Horror App Novels & Stories

To pay off my student loans, I started doing spicy streams online. I never thought I'd actually blow up. Every night, my audience floods the chat, fawning over my face and my body. I love the attention, and I work hard to give them what they want. Until I was dropped into a horror game. The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was a rotting corpse. And for some reason, my livestream was still running. When the game’s Boss told us all to pick a weapon to die by.

We ordered takeout we barely touched and curled up on the couch like it was the most natural thing in the world. Andrew handed me the remote. “Your choice.” I scrolled deliberately. “Horror.” He stiffened. “Lily.” “What?” “You know I hate—” “You do not hate horror,” I said. “You tolerate it poorly.” He sighed. “That is not the same thing.” Too late. I’d already pressed play. The lights were dimmed, the city glowing faintly through the massive windows. Thunder rumbled on-screen, the soundtrack immediately ominous. Andrew tensed beside me, trying—and failing—to hide it.

Facing all the chaotic events from morning, now finally I was excited to check what the app had to predict about my night time… But the moment I clicked open the notification and read the prediction, my blood ran cold, with dreadful chills running down my spine. My ocean eyes rolled in shock, and despite trying to make myself believe that it must be a mistake, I couldn’t slide my gaze off the sentence written in bold letters. “BLOOD, CLAWS AND DEATH.” What does even such a horrifying prediction mean?

Before he recovered he’d read all three books twice over and had become an irredeemable horror fan. After that, Sam spent every penny he had on DVDs, novels, and back issues of Fangoria, the more extreme the better. Horror gave him a place to put all his anxieties and fears, as well as a way to control and exorcise them. He lost his nervous tics, stopped getting bullied and took up running when he moved to his senior school. He never joined the popular crowd, but he managed to survive boarding school, and whenever things got a bit much, there was always horror.

During the one week he had received the complete numbers he needed to be able to directly contact the others of the paranormal site, the issue now was what app he would contact them with because the numbers were not long enough to be a phone number so he assumed they were an id of sorts. Just as he was still complaining, an email notification popped up on his laptop he opened it and saw a link to a site. He stared at the link suspiciously for a while before shrugging and clicking it, he didn’t have much of a choice, and the faster he had information about who or what they were dealing with and how to handle his powers, the better. The link sent him to a d******d page for a game. The game was

I opened the app store and typed in “séance.” Stupid. I knew it was stupid. But I didn’t have a dusty old Ouija board or some gothic medium on speed dial. I had my phone. And right now, it was the only thing between me and the silence. I picked one with decent reviews: “SpiritLink: Connect with the Beyond.” It had the kind of silly interface you’d expect, candles, a board, swirling letters. But it said it used “energy-sensitive microphone response.” Whatever. I just wanted a way to call him.

The others turned toward us, confusion in their expressions. “It’s just a precaution,” I said. “A safeguard, in case the app’s data ever falls into the wrong hands.” Romilly folded her arms. “What kind of code?” “A virus,” Rex answered. “A self-destruct mechanism. One command, and it wipes the entire app.” Dariel inhaled sharply. “You’d destroy the Radiant App?” “If it means making sure those bastards never get their hands on what we’ve built yes,” I said without flinching. “If there’s a major breach, if they gain stable access and start pulling data…”

’ Mary asked. ‘Well since our lovely Eira wants to forever carry children for strangers, I found the perfect app for it.’ Eira scoffed giving them a pointed look. ‘What app?’ Fatima asked placing her chin on Bushra’s shoulder. ‘It’s called a Surrogate App, you just fill in your bio with your surrogacy history and they help you find a client. Sort of like a dating app, the only difference is that you wait for them to message you first inquiring about it. Then you set up a meeting, and well the rest goes from there.’ Bushra explained. And, so began the fascination for the app. She was able to create an account and fill in the most important details, and even added a few pictures of herself. It

I haven’t been listening to Liz and when I tune in she’s talking about the new guy she met on mythinder. It’s a dating app for mythical beings meet up to hook up. The weirdos she’s found on there are insanely weird thought. Supposedly there are vampires, sirens, and were-bears on there. I’ve only met other werewolves, so the thought of there being others out there puts me on edge. I’ve told her crazy ass not to use the app anymore but she thinks it’s fun. She says the sex is good and swears were-bears have the biggest dicks. “I’m worried you’re going to end up chopped up and thrown into a bag,” I tell her.

Seated at the rooftop of her house Cassandra stared at the skyline of New Orleans for the millionth time and, again the same thought plagued her mind, ‘Darkness bounds within her; Andrea says it’s destructive, yet she’s a human, not a ghost. If it consumed her in its cage, why doesn’t it kill her? … so, she can transform into a blood-sucking monster crawling people’s heart out and devour it until the last shred of it disappears.’ The noxious craving of death isn’t new nor old, it’s deceptive as the month of Halloween.