In our quest for the bizarre and the twisted, we stumbled upon a Short Tales Of Horror subreddit on Reddit and we knew that we had to share it with our readers. If you’re looking forward to a night of sleeplessness, read on.
‘I hate it when my brother Charlie has to go away’ by horrorinpureform ?
I hate it when my brother Charlie has to go away. My parents constantly try to explain to me how sick he is. That I am lucky for having a brain where all the chemicals flow properly to their destinations like undammed rivers. When I complain about how bored I am without a little brother to play with, they try to make me feel bad by pointing out that his boredom likely far surpasses mine, considering his confine to a dark room in an institution. I always beg for them to give him one last chance. Of course, they did at first. Charlie has been back home several times, each shorter in duration than the last. Every time without fail, it all starts again. The neighbourhood cats with gouged out eyes showing up in his toy chest, my dad’s razors found dropped on the baby slide in the park across the street, mom’s vitamins replaced by bits of dishwasher tablets. My parents are hesitant now, using “last chances” sparingly. They say his disorder makes him charming, makes it easy for him to fake normalcy, and to trick the doctors who care for him into thinking he is ready for rehabilitation. That I will just have to put up with my boredom if it means staying safe from him. I hate it when Charlie has to go away. It makes me have to pretend to be good until he is back.
‘Seeing Red (The First Day of School)’ by Zenryhao ?
Everyone loves the first day of school, right? New year, new classes, new friends. It’s a day full of potential and hope, before all the dreary depressions of reality show up to ruin all the fun.I like the first day of school for a different reason, though. You see, I have a sort of power. When I look at people, I can…sense a sort of aura around them. A colored outline based on how long that person has to live. Most everyone I meet around my age is surrounded by a solid green hue, which means they have plenty of time left.A fair amount of them have a yellow-orangish tinge to their auras, which tends to mean a car crash or some other tragedy. Anything that takes people “before their time” as they say.The real fun is when the auras venture into the red end of the spectrum, though. Every now and again I’ll see someone who’s basically a walking stoplight. Those are the ones who get murdered or kill themselves. It’s such a rush to see them and know their time is numbered.With that in mind, I always get to class very early so I can scout out my classmates’ fates. The first kid who walked in was basically radiating red. I chuckled to myself. Too damn bad, bro. But as people kept walking in, they all had the same intense glow. I finally caught a glimpse of my rose-tinted reflection in the window, but I was too stunned to move. Our professor stepped in and locked the door, his aura a sickening shade of green.
‘My Daughter Learned to Count’ by RealScience87 ?
My daughter woke me around 11:50 last night. My wife and I had picked her up from her friend Sally’s birthday party, brought her home, and put her to bed. My wife went into the bedroom to read while I fell asleep watching the Braves game.”Daddy,” she whispered, tugging my shirt sleeve. “Guess how old I’m going to be next month.””I don’t know, beauty,” I said as I slipped on my glasses. “How old?”She smiled and held up four fingers.It is 7:30 now. My wife and I have been up with her for almost 8 hours. She still refuses to tell us where she got them.
‘There’s no Reason to be Afraid’ by whoeverfightsmonster ?
When my sister Betsy and I were kids, our family lived for awhile in a charming old farmhouse. We loved exploring its dusty corners and climbing the apple tree in the backyard. But our favorite thing was the ghost.We called her Mother, because she seemed so kind and nurturing. Some mornings Betsy and I would wake up, and on each of our nightstands, we’d find a cup that hadn’t been there the night before. Mother had left them there, worried that we’d get thirsty during the night. She just wanted to take care of us.Among the house’s original furnishings was an antique wooden chair, which we kept against the back wall of the living room. Whenever we were preoccupied, watching TV or playing a game, Mother would inch that chair forward, across the room, toward us. Sometimes she’d manage to move it all the way to the center of the room. We always felt sad putting it back against the wall. Mother just wanted to be near us.Years later, long after we’d moved out, I found an old newspaper article about the farmhouse’s original occupant, a widow. She’d murdered her two children by giving them each a cup of poisoned milk before bed. Then she’d hanged herself.The article included a photo of the farmhouse’s living room, with a woman’s body hanging from a beam. Beneath her, knocked over, was that old wooden chair, placed exactly in the center of the room.
‘Warrior of god’ by KMApok ?
“If God exists, why is there so much evil in the world?” It’s a common question, but it is misplaced.All things must have balance. Light and dark. Good and evil. Sound and silence. Without one, the other cannot exist.”So if that’s true, then God does NOTHING to fight evil?” That might be your follow up question.Of course he fights evil. Relentlessly. I am Dartalian, one of His most Holy and Righteous angels.I roam the Earth, disposing of evil wherever I find it. I kill the monsters you don’t ever want to know about. I crush them completely so you can sleep at night. You humans have no idea how many of you live because of the work I do.”But what about Stalin? Hitler? Ted Bundy? Jack the Ripper?”Well, those are the minor ones I had to let live. For balance. The ones I destroy are ….too horrible and vile to survive.What’s funny, is while I would wager you never have heard the name Dartalian in any relegious texts, I bet you have heard of me.Americans, for example, have their own name for me.Sudden Infant Death Syndrome.
‘The Accident’ by minnboy ?
It was one a.m. and Guy Halverson sat in his dark living room. He hadn’t moved for over an hour. The accident earlier that evening kept playing over and over in his mind. The light turned red, but he was in a hurry and accelerated. An orange blur came from his right, and in a split second there was a violent jolt, then the bicyclist rolled across his hood and fell out of sight on the pavement. Horns blared angrily and he panicked, stepping on the gas and screeching away from the chaos into the darkness, shaken and keeping an eye on his rearview mirror until he got home.Why did you run, you idiot? He’d never committed a crime before this and punished himself by imagining years in jail, his career gone, his family gone, his future gone.Why not just go to the police right now? You can afford a lawyer.Then someone tapped on the front door and his world suddenly crumbled away beneath him. They found me. There was nothing he could do but answer it. Running would only make matters worse. His body trembling, he got up, went to the door and opened it. A police officer stood under the porch light.”Mr. Halverson?” asked the grim officer.He let out a defeated sigh. “Yes. Let me —”I am terribly sorry, but I’m afraid I have some bad news. Your son’s bike was struck by a hit and run driver this evening. He died at the scene. I’m very sorry for your loss.”
‘Hands’ by minnboy ?
The doctor pulled the stethoscope ear tips out and hung the device around his neck.”Mr. Weatherby, all of your tests have come back negative and my examination shows nothing abnormal.”Adam knew what was coming next. “I’m not crazy, Doctor.””I’m sorry, but there is no physical reason for why you occasionally lose control of your hands. A psychologist can help…””I don’t need therapy. I need answers. They seem to have a life all their own. I can’t hold a job. I’m under investigation for assault. I almost killed my neighbor. This can’t go on. I’ll try anything at this point.”After two weeks on a new medication, Adam saw no progress and grew increasingly depressed.He was convinced that despite what the doctors said, it was not a psychological problem. That night, a frustrated and angry Adam sat in a chair and drank bourbon. Drunk and hopeless, he stumbled to the garage and started the table saw, then slowly lowered his wrists toward the screaming blade.Detective Armstrong entered the garage where several uniformed officers stood over the blood-soaked body.”So what do we got?” he asked, taking in the blood-splattered scene.”This is a weird one, Detective.””How so?””Take a look at the body. He apparently chopped off his hands with the table saw and bled to death.”Armstrong knelt down. “And?””And we can’t find his hands anywhere.”
‘Fallers’ by dastard82 ?
People started falling from the sky by the close of the decade. They were never clothed, always naked, always a petrifying grin on their faces.It had been just a few at first, but then hundreds and thousands would fall at a time, destroying cars, homes, blocking off highways.Strange discoveries were made upon research; they were human, but lacked any blood, intestines, even a heart. No one could explain the hideous grins they had, or even where they came from.It was a woman in Costa Rica who made the latest and most disturbing discovery. She recognized one of the fallen bodies as a long dead relative, one who died back when she had been a teenager. Then more and more identifications were made.Soon people were picking out their long dead loved ones amongst the video feeds, cadaver piles, and crematoriums. No one could explain why they were coming back, falling from the sky.Even more distressing, after disposing of the bodies, it wouldn’t be long until that same body came plummeting from the sky again. You could not get rid of them, no matter what. People were getting killed by the higher volume of falling bodies, and soon after burial, they too, began to fall.My mother was killed when a body landed on her car, crushing her. The next week, the news reported on a body that had gotten lodged in an airplane windshield. I saw my mother’s grinning face, the happiest I had ever seen her.They say when hell is full; the dead shall walk the earth. What about heaven?
‘Hidden’ by KMApok ?
“Where are you?!” I scream.Panicked, I run through the abandoned farm. I can’t find her. Not in the old house. Not in the barn.I run into the empty field, heart racing. As I scan the area, I run into a mound of dirt and trip, sprawling to the ground.Getting up, it hits me. Abandoned farm. I tripped over freshly tilled earth.Crouching down, I start frantically clawing with my hands. Scooping handfuls of dirt, I hit something hard. Wood.”Are you in there?!” I cry, pressing my ear to the wood. I hear muffled cries.I start digging again, but realize it’s taking too long. Looking around, I see a garden shed. I sprint to it, ripping the door open. I see a shovel, still caked in dirt. Probably the same one that bastard buried her with. I grab it.Running back, I started digging with purpose. Soon the wooden box is exposed. I toss the shovel, and rip open the crate.She stares back at me, eyes wide. Bound. Gagged. But alive. I sigh with relief. Thank God.I reach into my bag, pulling out my rag and chloroform. I crouch down, placing it over her face. She struggles, faints. I toss her over my shoulder.”Ah, hell!” My brother says as I walk back to the truck with a smirk. “You found her!””Yup. You almost had me though!” I laugh.”All right. My turn. Where did you put her?”I gesture to the creek area. “Somewhere over there. Drowning’s an issue though.””Jerk!” he says, running off. I smile, watching him go. I love adult Hide and Seek.
‘ylim3’ by IPostAtMidnight ?
Little Emily vanished last year. Now they’re pouring new sidewalks in my neighborhood, and I’ve found her name in the wet cement, written in remembrance. But it was written in reverse. And from below.