Two Sentence Horror Stories

I got the idea to write a few two sentence horror stories a few months ago. After pondering the idea for a couple of days of how I could accomplish the telling of an entire story in just two short sentences, I accepted the challenge to push myself and other horror writers to do the same. I have always said that I want for writers to better themselves and with a little friendly competition,  I am upping the ante by knocking back the amount that is written while at the same time delivering a fright.

Try to do this for yourself; it is not as easy as you may think. One wrong word, comma, or quotation here or there will constitute that the sentence must be split and making a third sentence, thus defeating the purpose. Too many words will become a run on and too few will not give the reader the best picture that you are trying to convey.

Feel free to write me and tell me what you think. If you like them, thank you. I had the pleasure of knowing that I entertained you.

If you hate them, blame Shawn, Dusty, and Chassity. They wrote them all on their own and forged my name.

 

 

I had never seen my father look so handsome in his suit as the way he did when he walked up the road to our house. I remember the last time I saw him wear that suit was when we buried him in it.

 

Carol’s new secretary rushed through the door and exclaimed “Your husband Phillip called and said you needs you at home; it has been broken into”. Carol’s spine tingled with fear as she uttered “Phillip died last year.”

 

Every Mother’s Day I make an attempt to visit my mother’s grave. One day I expect that when I show up she will actually be buried there.

 

“Mommy, do you still love me?” she asked with childlike innocence in her eyes. “Of course I do honey, now put down the knife and tell your Father you’re sorry.”

 

You should never be afraid of the dark. At least that is what the old lady under my bed tells me every night.

 

Jessica lived by herself when one day she heard the phone ring. She turned to her closet door and thought, “That’s not my ring tone.”

 

I’ve always hated clowns. I think it came from all the years that Daddy would dress as one and try to sing us to sleep.

 

I like to people watch at the park or at the mall. Other times your bedroom window works just as well.

 

They tell me that you can never go back home again. Not since Mommy had her accident with the razor at least.

 

Ralphie was told never to go into the woods alone. Not being one to disobey his mother, he dragged his little sister’s lifeless body with him.

 

Renfield Rasputin writes horror and gets distracted very ea……

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