly as he stared back down at you, his large hand cupping your shaking one, “Audrey May, trust me.” He assures before he kneels with you, your legs finally giving out as you sit on the ground and rest against his front, you look up and around noticing ghastly like apparitions and creatures watching you and the rider with feverish intent. 

So many questions are floating in your head now to the point it makes you dizzy, just trying to come up with a clear thought is a herculean task in itself. All of it instantly melts away as your right hand is lifted,  you watch as his other free hand lifts a ring to your finger. You're too out of it to react, reserving yourself to staring on in horror and shock, was this thing serious?! You look up at him with a look of pure confusion he responds with a whisper. “Play along.” You're relieved slightly but still uneasy, his large hand slowly lifting the ring to your small finger, it slides on like a glove like it was made for you and you alone. After the deed is done he lifts your hand to his false mouth making a kiss-like motion you realize in that moment the jack o lantern on his head is just that, a gourd and not his actual head as the carvings remain still. “Shall we?” He asks with more volume than before, you nod playing along with this supposedly pretend proposal. His arms link behind and beneath you as  you’re hoisted up to him. your arms link around his shoulders and behind his neck as he lifts you up with minimal effort before walking towards the horse. 

Your eyes scan the area, there are ghastly figures all smiling, some talking amongst each other laughing with a horrible sound, you look up to the tree to see child-like figures giggling. More and more of them appear to watch the horseman take his claim.  You look behind you over his shoulder and see the body of the man who was after you and his head lying in the dirt, his face frozen with terror staring up at you, it makes you uneasy, you look away immediately. The rider lets your legs down and instructs you to hold yourself by the saddle rope as he mounts, once he’s mostly up his arm wraps around your back and in one swift motion hoist’s you up onto the black stallion along with himself. He secures himself on the saddle and makes sure your secure as well, the creatures of the woods growing closer to the sight. The horseman has you lean in close as he grabs hold of the reins, his head turns to the nearing creatures. “Eat and be merry.” He instructs at his word they dash to the body, you close your eyes as the rider yips and the horse marches forward, the crowd making way for the two of you as they focus on their meal.

 The horse gains speed as you exit the scene, flying through the woods with the clicking of hooves, the wind flying around you as you begin to breathe more easily, everything in your body hurts and the jumping of the horse’s pace digs into your aching body. You shiver as the cold hits your sweat, against your better judgment you lean into the rider shaking, he’s well aware of this, his right arm letting go of the rein and closing in to hold you to him. The two of you ride into a clearing that looks like an open field. Slowly you feel your chest lighten at the sight of trees opening to a clear. Above the wall of mist and fog a starry night, you look up, your eyes growing heavy as the weight of your entire ordeal washes over you, exhaustion hits once your adrenaline has subsided, so you just stare up at the underside of this strange pumpkin man whatever he is. Maybe you're safe or maybe you're not, but dammit you were going to sleep, you thought to yourself as the cold wind blew the hair from your face, please if you're some evil killer like the last one, please at least let me die while sleeping, would you? You think as your mind washes to black; you fall into a deep sleep.

((Little fun note in folklore Dullahans are the harbingers of death that lead souls to the afterlife, makes you think.))

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

obligatory rock murder mention

[cherries-in-wine]

Rereading lolita makes me appreciate Nabokov's writing so much more, he's really good at making sure that dolores' abuse is subtle enough that Humbert Humbert can romanticise it, but present enough that any competent reader can see how miserable she is.

He thinks she is being a "teasing nymphet" when she only shows him physical affection in exchange for money, when in reality she hates this disgusting old man and is doing anything she can to save some money and escape. He's continuously stealing all her money and he hears her crying at night. He comments on how her eyes look tired and lifeless.

This book will disgust you but that's because it's such a well written gothic horror and in my opinion art should disgust you to a degree. I appreciate Vladimir Nabokov respecting dolores enough that there are no explicit scenes of sexual violence in the book, it's the bare minimum but at this point I feel like so many authors and directors will add in extremely disrespectful and detailed explicit rape scenes just for the shock factor I guess- it's so unnecessary and adds nothing to the story expect for exploiting sexual trauma.