when i was reading the book entangled life which is about fungi and the author merlin sheldrake said that once he got his first author copies he was going to dampen the pages and use them to grow oyster mushrooms and yeast and then use the yeast to brew beer and then drink the beer with the mushrooms to complete the cycle of fungal knowledge. i was like really and truly this guy gets it
me holding a gun to a mushroom: tell me the name of god you fungal piece of shit
mushroom: can you feel your heart burning? can you feel the struggle within? the fear within me is beyond anything your soul can make. you cannot kill me in a way that matters
me cocking the gun, tears streaming down my face: I’M NOT FUCKING SCARED OF YOU
"We both worked at Orchard but at separate times. He was there for a year, me a year later, then again the year after that. He went shopping there a lot and we talked some, then one day he asked me on a date and you know how things go. We had both gone to the same high school and didn't even realize it; never once had we seen or heard of each other. Funny how things like that happen."
This is a compiled list of some of my favorite pieces of short horror fiction, ranging from classics to modern-day horror, and includes links to where the full story can be read for free. Please be aware that any of these stories may contain subject matter you find disturbing, offensive, or otherwise distressing. Exercise caution when reading. Image art is from Scarecrow: Year One.
PSYCHOLOGICAL: tense, dread-inducing horror that preys upon the human psyche and aims to frighten on a mental or emotional level.
“The Frolic” by Thomas Ligotti, 1989
“Button, Button” by Richard Matheson, 1970
“89.1 FM” by Jimmy Juliano, 2015
“The Yellow Wallpaper” by Charlotte Perkins Gilman, 1892
“Death at 421 Stockholm Street“ by C.K. Walker, 2016
“The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas” by Ursula K. Le Guin, 1973
“An Empty Prison” by Matt Dymerski, 2018
“A Suspicious Gift” by Algernon Blackwood, 1906
CURSED: stories concerning characters afflicted with a curse, either by procuring a plagued object or as punishment for their own nefarious actions.
“How Spoilers Bleed” by Clive Barker, 1991
“A Warning to the Curious” by M.R. James, 1925
“each thing i show you is a piece of my death” by Stephen J. Barringer and Gemma Files, 2010
“The Road Virus Heads North” by Stephen King, 1999
“Ring Once for Death” by Robert Arthur, 1954
“The Mary Hillenbrand Cassette“ by Jimmy Juliano, 2016
“The Monkey’s Paw” by W.W. Jacobs, 1902
MONSTERS: tales of ghouls, creeps, and everything in between.
“The Curse of Yig” by H.P. Lovecraft and Zealia Bishop, 1929
“The Oddkids” by S.M. Piper, 2015
“Nightmare at 20,000 Feet” by Richard Matheson
“The Graveyard Rats” by Henry Kuttner, 1936
“Tall Man” by C.K. Walker, 2016
“The Quest for Blank Claveringi“ by Patricia Highsmith, 1967
“The Showers” by Dylan Sindelar, 2012
CLASSICS: terrifying fiction written by innovators of literary horror.
“The Tell-Tale Heart” by Edgar Allan Poe, 1843
“The Interlopers” by Saki, 1919
“The Statement of Randolph Carter“ by H.P. Lovecraft, 1920
“The Damned Thing” by Ambrose Pierce, 1893
“The Legend of Sleepy Hollow” by Washington Irving, 1820
“August Heat” by W.F. Harvey, 1910
“The Black Cat” by Edgar Allan Poe, 1843
SUPERNATURAL: stories varying from spooky to sober, featuring lurking specters, wandering souls, and those haunted by ghosts and grief.
“Nora’s Visitor” by Russell R. James, 2011
“The Pale Man” by Julius Long, 1934
“A Collapse of Horses” by Brian Evenson, 2013
“The Jigsaw Puzzle” by J.B. Stamper, 1977
“The Mayor Will Make A Brief Statement and then Take Questions” by David Nickle, 2013
“The Night Wire” by H.F. Arnold, 1926
“Postcards from Natalie” by Carrie Laben, 2016
UNSETTLING: fiction that explores particularly disturbing topics, such as mutilation, violence, and body horror. Not recommended for readers who may be offended or upset by graphic content.
“Survivor Type” by Stephen King, 1982
“I’m On My Deathbed So I’m Coming Clean…” by M.J. Pack, 2018
“In the Hills, the Cities” by Clive Barker, 1984
“The New Fish” by T.W. Grim, 2013
“The Screwfly Solution” by Racoona Sheldon, 1977
“In the Darkness of the Fields” by Ho_Jun, 2015
“The October Game” by Ray Bradbury, 1948
“I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream” by Harlan Ellison, 1967
HAPPY READING, HORROR FANS!
just learned that magnolias are so old that they’re pollinated by beetles because they existed before bees
So apparently, over the summer, Quibi (the shortest-lasting streaming service ever lmao) did a quarantine project called “Home Movie: The Princess Bride” where a bunch of celebrities recreated The Princess Bride in tiny chunks at home.
And like there was no permanent cast, all these celebrities seem to have gotten a scene or part of a scene to do (i’m not sure exactly, I did not ever watch Quibi and thus haven’t seen this yet), and then they just… recreated it as best they could. At home. Under quarantine.
So like, you had Jennifer Garner in a blanket cape playing Princess Buttercup AND the Booing Old Woman with a crowd comprised entirely of stuffed animals:
Or Taika Waititi paying Westley off a badly-drawn Inigo on a piece of cardboard held in front of someone’s face:
And it’s all just delightful.
But my absolute favorite part of this thing that I’ve sadly never seen but assume is probably absolutely hilarious and a treasure and I want to find it some day and watch the whole thing… is that Carey Elwes is in it.
As Prince Fucking Humperdink.
If you do something with your whole heart and it’s a mistake, you can live with that.
Florence Welch (via thespiritualslut)
"There is some inescapable part of me that yearns for you- and not just for your rough, cracked hands to lift my head by my intrusive chin and tell me that I'm handsome, or to run them down my arms and back up again, teasing me (encouraging me, even) to let go, and give in- but there's an element to me that flows through my body like sticky sweet blood that powers me, it moves me. And you know it.
You know that you drive me insane. I'm sorry that I can't give it all back to you. But you know that you have this ability to drive me wild and you manipulate it like you do me; every move is planned and has its purpose, like you're folding me into origami- a sitting duck, floating on a pool that's drenched in your aura, your fucking charm. You disgust me.
But, you rule me. I'm a slave to you. If you held my head down in that pool, I'd be blessed and rather then cry out "dear God, save me!" I'd only find the words to thank him for giving me what I've always wanted. You. I want you. Unfortunately for me, God has abandoned me- or at least he doesn't acknowledge me and that's more then I can say for you. Rather than be benevolent or silent, you torture me and you punish me for what I can have. I can have you- you know I can, otherwise you wouldn't abuse my affection so liberally, dragging me on, leaning in a little too close, whispering a little too soft, drawing my hand to yours and pressing it ever so slightly against your thigh- I could have you, if I wanted. And that's just the problem.
I don't want you. I don't, I don't, I don't. But I need you. You are a horrid person; I abhor myself for knowing that there is a capacity in me to fall so hard for someone that I'd call against my very nature. But you're also intoxicating. You've bewitched me; I'm drunk, I'm stoned. I'm poisoned. I long for your tongue to cross paths with mine- even if it means that you'll bite like the waiting asp you are and I'll die. But I'll die loving you.
You're so open about it. You openly sport your prey, your toys- when you're tired of them, they dissolve away into the background, and I've watched it. Women, they come and go- like a cycle of evaporation, they come, they dry- they leave. Women, you get rid of. But me...I'm different, because I am not one of them. I linger; I tell myself its because I am ice to you- I refuse to bend and show you how much it affects me, but I'm melting. Dripping. For you.
One day, I'm going to give in to you. This is my acceptance of defeat. I will never be able to resist you for much longer- but I wanted to have it stated, have it shouted, how much I bloody despise you despite the fact that you are all in the world that could ever make me happy. These words are my paper crane- a thousand of them, a thousand more never said and never written- and they are my deepest wishes. Come and claim me, whenever you are ready."
-siriuslyblackhearted
I’ve said it before, I’ll say it a thousand more times: No piece of dystopian fiction has ever been a prediction of the future. They are observations and criticisms of the present.