The biggest thing to remember when wanting to write a scary story is that you have to freak out your reader. That begs the question, “How on earth do I do that?” Well, in my opinion, the easiest thing is to pick something that actually scares you. Then, you already know how you feel when you encounter it. Now, some might laugh it off, like the grief folks get when they tell you that they are scared of butterflies. But, there will be some that will feel that shiver down their spine. Especially if you do it right.
For me, there is nothing scarier than being possessed by a demon. You are paralyzed in your own body while you watch something making you into a horrific puppet to make the lives of you and your family a living hell—literally. The demon makes you do things you would never do in normal company. It damages the host, sometimes starving it or mutilating it. So, taking that idea and combining it with the point of view of the exorcist, well, I had a good starting point.
But, keep in mind that you will likely always find someone who is scared of something. So, don’t be afraid to approach anything that you come up with. Even the butterfly people aren’t completely wacky. In Eastern Europe, Serbia to be exact, a butterfly can be the soul of a vampire. And, I’m not talking about sparkly ones either. These are the true undead, the creatures crawling right out of the grave to kill you and swallow your soul.
So don’t let the haters fool you, sometimes, their bravado is just that. They laugh to cover up their fear.
Jones crept around the side of the massive home. He looked this way and that like they taught him in the academy. This was the first time something serious had gone on in Sorrow’s Point. He set his jaw, bound and determined to do the best damn job he could.
The sheriff’s footprints pressed into the tall grass, making it easy for him to know where to look. They led him to the back of the house and stopped as soon as they reached the stone patio. Something smelled sour-sweet. Flies would be swarming along soon. He walked up the steps and across to the door. The smell grew stronger, but he didn’t notice anything else out of the ordinary. Suddenly, his foot slid and he almost fell. His eyes drifted to the patio. A pile of puke almost the same color as the stone coated the bottom of his shoe. “Great.”
Backing up a step, he wiped his shoe on the stone as best he could. Then, sidestepped the puddle and peered in the window. Black was there, sitting at a butcher block table, facing the window. His dark hair stood up from his head in all directions. Eyebrows arched like the Devil's own. The deep red blood covered him, almost from head to toe. He took another bite out of the small human leg he held in his large hands, grinding his teeth through the raw flesh.
“Oh shit.” Jones shook, unable to release his death grip on the windowsill. Then, the world shifted.
Jones peered down the smoking barrel of his gun, following the path through the broken window. He hadn’t meant for the gun to go off. He didn’t even remember reaching for his weapon. Black’s chin slumped against his chest, the back of his head gone. Bits of gray matter stuck to the wall behind him. Black’s fingers relaxed. The leg fell to the floor.
About the Author:
Named one of the Examiner's 2014 Women in Horror: 93 Horror Authors you Need to Read Right Now, Danielle DeVor has been spinning the spider webs, or rather, the keyboard for more frights and oddities. She spent her early years fantasizing about vampires and watching "Salem's Lot" way too many times. When not writing and reading about weird things, you will find her hanging out at the nearest coffee shop, enjoying a mocha frappuccino.
To learn more visit her her website or blog. You can also follow Danielle on Twitter, Facebook, or Instagram.