#amwritinghorror

[hmdeath]

If you're a writer of fantasy, horror, or speculative fiction in general, reblog this! Looking for kindred spirits to follow!

[starwhisperstories]

Vampire Hunger and the Search for the Perfect Taste: A Dark Tale | The Fabled Wilds

Jerimiah Has A Snack - by Rebecca Higgins | The Fabled Wilds

As Grace battles the hunger that comes with her vampire curse, the line between survival and sadism blurs, leaving her to confront the consequences of her insatiable thirst. Written by Rebecca Higgins. Read time: 5 minutes.(770 words)

Read It On StarWhispers.co

[doubtingreality]

Writeblr Introduction

I suppose I have never formally introduced myself or my writing; it seems time to remedy that! I am currently in my senior year of undergrad for my BA in English and Creative Writing. For some personal details, my name is Stormy, and I am 21-year-old lesbian who's always been a bit spooky. I love cats, my girlfriend, scary movies, and autumn. I have spent most of my life in the south although my father is in the navy, and we moved a bit when I was younger. I include these details because they tend to creep into my writing interests, my own set of "write what you know" contextualization.

Current Works

I am currently working on my first novel, There Have Always Been Others. There Have Always Been Others is currently concerned with the feelings of suffocation, isolation, and surveillance minorities experience in the contemporary south, primarily targeting how these feelings affect queer people and interracial relationships. My hope is to particularly focus on small hostilities and how they begin the isolation process before revealing acts of true violence or monstrosity. This piece is incredibly atmospheric and relies on traits seen in Southern Gothic, my preferred literary tradition. There is also a hefty through-line of failing family structures which is both necessary to the plot and a centering force for the thematic elements of bigotry and isolation. I want readers to walk away with some handle on the idea that unhealthy family structures become deeply cannibalistic, destroying themselves from the inside out. This story is also set in the year leading up to Hurricane Katrina, hence the importance of the Louisiana setting, as I want to build a sense of impending doom and inescapable horror as well as an understanding of the implications of race during crisis.

I have another six or so novels laid out in the briefest of summaries but do not wish to share about them until I have officially "broken ground" and written at least a first draft.

I am hoping to find fellow up-and-coming writers and immerse myself a bit more in contemporary fiction! As you might have guessed from my preoccupation with the Gothic, I'm a bit stuck in the 18th century. I also want to expand my literary pallet beyond my current niche!

[valldoesdnd]

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Want to join in the discussion or just say hi? Check out our Discord Server!

[ethanismusic]

“The Collector of Smiles” is live now! Cut and paste this short link below or click it from my bio! https://cutt.ly/ljbnHRx • • • #shortstory #amwritinghorror #detectivefiction #freestory #nosleep #creepypasta #espopeauthor https://www.instagram.com/p/CJ89QTRg958/?igshid=1f3jpe3ecxfbv

[sylvesterbarzey]

~Lanier~ A Lake Lanier Horror Story

This summer I got a chance to go to Camp Lanier. A summer camp that focused on bringing kids back to nature. I hate nature, I would have been happy playing video games all summer, but my mom is a single parent and camps are the best babysitters for me. So, I was shipped off to camp bug bite and lined up on a dock, waiting to learn to swim.

“This is a satanic sacrifice, they’re tossing us into the abyss,” Someone whispered in my ear, I could tell by the sound of pure terror in his voice, that it was Maxwell, he had been very adamant at lunch about the moral and legal injustices of forcing someone to learn how to swim against their wishes.

“You’re gonna be fine, Max.” I replied.

Maxwell crossed his arms over his chest, “Fine? People die like this all the time. Who lines people up and makes them jump into dangerous waters? Pirates, that’s who!” Maxwell hissed.

“So, you think a camp of Pirates is plotting to teach kids how to swim?” I asked.

“When you say it like that, it sounds crazy,” Maxwell mumbled.

“It sounds crazy no matter how I say it,” I replied. We shuffled behind the other kids as we listened to the splashing and giggles from up ahead.

“He’s not wrong,” A soft voice came from the girl’s line beside us. I looked over to see a set of hazel eyes and a dark puffy Afro staring at me.

“You think this is a Pirate camp?” I asked.

“No...but that would be cool. He’s right about the lake, it is dangerous.” She replied. Her statement grabbed the ears of most the kids as we shuffled along the wet wooden dock, “Before there was a camp, there was a lake and before that...there was a town. My grandpa told me that this whole lake was once a thriving Black town. People called it Little Atlanta” the girl said.

“So, this used to be a town?” Maxwell asked.

“Yeah, the KKK didn’t like a town of black citizens thriving, so one night they came in and murdered everyone. Grandpa said blood stained the streets when it was all said and done.” The girl grabbed her big puffy Afro and held it tightly as she removed the green band from her wrist and wrapped it around her hair making a tight smaller puff on her head. “They tried to burn the town after. They lined the bodies up in the church and set them ablaze, but only the bodies burned.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. I wasn’t buying it. Things like this didn’t happen.

“They tried setting the church on fire but it wouldn’t burn, the flames would just crawl along the wood like little glowing worms and then die out. Same with all the other buildings. Nothing would burn that night or any other time they returned with or without their hoods.” She replied.

“Creepy,” Maxwell said.

“What’s creepy is what the state did after,” She said.

“What did they do?” I asked.

“I don’t wanna go in there!” A boy screamed. Our eyes were pulled to the confrontation as the boy and our counselor, Adam, were arguing at the very edge of the dock.

“Kid, get in the water,” Adam said.

“We shouldn’t, you know that!” The boy turned his head toward us...no, toward me. Our gazes were locked. Sweat poured down his skin just as fast as my heart was banging against my chest, “They know that!” He screamed.

“Okay, enough!” Adam shouted and his hands slammed into the boy’s chest, catapulting him into the dark waters of the lake. The boy’s screams echoed through my head until...silence, “Next!” Adam shouted.

“Next? He needs help, he’s drowning!” I shouted.

“Everyone is,” Maxwell whispered.

And as if nothing happened, she continued, “They wanted to demolish the town and hide what they did.They brought in bulldozers and dynamite, but it all failed.” The girl looked over at me, “So, they drowned it. The state turned Little Atlanta into a nice sweet lake... except nothing’s sweet about this place.” We looked forward and the line that once felt miles long, was now at its end. We were next, “There’s blood all over that town. In the soil, in the walls and in the water.”

“Next!” Adam shouted.

“There’s blood in the water,” she whispered.

“I said you’re next, boy!” A deep demonic southern accent came out of Adam’s mouth.

I turned toward him and his eyes were a dark blood red. I frantically backed up bumping into the ice cold skin of the girl, “If you know all this, why would you come here?” I asked.

“I wouldn’t,” she said. When I spun around, everyone was gone. Maxwell, Adam, the girl, even the sun. I stood alone in the cool darkness of the night, the water was smacking against the dock.

I inhaled the night air. I saw the cabin lights in the distance. I could even hear faint laughter. My sweaty hands ran over my face and I sighed into them. I turned toward the water and stared at it’s cool ripples. I cautiously inched forward to the dock’s edge. I felt like I was on fire, sweat poured freely. I got on my knees, “I hate camp,” I said as I pushed my hand below the water’s surface. I pulled the cool liquid up to my face and shut my eyes, splashing the heat away. They opened to see a set of blood red eyes staring back at me, through my rippled reflection.

Gray hands shot up and grabbed my arm, “Didn’t they tell you…” that deep southern accent came from the lips of my haunted reflection, as it gargled the words out, “There’s blood in the water, boy!” He screamed and pulled my body into the chill of the water. Gray hands pulled me below into the abyss of blood red eyes.

[iguessaj]

Yes! Omg. It’s so demoralizing! Lol Posted @withregram • @s_clancy4223 Thank God for editors 😂 . . #amwriting #writer #amwritinghorror #author #horrorauthor #horror #authorofinstagram #writerslife #authorlife https://www.instagram.com/p/B-bB73fhZ6b/?igshid=19p88of3amdpk

[authorcatherinenogle]

Just started working on the sequel for my first novel Whispers in His Ears the other day, and this is my favorite little bit of ‘WTF’ from chapter one without giving too much away.