Below, I have written five short horror stories for your perusing pleasure. Each story is different from the next, and each story horrific in it’s own right. Feel free to leave a comment down below with your thoughts.

5. Dementia

My grandpa has had dementia for longer than I have been alive. He spends his days pacing, talking to himself, and attacking the orderly’s who care for him. From what my family members tell me, he used to be an amazing man. A man whose hard work and determination always paid off. A man who would go to the end of this reality to care for his loved ones, stopping at nothing to make sure that they are full, clothed, and happy.

As it was told to me, one day, that all changed. He was around thirty five when he was tasked to go on a mission trip to an island where disease was devistating the local peoples. The trip was only supposed to be a month long, just enough time to find out what disease they had and its possible causes. After kissing my grandmother goodbye and hugging my father, he left for the unknown island.

No one heard from him for the next five years. A search and rescue team went to the island to find his group of twenty coworkers, but they didn’t find anyone. The island was completely empty of all signs of human life. No shelters, no clothing strewn about, or signs of a fire pit. It was as if human life never touched the island, period. My grandma lost all hope after three years and gave up the search.

Five years later, my grandpa showed up on my grandma’s doorstep, rambling about Them and speaking incoherently. My grandma tried for a few years to get her husband back on track and fix his life, but sadly, nothing she did could stop his ramblings.

He was diagnosed with dementia and placed into a care home for the mentally deranged. My family visits him every couple of months. Sometimes he recognizes us, sometimes he doesn’t. Today, however, was completely different from any other visit I’ve had with him.

I arrived at my normal time, seven in the evening, bearing cookies and his favorite pop, ready to spend some time with him. I walked into my grandpa’s room and saw him hunched over in the fetal position at the end of his bed, rocking back and forth. I placed my hand on his shoulder gently, trying to soothe him. He screamed so loudly I thought I must have hurt him. He jumped up, placing his hands on my shoulders and shook me.

“They’re here, they’re coming. I knew it would happen, I knew they’d get away, they’re here, and they’re coming!” He yelled as bloody tears streamed down his face. The orderly’s rushed in, pulling me out of the room, and injecting my grandpa with a calming serum. As I stood out in the hallway, I caught a glimpse of breaking news. The inhabitants of my neighboring town have all come down with dementia.

4. Taken

“Mommy, there’s a man in the kitchen,” The boy, aged seven, squeals.

“Now honey, I told you what would happen,” The mom starts but is cut off by her screaming son.

“He is wearing a clown mask!”

“Baby, I know. I told you that they would be. He is wearing a clown mask because the land where they are taking you is full of fun, laughter, and candy,” The mom whispers, barely able to hold back her tears.

“I don’t want to go with him! I want to stay with you, I love you!” The boy screams, his face wet with tears. The mom tries to soothe her son, rocking him back and forth gently as he had jumped onto her lap, squeezing her tightly.

The mom kisses her son on the head, “You have to go now, but just remember, I will always love you.”

The boy wails as he is ripped from his mother’s arms by the big man in a clown mask. He reaches for his mother as he is taken from his house. The silence becomes deafening once the boy is gone. The mother sobs loudly, rocking back and forth, knowing she is never going to see her son alive again.

There is a light knock at the door, so light the mother wasn’t sure if she heard it. She stumbles to the door and yanks it open. There is another man standing there, in a pristine business suite, wearing the same clown mask the other man wore.

“Hey there neighbor! Thank you for participating in this year’s harvest. All donations are greatly appreciated. Since it is your first time donating, here is the check that was promised,” The man says way too cheerfully, extending a gloved hand with the check made out for ten thousand dollars. The mother cautiously takes it.

“May your year be bountiful!”

3. Nail Clippers

I can’t take this anymore. I have seen every doctor, read every blog, and tried every herbal remedy I could to get rid of the sound of nail clippers. I have been diagnosed with tinnitus, sleep apnea, and a whole host of shit that has done nothing to make the noise go away.

For the past year I have been woken up at midnight each night to the sound of someone clipping their nails. It truly disgusts me. In the beginning, I would get up and search the house for nail clippings, but I never could seem to find any.

I started to file my nails down at night before bed because I thought that I must be waking up to clip my nails. After my fifth doctor’s appointment, I gave up and bought a video camera that I set to record me while I slept.

What I saw burned me deep in my soul. I watched as I woke up at midnight, grabbed nail clippers from my bedside table, and clipped my nails. When there was nothing left to clip, I would just rattle the clippers next to my ears for hours until I put them away and went back to sleep.

After I watched that video, I threw away all three nail clippers that I had. I decided that I will just stick with filling my nails and thought nothing of it, until a few days ago. I recorded another night and just the same, I woke up at midnight with the incessant sound of metal clashing on metal trying to clip my nails. In the video, I pulled out another pair of nail clipper from my nightstand, even though I thought I threw them all away.

I destroyed my entire apartment looking for the elusive nail clippers, but I never found them. After hours of searching, gritting my teeth, and pulling my hair out, I decided to end this once and for all. I grabbed a pair of plyers, and one by one, pulled each and every nail out of my fingers and toes.

It took a good hour to complete as it was hard to see through my tears and blood, but I finally got it done. My fingers are covered in bloody bandages that I have to change regularly, but I thought it would have been worth it, until last night.

Last night, once again, I awoke to the sound of nail clippers. I don’t know what else to do to stop this. Do you think deafening myself with bleach will end my misery?

2. Mayonnaise

Mayonnaise-the color of bread, walls, and vanilla ice cream. It is the same hue as bones, porcelain, and white roses.

You hand me a sandwich, with your creamy alabaster skin. White bread, yellow cheese, dull pink meat. It has the gooey and slimy perfect white mayo dripping out of the sides.

“Tha-thank you,” I mumble out as I avert your gaze. You smile sympathetically down at me. Judging me. Probably asking yourself how I ended up in this situation, this way of life.

“It really is no problem.” You say confidently as you turn away from me and stroll across the street, meeting what I presume to be a group of your friends.

I open the sandwich and peel the bread off to eat the meat and cheese first, savoring every bite. I hadn’t eaten in a week and this is God’s gift to me. I lick the mayonnaise off of the white bread, it’s salty and creamy texture coating my mouth. I moan quietly, not caring if people stare, and lick the bread until it is completely devoid of mayo and covered in my saliva. I shove the two pieces of bread into my mouth and chew quickly, not wanting to lose track of you.

I cross the street and stand a good twenty feet away from you and your friends. You talk about the latest game and make plans to go to some bar soon. I stand there for a couple of hours, just watching you gab on the patio of a restaurant.

“I’ve got to use the bathroom,” you call out to your friends. You glide away from them and make your way to the secluded restroom.

I follow behind you quietly, ensuring that I make no noise. You swing open the door and attempt to shut it behind you. But alas, you’re not quick enough. I push the door open swiftly, hitting you in the back. I watch as you tumble forward, a look of confusion spread about your face.

“What the fu—” You call out, but I punch you as hard as I can, to ensure your silence. You hit your head against the sink on the way down with a thunk. You land on the ground loudly. It scared me because I thought someone might hear, but luckily, the restaurant is too loud for anyone to hear.

I lock the door behind me, not wanting to be interrupted.

I lean my head near your mouth to ensure there is no breath left. You have died. Perfect. I lick your face, starting with your nose first. Your forehead. Your cheeks. Your ears. Your skin is the perfect shade of mayo.

The Little Faeries

Knocking on the window, a tiny faerie taps gently on the frost covered window. Chastity rushes over, as she does every night, and opens the window for her faerie friends. The cold wind blows inside of her bedroom, but she doesn’t care as her friends are here to visit.

They come inside, two by two, in all different colors. Chastity runs over to her toy box, pulling out some toys to play with.

“Not tonight,” the pink faerie states as a green one pulls the toy out of her hands. “We are leaving,” a yellow one says.

Chastity screams, “No! Don’t leave me!”

“Oh dear, we aren’t leaving you, you’re coming with us,” a blue one pipes up. Chastity dries her tears on her nightgown and sniffles.

“Where are we going? It’s cold out there.”

“Don’t worry, where we are going it will be warm,” the pink faerie whispers.

The faeries swarm Chastity, pulling her towards the window and out, carrying her into the deep, dark night, above the forest and into a secluded tree house.

After Chastity gets settled into the warm treehouse with her friends, she hears her parents screaming. “What’s wrong with mom and dad? Let’s go get them and bring them here!”

“No my sweet, they must stay home and face their destiny,” the yellow one squeaks.

“What destiny?” Chastity questions as her face turns a dark red.

“You see, before you were born, your mommy and daddy had a very hard time having a baby. They prayed every night to be able to have a baby as beautiful and as sweet as you are. Until one day, they prayed to the wrong deity. The deity promised them a wonderful little girl, for a price. Your parents agreed and off they went with you bundled up in their arms,” the green one sings.

“Your parents are so silly, they forgot all about their little deal. We found you outside playing in the forest, remember? We then became the best of friends! But while we were playing, we could hear voices, angry voices, voices discussing the many different ways to hurt you and your parents,” the pink one cries.

“We had to do something! We couldn’t let our very best friend get hurt, or worse! So we took you here, where you will be kept forever. You may never leave, but you will still be alive and will always be able to play with us!” The purple one squealed in delight as the faeries surrounded her, singing softly, drowning out the noise of her parent’s demise.

If you enjoyed these short stories, please feel free to check out more at http://www.reddit.com/r/frightfanatic. I post two scary short stories a week. If you would like to hear stories read aloud to you, please watch my Scary Shorts series on YouTube at: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCsnx_Bg4a_gbCH-SMTmvtog