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Read Wow Horror is my favorite genre I can't wait to read the stories and make my predictions

It was another day at work for Celia Jones. For her, that meant reviewing the newest books of the week for Today's Sun Magazine. Celia was nicknamed "The Countess of Evil" among authors for writing the harshest reviews anyone could imagine. One had a better chance of winning the lottery twice than getting a good review from her. Her meanest review was for the book "Sex, Love, And Magic" by Richard Anderson. As Celia stated in her review, the book was "about as romantic as a dog being neutered," "a complete mess," and "this book should be erased from existence." Although the book reached #1 on the New York Times bestseller list and was already in talks to become a big budget, feature length film none of that seemed to impress Celia. She e-mailed three reviews to her boss (none of them good) and then was going to take a nap when she heard a knock on the door.

Celia opened the door and saw a tall man with a mustache and red, flannel shirt standing there with a serious look on his face. He looked familiar, but Celia was unable to place him for sure. She figured he looked harmless enough. She might as well open the door and see what he wanted.

"Are you Celia Jones?" He asked, sternly.

"Why, yes," she said, smiling. "May I help you?"

"I'm Richard Anderson."

The name didn't ring a bell so Celia thought for a while, then remembered the book review she wrote the previous week for "Sex, Love, and Magic." She had gotten angry emails and phone calls from authors, publishers, and agents before but none of them had ever visited her house. This was a first.

"Oh, of course. Hello, Mr. Anderson. How are you?" Celia, figuring he was angry about her review. She was a little nervous and didn't know how to react.

"I'm well. May I come in?" Richard said, looking at the inside of her house. It was quite nice.

"Um, sure. I guess," Celia responded, forcing a smile. Truly she felt uncomfortable and wanted him to leave. Something about being stuck in the unfamiliar situation was enough to frighten her. So far the man neither said nor did anything to put her in fear, but she couldn't shake the feeling something was amiss. Maybe if she apologized he would go away.

"Look," Celia said "I'm sorry if you're pissed about my review. I actually liked the book but the thing is I've developed a cult following for being a bitch. Kind of like the Simon Cowell of book critics, you know? My fans would feel let down if I became too nice."

"I am angry," Richard responded, "but I'm not the only one who is."

"W-what do you mean?" Celia said, looking around for a weapon in case she needed it. She noticed the man's face becoming more hostile and bitter.

"Think of all the budding careers that have crashed and burned because of your reviews," the man shouted, his voice getting louder as he continued to speak, "Blood, sweat, tears, and SOULS put into this work and all for nothing because of you. Somehow people still respect you and listen to you despite you being the troll you are. Perfectly fine authors and their dreams you've destroyed only to preserve your reputation."

Celia's whole body tensed and her eyes filled with tears. Not only because of the intense fear that came over her because of this man, but the remorse of knowing he was right. Many bought Today's Sun Magazine just to read her outrageous, scathing reviews and she has sent books plummeting from #1 one week, to #20 the next week, and perhaps #50 after that. Celia considered calling the cops, but he hadn't technically committed a crime yet and she DID allow him in.

"Everyone, come in," the man opened the door and shouted. When he opened the door Celia was able to look out long enough to notice three black cars in her driveway. Suddenly the room was filled with

people. Thirteen in total. All of them authors whose careers Celia had destroyed with her rude remarks. Each one said their name and the title of the book they had written which Celia wrote a bad review for. Trespassers. Celia now had grounds to call the police.

"All of you get out. Get out or else I'll call the cops." Once they left she would never open the door for a stranger again. They all laughed in unison rather than taking her advice.

"It won't be that easy. You see, we're dealing with, shall we say, external forces," said an Asian woman who Celia recognized as Ling Li, author of "Sad Dragon, Happy Clown."

"Yes, she's right," Richard said. "You see, we're all part of a cult. Each one of us sold our souls to obtain success in the writing industry. Satan WILL deliver on his promise and we're not about to let you interfere. Hands together."

Each person locked their hands together and gathered in a circle around Celia.

"Satan, unholy Father, our master. Give us the success you promised. In exchange we offer not only our minds, bodies, and souls, but also offer this sacrifice in your name." They spoke in unison. Celia screamed and tried to duck underneath their arms to get away but it seemed as though an invisible barrier was blocking her.

"Someone help me! Please, help me!" She begged, Suddenly a red hole appeared in Celia's living room floor in the center of the circle. The entire room stared in amazement as you could hear the sound of flames crackling inside the pit. A demon which was the most grotesque sight imaginable rose from it, grabbing Celia and taking her with him back into the pit as she sobbed more deeply than she knew possible. The hole closed and she was never seen again. The cult of authors smiled, knowing they were avenged.

omg

Read, scared as fuck *leaves* I AM FUCKING HORRIBLE!!!

:( I suck at this... Everyone seems to be awesome at horror but it seems so hard to make a creative idea :(

There is an old saying that goes something like “It's nice to be important, but it's more important to be nice” which is exactly what young Tess had adopted as her mantra.

Tess was nothing but nice, wherever she went and in whatever she did.
If you’re nice, you’re not overly important. Simple. She hated it. For once, she’d like to be the important one. The girl people cared about.

Instead, she became a ball of anxiety thanks to her peers’ nonchalant uncaring attitude. Eventually, she had to leave school. The void grew larger with every single word left unsaid.

Soon, she refused to speak at all. She had to always write things down.

On paper she couldn’t be taken advantage of, she couldn’t be perceived as ‘the overly nice one’.
On paper,

she couldn’t be. (<Italics)

Simply put, Tess became a hollow shell of former self, and her parents Mark and Natalie became desperate. Mark suggested a therapist at first, but even then she refused to verbally communicate.

Her therapist, Daniel, referred to her as a lost cause in a recent conversation with her parents. Natalie sobbed and refused to believe that she’d never get her baby back but Mark being the hands-on man, decided to take things into his own hands.

When Natalie met Mark, she too was a shy little introvert. He eventually dragged her out to all the raging parties and even a few football games. She became a fully-functional extroverted adult again.

Maybe they should be questioning her genes. But they refused to believe that this kind of behavior was simply hereditary.
Today Mark and Tess stood side-by-side on the train.

Mark delves into his pocket and opens a new Note on his iPhone.

Are you feeling nervous?

He typed out with a grin on his face. He shoved the phone in her direction and she reads the message.

They enter a tunnel.

She grabs a hold of the phone and quickly types out her response.

No. You should be though. 

Mark peers over and reads it. Shocked he deletes the previous messages and types out a new one.

Why would I be?

He passes it back to her.
She grabs it again.

It was weird holding a phone again. She stopped using hers when she first dropped out of school over two years ago.
She distanced herself from social- enablers (or so her therapist Daniel calls them)

I’m gonna kill you… :-)

As she finished typing the phone screen changes. It was her mother calling. The ringing gained Mark’s attention and he snatches it from her.

“Hey Nat. We’re almost there” he stipulates without having read the other message from Tess.

Tess takes a step to her right, away from Mark and eyes off the homeless man beside her. She sympathizes with him but would also think for a brief second,

what if?

What if she had absolutely nothing like him?

Would it be so bad?

Would prison? …

.. At least she wouldn’t have to talk.

“Alright. I’ll do that. Love you, bye” Tess snapped out of her reverie and heard the last part of his conversation.

The message.

Tess reaches her fisted hand into her pocket watching the homeless man and then shifting her eyes to Mark.
Mark the snide bastard who has to ‘help everyone’.

She relaxed and took a deep breath.

***
“Hi mum, Mark is dead. People are staring at me. I’m the dead center of attention now. I should still be home for dinner. We need to talk.”

The people in the carriage were all screaming and crying.
The homeless man however felt no fear nor anguish. He was ready to die.

Which is why Tess saved him for last.

Mark kept a stash of Whiskey in the garden shed behind the planter boxes.
He was so naïve he’d have never thought Tess would find it. She empties the flask into her mouth and swallows all in one hit.

She takes the knife and approaches the pregnant woman.

“Please don’t hurt me” the African American woman with-child pleads. Tess looks down at her stomach and swipes.

The pregnant woman’s screams echo through the train.

A mess of blood and guts spill out onto the floor.

Everyone is petrified of what Tess will do next.

She turns on her feet and scans the crowd of commuters. A child grips to his mother, burying his head into her side.

“What are you afraid of?” Tess steps toward him, kneeling down to his level and ripping him away from his mother.

His cries are heartbreaking. He is utterly petrified. Tess grabs both his arms and shakes him viciously.

“Answer me, boy!”

She stops shaking him and pulls out her already bloodied knife.

The homeless man rises to his feet and objects.

“I will not let you harm that innocent child” he approaches her in the hopes of disarming her completely.
“I am the nice girl” Tess breaks down. She lets go of the little boy and instead swings at the homeless man.

“You don’t want to do that Tess” he dodges her attacks.

“How do you know my name?” tears start forming her eyes.

“It’s me, Clint” he remains calm. The bloodied, pregnant woman’s body slides up and down the carriage, narrowly missing them and the other commuters.

“Clint?” her voice breaks. She tries to recognize him, but he is so far gone she can’t really tell for sure.
Clint was her high school sweetheart before all the drama. They were inseparable at the time. But he broke it off once she started acting nutty.

He manages to gain a grip on her shoulders and the knife falls out of her hand.

“I will visit you every day Tess” he assures her as they pull into the station.

The train screeches to a halt and the police are waiting to arrest her.

“Don’t visit me!” she screams as they drag her away.

“I want the silence to consume me!”

My Brother

        I know I sound crazy, but please here me out, I am 39 now, married with 1 son. I love him more than anything in the world, but he has gotten to the age that reminds me of….my brother. He was nine and his name was Matt, I never told anyone what really happened to him, they would lock me up immediately and probably suspect that I was responsible for what happened to him, but I'm not I swear. I was about 20 years old when this all happened, and was working hard to keep up with our rent, which required me to take several low paying jobs, since I’d never gotten a chance to go to college due to my family situation. So as you can imagine I was extremely busy, I guess thats why I never really noticed what my brother was telling me until it was too late.
        We had just celebrated his ninth birthday, which happened to be on the same as the anniversary of our fathers death, he had loved us dearly, but he had especially  loved Matt, because he reminded him of our mother, who had died during complications during birth, which is rare for today, but as luck would have it, we got to experience it as a family. It was terrible, it took us a long time to recover from her loss. Then eight years later, My father was killed in a car accident, and I was forced to drop my college dreams to help Matt, who was not about to go to an orphanage if I could help it. Since I was 19 and a legal adult, they let me take care of him. It had been a whole year since our fathers death, and I was working late, when I got home at around 4 a.m. I was shocked to see Matt waiting on me when I walked through the door.
        “Daddy talked to me tonight!” he said.
        “Really?” I asked, I had assumed he had been dreaming.
        “Yes!!!!!! he said he was coming to see me in a week!!”, Matt squealed happily.
        “Oh thats good”, I said to myself, a sudden wave of grief came over me, I still had not recovered from my father’s loss, and this was not exactly helping.  “Matt get back in bed”, I said, exhausted.
        “Ok Sean!!”, He exclaimed happily and ran back to bed.
        “Stupid dreams”, I said to myself. I collapsed In my bed, and fell asleep almost immediately, fortunately having a dream-free sleep.  The next morning I awoke and went to the kitchen to make breakfast, Matt was already down there, eating some cereal.
        “HI SEAN!,” he shouted happily.
        “Hey”, I said taken aback by his happy attitude, Matt had become extremely reclusive and sad after our fathers death, now he was happy and active. for all the crap his dream had put on my mind, at least he was happy, and that made me happy. We went through the our usual daily routine, eat, I drive Matt to school, I go to work, I pick up Matt from school and then I go back to work.  When I got home he was up again, and just as happy.
“DADDY TOLD ME SIX DAYS!!!!!” he shouted at me. this time I was genially annoyed and worried, Matt’s mood swing and apparent conversations with “daddy” may be signs of mental issues, and that worried me, plus the fact that he could at least have fake conversations with our father, and I couldn’t, and that made me jealous. I went to bed late again, and told myself if he mentioned dad again I’d brake the truth to him. Needless to say I prayed I would not have to do it.
         Now it was Friday, the night I do not work late, but I did not have anything to do say I stayed home and put my brother to bed, I quickly went to be after him, as I was more exhausted than usual. I guess it was the emotional stress Matt’s dreams had been having on me. That night at around midnight my brother woke me up again, happy as he had been for the last few days.
        “Daddy told me only 5 days left!!!” He cried happily. I do not know if I was just was tired, or jealous or a combination of both, but I snapped.
        “NO HE DID NOT YOU RETARDED CHILD, IT HAS BEEN DREAMS, HE IS NOT ACTUALLY TALKING TO YOU!!!!!” I screamed in his face. Matt was crushed by what I said.
        “

“NO YOUR WRONG HE IS TALKING TO ME!!!!”, he shouted to me, the ran out of the room crying. The next morning when I woke up, He was not already awake, I could tell this meant he had gone back to his usual self, depressed and quiet, low and behold, I was right, except now he was even more depressed than before. He hardly talked to me for the next five days. And the mood and the apartment changed back to the somber and quiet one that I was used to. On Monday and Tuesday, he would hardly eat. I took off work on Wednesday because I was so worried about him.
        Then Wednesday night, it happened. We had just finished dinner, five days after I had shouted at him. Matt seemed anxious and a little hopeful, I had had enough of him so I was now ignoring him, that was a mistake. After dinner I laid down on the couch. Matt turned on the tv and just stared at it as if he was waiting for something, I was borderline asleep when he got up and walked over to me.
        “Goodbye Sean, I will see you when you come over”, He said solemnly. He walked into his room and shut door, and locked it. I heard the sound of a knife slicing skin, and then my eyes opened wide as I realized what had just happened. I ran to his room and attempted to open it, but it was locked, I pounded on the door shouting Matt’s name repeatedly, finally I broke the door down, and was greeted with an awful scene. My brother was lying on the floor, dead, a red smile on his neck where a knife had clearly cut him in the throat, killing him. I turned and walked to his nightstand, which was on the other side of the room to grab the phone to call 911 when I saw it. It was so terrifying that I never grabbed the phone, I bolted for the door, ran out of my apartment and never returned, not once to this day. What did I see? you ask, I saw the knife, covered in blood laying on the nightstand….

It, as it’s known by all the school children,
is no mystery.
It’s everyone’s fear and dastardly villain,
And it’d be best to flee.

Now, to describe It, I’d have to go back in time.
Back, back, back.
It would come out at the 12th chime
and the last thing you hear? Clack, clack, clack.

It’d rip your head clean off:
You’d be gone in five.
There would be a bloody cough.
You had your chance: bye bye!

The rivers would run red
for weeks to come.
And the news would spread:
you became It’s latest victim.

Your fate would join so many,
so many naive fools.
You were only twenty!
And now, you’re just a ghoul.

It would have so much fun
with its helpless victims.
He weighed one ton
and it had a small system.

This system was very simple:
kill or be killed.
The first time It was civil.
It’d let the tension build.

It would posses a loved one
and give you a choice.
Grab your things and run
Or kill your loving voice.

If you decide to run,
your fate is sealed.
You won’t see the sun
And you have no shield.

If you kill your relative
all will be well.
If you aren’t caught by the detective,
you’re going to hell.

It’s actually very easy
to sink your knife into someone.
It makes some people queazy,
but right there is the fun!

Now, of course, there’s a twist.
What if you could control It?
Your enemies cease to exist!
Of course, though, you’d have to submit.

It’s like giving away
to a good cause
But for morality’s sake,
you might want to pause.

“Murder?” you think.
“Well I would never!”
But, when you’re on the brink,
there’s always the endeavor.

So you’ve decided, huh?
You want to play with us?
Well, you better be rough
as you’ll have to adjust.

Your first task of three
is the easiest of all.
Pledge allegiance to thee,
and you’ll jumped over the first wall.

The second part
is a little more touching.
You’ll need the heart
either a goat or nothing.

The third part is a pact:
If your enemy fights,
You shall be tracked.
It will be your final night.

The game has been set.
It has been released.
There’s no way to bet
on who will be the feast.

There’s one more thing I must tell you.
There’s an extra part to the step.
And once you know it, you’re screwed.
It will make your heart stop for a sec.

You may inquire
on what It actually is.
Well, It likes a little bit of gunfire.
And It is more like his.

His is a man called Jango.
You might assume he was a serial killer, but you’d be wrong.
He is a cult leader who loved to tango.
With death, he nearly was signing a folk song.

If you allowed him to kill your enemy, he used hypnosis.
If you avoided him, he’d come to you and cock the barrel.
And there’s something about this poem which could a bonus.
By reading this, you have put yourself in Jango’s peril.

Good luck. You’re gonna die, most likely.
I’m not gonna rhyme this.
I’m serious. Call the cops.
He’s at your neighbor’s house.
He’s hypnotizing John. I’m sorry Delia, your life is over.
You’ve been targeted by your brother for the death of his dog.
You’ve never fought before. Your neighbor’s a martial artist. You. Are. Going. To. Die.
Goodbye Delia.

-Jango

The New York Times reported a murder in New York City’s Manhattan area. Delia Maizono has been found stabbed to death by her neighbor, John Daulton. John seemed to have gone insane from some sort of mental illness, although it is not certain what occurred. No matter the case, John will be sent to a mental institution. We hope to report back later on the scenario when more details are revealed to us. Condolences to the Maizono family.