Four new short scary stories

If you like this genre, go to Reddit and check out the subReddit: Shortscarystories.

Hunting Season

My new running route seemed unusually quiet for a Saturday afternoon, in fact, I hadn’t passed or been passed by a soul. It was a cool, gusty fall day and dry leaves crunched underfoot as I entered a shady wooded stretch of the path.

It was hunting season so I wore a fluorescent orange cap, and although I felt self-conscious, it was better than being mistaken for prey. Between my clopping feet and heavy breathing, I thought I heard something out of context in the quiet woods, so I stopped for a moment to listen. At first, all I could make out was the distant tapping of a woodpecker and the rustling of leaves. Then, like a whisper, I heard a child crying.

The sound was coming from my right, from somewhere in the shadows, but it couldn’t be too far away. Was it a lost child?

I followed the sobbing voice into the hazy greyness of the forest, stopping every few yards to listen. The crying grew louder as a picked my way through branches and brush, and soon I broke out into a large meadow of tall grass and froze. In the middle of the meadow was a deer stand with a speaker attached to it. This was the source of the child’s cries. Then I saw a man dressed in camouflage looking in my direction. He slowly raised a rifle to his shoulder….


Katie’s Crisis

We’d only been in our new apartment two days when next-door neighbors Doug and Jeanie Myers arrived bearing a plate of goodies. I wanted to kill them right off, but my wife gave me the “no” signal. So we had coffee and stale cookies and listened to mind-numbing gossip.

After they’d left, I asked Katie about her reluctant attitude.

“I know they’re horrible, but I’m tired of moving every few months, changing my hair color, my name, all of it.”

“But killing assholes like them is what we do, honey.”

“I know, but we could do other things. I used be a waitress. I could do that again.”

I hugged my wife, the love of my life, but I had to admit I was starting to worry about her attitude.

Two months went by without a kill and I was a ball of raw nerves. I knew Katie was too. If she was subduing her passions, it didn’t mean I had to. I decided to go hunting by myself that night. I told Katie I was going out with friends and not to wait up.

I decided to work a neighborhood not far from our new apartment. Who knows? Maybe I’d catch the Myer’s out for an evening stroll. I walked around a corner and sensed a presence behind me, but before I could react, a knife blade punctured my back, then three more quick stabs. I twisted around and fell face up. The figure standing over me suddenly knelt by my side.

“Oh my god,” whispered Katie.

I smiled. “There’s my girl.”

Frank

Our father passed away a week ago and my younger brother Tim and I were sorting through things in his house to keep, sell or throw out. It was a difficult and emotional task, but it had to be done. He’d outlived our mother by five years, and without her sense of order, had collected a lot of junk.

I found a shoebox in the back of a closet that contained a pair of worn leather gloves, some pens, paperclips and a few old photos. The first two were of family vacations. The third photo was a mystery. It was taken at night looking down a street I didn’t recognize. Off to one side was a person leaning against a car. It looked like a man, but the light was behind him so he was all in shadows. I flipped over the print and in my dad’s handwriting was the name, “Frank.”

Who was Frank? And why keep a photo of someone that’s only a black silhouette? Tim wandered into the room.

“Recognize Frank?” I asked, handing the photo to my brother.

He studied the image for a moment and his face darkened. “Don’t you remember? I used to have nightmares about a guy named Frank when I was a kid. He’d…do things to me and I’d wake up screaming. This looks just like him.”

“Yeah, I do remember now. But how could Dad have a photograph…of a nightmare?”

The Monsters Are Out

The neighborhood streets were alive with roving clusters of zombies, vampires, ghouls and monsters this Halloween night. I was escorting my four kids, trying to keep up with them actually, as they rushed from house to house, gleefully filling their bags with candy.

As we trooped down a dark side street, the porch light of an older home burst on. The kids instantly zeroed in on their target and ran whooping and hollering toward the house. Huddled together under the light, they rang the doorbell. I turned away for a moment. When I turned back, the kids were gone.

I was frozen with astonishment. I’d taken my eyes off of them for literally two seconds and they disappeared. Then the porch light went dark.

I ran to the front door and pounded on it, then rang the doorbell a half-dozen times, but the house remained dark. The back door was locked. Now panicked, I yelled for the children and pounded my fist on the door. I checked around the house for open windows with no luck. This was a nightmare. I was about to hurl a rock through a window when I was suddenly enveloped in light. A policeman was walking across the lawn towards me holding a flashlight.

“Thank god you’re here,” I called out. “My kids are in this house and I can’t get anyone to answer the door.”

“I’m aware of that, Sir,” said the officer, pulling handcuffs out of his belt.

“What are those for?” I said impatiently. “The kids are in the house.”

“Yes Sir, and none of them know who you are.”