From slashers to psychological horror, the genre is truly vast. One popular horror niche is the short horror story. Horror short stories are appealing because they are often a single-sitting venture, and they’re fun! If you love a good, quick, deeply unsettling story, shorts are the way to go. As a horror fan and a writer, learning how to write a short horror story has been one of my favourite adventures.
After working on novels for years, I’ve discovered that horror short stories actually have my heart. From cozy horror to supernatural, there are many different styles, but a few crucial elements will make any horror short story work. With that, let’s explore how to write a short horror story that stands out.
Why Writing Short Horror Stories Works So Well
Horror thrives in the short form. A single unsettling idea, when delivered with precision, can leave readers shaken long after they’ve finished. Unlike sprawling novels that take their time to build dread, a horror short story works quickly. It pulls readers in, unsettles them, and delivers a sharp emotional punch.
Fans love short horror films because they distill everything they enjoy about the genre into a brief, intense experience. Writers love it because it provides a playground to test ideas, explore fears, and practice techniques without the commitment of a novel.
I know this firsthand. One of the stories in my collection, Uncovered: The Story of Eva Courtland and Other Spooky Tales, started as a single spine-tingling idea: An evil, spooky puppeteer. The image formed in my mind, and it was so unsettling that I had to write it out. That fragment grew into a super fun short horror story that made the cut for the book.
How to Write a Short Horror Story
If you’re eager to try your hand at writing a short horror story, here’s a step-by-step guide that covers everything from tiny idea to final polish. I hope that learning how to write a short horror story is just as much fun for you as it was for me!
Step 1: Start With a Fear at the Core
Every great horror short story begins with a single, primal fear. You don’t need elaborate mythology or a ten-page prologue. You need one unsettling concept to anchor the entire story. Even a “longer” short story of several thousand words doesn’t have room for complex exposition or layers and layers of story. Focus on your chosen fear, whether it’s a concept, an image, a character, or something else.
Ask yourself: What fear keeps people up at night? What’s a universal dread that almost anyone can connect to?
Some examples:
- Being watched when you’re alone.
- Losing control of your body.
- A trusted loved one changing into something unrecognizable.
- Darkness that feels alive.
The key is focus. Unlike novels, short stories can’t afford sprawling themes. Zero in on one fear and let everything else orbit around it.
A classic example is found in Shirley Jackson’s The Lottery, where the fear stems from blind tradition. As the story goes, the horrifying power of community rituals left unquestioned builds to the final, horrible reveal: the one chosen by the “lottery” is put to death as a sacrifice to ensure a good harvest.
This is not the only story that explores such an idea, but the way this one builds tension and poses questions until the very end is what makes it stand out.
Step 2: Choose a Tight Setting
Usually, a short horror story doesn’t have space for multiple settings. In fact, the smaller the canvas, the stronger the impact. Confinement builds tension. Don’t limit yourself to a single setting as an absolute rule, but it’s a good guideline when learning how to write a short horror story.
Think:
- A motel room with peeling wallpaper.
- A playground after midnight.
- A hospital corridor that seems to stretch longer than it should.
- A haunted, abandoned motel.
One location, used well, can carry an entire story. In my own tale, The Playground That Wasn’t There, the setting itself becomes a trap, almost its own character. Readers never leave it, which adds to the feeling of suffocation and dread.
When in doubt, choose a familiar setting, such as a kitchen, a schoolyard, or a bus stop, and twist it until it feels unfamiliar and threatening. Placing the reader somewhere they can picture themselves being will make the experience you’re about to serve them much more visceral.
Step 3: Build Atmosphere First, Then Terror
Atmosphere is horror’s secret weapon, especially in short form. Before you show a monster, a ghost, or a violent act, you need to create the sense that something is wrong, even if readers don’t quite know why. When you don’t have much room for exposition and word-building, atmosphere is everything. It sets the tone for what you’re trying to do in the story.
Practical ways to do this:
- Use sensory details: the scrape of branches against glass, the smell of mildew, the hum of electricity in an empty room. Without overdoing it, you want your readers to understand precisely what your character is experiencing.
- Play with light and shadow: what’s half-seen is scarier than what’s revealed. Darkness itself can be a character, a villain, or even a friend at times.
- Let the setting act like a character: make it unpredictable, menacing, alive. Maybe the trees seem to breathe. Perhaps the wind whispers unspoken secrets. Let the sunlight, the rain, the darkness itself cause goosebumps, hallucinations, madness.
Think of atmosphere as the scaffolding of your story. Without it, the scares fall flat. With it, even the simplest action, like a door creaking open, feels unbearable.
Step 4: Develop Characters Quickly but Effectively
Readers need to care about your characters almost instantly. You don’t have the word count to deliver full backstories, but you can sketch someone vividly with a single quirk, habit, or detail.
Examples:
- She always kept her sunglasses on indoors. Nobody asked why.
- His hands shook whenever he heard the sound of children laughing.
Those little traits tell us enough to feel intrigued. They hint at details of a history and backstory without diving into explicit information. For instance, maybe the woman with the sunglasses has a scar she’s self-conscious about. Perhaps the man lost a child or a young sibling, and the sound of happy children is triggering. Each reader may infer slightly different things, but these small details effectively give life to your characters in almost no time at all.
Even in short horror stories, emotional investment matters. We fear most when we fear for someone.
Step 5: Master the Pace
Short stories live or die on pacing. You don’t have time for lengthy introductions. There’s no room for detailed and neatly packaged resolutions. Start close to the action, and let tension escalate from the first page.
Imagine your story as climbing stairs: each paragraph should bring the reader higher into unease. No flat landings, no detours.
Some key techniques to keep pacing sharp:
- Begin with a moment of disturbance rather than calm. It doesn’t have to be the climax. It can be the first thing your character notices that’s off, such as a knock at the door, a strange delivery, an interaction with a stranger, moving into a new house, etc.
- End paragraphs on unsettling beats to push readers forward. Think of these as little mini cliffhangers. Unsettling dialogue, noticing something that doesn’t make sense. Learning how to build suspense in a short horror story is crucial for achieving the right pace.
- Cut transitions that don’t add tension. There’s plenty of room to linger in a novel; sometimes it’s even necessary to set the next scene. However, knowing how to write a short horror story means learning how to maintain sharp tension. For example:
- “Emma walked down the hall and stopped at the end. She wondered what to do next. After a moment, she decided to open the door. She reached out, turned the knob, and stepped inside.“
- Becomes: “Emma reached the end of the hall, door already ajar. She pushed it open, and the darkness inside seemed to lean toward her.”
If you ever feel like you’re stalling, you probably are. Trim until the momentum feels relentless. In short horror stories, transitions like “she thought about it,” “after a while,” “next she did this” rarely add value. If they don’t raise atmosphere, dread, or stakes, cut them. Jump straight into the moment where tension builds.
Keep in mind that this can be done in the second or third draft. No story will ever be perfect on the first pass. If you need to “draw out” the action like in the first example to get your characters where they need to be, that’s fine! Finish your story, and trim in the editing phase.
Step 6: Deliver a Memorable Ending
Ultimately, a horror short story is judged by its ending. Readers forgive simplicity or brevity if the payoff leaves them stunned.
Three types of strong endings:
- The Twist: Reveal something surprising but inevitable. The best twists feel both shocking and logical in hindsight.
- The Open End: Leave the last image unresolved, so readers’ imaginations torment them after the story is over.
- The Shock: End on a brutal or grotesque moment that sears itself into memory.
Whatever you choose, circle back to your central fear. A story about loss of control should end with the ultimate surrender. A story about being watched should end with the watcher revealed.
Everyone has a different style and a unique way they prefer their stories to unfold.
Personally, I love a cryptic, cliffhanger-type ending where the resolution is either horrible and tragic (the classic “realizing I’m stuck in a loop” or “can’t escape the cursed playground” classics) or open for interpretation. As a writer of horror short stories, my goal is to leave my readers with a sense of existential dread. I want to keep them awake at night as they think, “What was that?” or “What’s even real anymore?”
Occasionally, I’ll give a more “final” or “satisfying” ending if it feels right (such as in Departed Garments from my debut collection), but usually I want you to question everything!
Step 7: Edit Your Short Horror Story for Precision
Horror short stories typically fall between 1,500 and 5,000 words. Each sentence must justify its place. Every new setting must be necessary. Every piece of dialogue must have a purpose.
When revising, ask yourself:
- Does this sentence add atmosphere, tension, or character? If not, cut it.
- Is this scare earned, or am I rushing? If so, drop more clues, add more sensory details, slow the tension.
- Can I replace this cliché with a fresher image? This is where a thesaurus can come in handy, as well as a “writer’s journal.” Whether it’s a physical journal or a note on your phone, it’s worth jotting down images, visuals, metaphors, or unique words that come to mind or that you encounter on the go. Sometimes, a “clichéd” image or phrase may be the best fit. However, often you can come up with something stronger, which adds dimension to your story.
Horror thrives on suggestion. The more efficient your prose, the stronger your impact. It’s okay, and even encouraged, to leave a little to your reader’s imagination.
Common Mistakes to Avoid When Writing a Short Horror Story
Even if you feel like you’re no longer a beginner, it’s easy to fall into these common short horror story traps. It’s okay if they turn up in your first draft, but be ruthless when you edit:
- Explaining the monster too much: Fear dies under too much light. Bogging your reader down with details slows the pace and quickly makes the monster or threat less scary.
- Confusing gore with horror: Blood doesn’t equal fear. The imagery can add flavour, but suggestion is often more disturbing. Sensory details add the dread; if there’s blood, describe how it feels dripping down an arm, spreading across skin, how it sounds splashing onto the ground.
- Dragging your feet at the start: Short stories should begin in motion. I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve written a first draft and cut out 500-1000 words from the beginning. Some things are unnecessary, others can be drip-fed throughout the story.
- Forgetting human stakes: Readers connect to characters, not shadows. If the character doesn’t matter, the horror won’t land. Be efficient with your writing, but don’t neglect your characters. Flesh them out through their reactions, their dialogue, their quirks.
Examples of Great Short Horror Stories to Study
Novels may take center stage, and not everyone is interested in learning how to write a short horror story, but that doesn’t mean we don’t have our heroes. Iconic writers like Stephen King and Edgar Allan Poe have taken the plunge and created some tales that are so dreadful, they’ve achieved icon status.
Read the following short stories as you keep in mind all you’ve learned. Which techniques do they use? How quickly do they build tension? How necessary is each scene? What style of ending do they have – and did it scare you?
- The Tell-Tale Heart by Edgar Allan Poe — paranoia and guilt distilled into just a few pages.
- The Lottery by Shirley Jackson — proof that horror doesn’t need monsters to terrify.
- The Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Perkins Gilman — a chilling blend of gothic and psychological horror.
- The Playground That Wasn’t There (from my collection Uncovered: The Story of Eva Courtland and Other Spooky Tales) — an example of how a simple, innocent setting can be turned into something nightmarish.
Studying the classics (and contemporary works) will give you a sense of the range short horror can cover. And don’t be afraid to read bad or mediocre stories, either. You can learn just as much from a piece by a writer less experienced. What worked, and what didn’t? Did they attempt a specific horror writing technique that didn’t work? If the ending didn’t quite land, what would have made it better for you?
While I’ve written quite a few short horror stories myself, I’m far from an expert. If you read one of the stories in my book and it didn’t live up to your expectations, I’d love to know why! Feel free to drop your criticisms in the comments; there’s always room for improvement.
Putting it Into Practice
Try this quick exercise:
- Pick a fear (e.g., being trapped, losing your reflection, hearing voices that no one else can).
- Choose a confined setting (a bathroom, a forest clearing, an abandoned bus).
- Write 500 words where the tension builds but doesn’t resolve. Focus on mood, pacing, and unease.
This exercise helps you practice atmosphere and pacing without worrying about the ending. Later, you can expand it into a complete story. Many of my 2000+ word pieces began as a 500-word scene that got away from me. My story Waiting for Rain was meant to be a piece of flash fiction, but my characters had other plans!
How to Write a Short Horror Story: Final Thoughts
Learning how to write a short horror story is about taking a single fear and sharpening it until it cuts deep. With the proper focus, setting, and pacing, you can terrify readers in just a few pages and keep them thinking about it long after the lights are out.
If you’d like to see these principles in action, check out my collection Uncovered: The Story of Eva Courtland and Other Spooky Tales. Each story was crafted using the very techniques I’ve shared here. You’ll find ghosts, uncanny spaces, and unsettling twists, all in compact stories designed to haunt you.
So grab your pen, face your fears, and start mastering how to write a short horror story. Remember: the best ones don’t just scare, they linger.
6 Comments
Alyssa · September 8, 2025 at 3:25 pm
I used to be hooked on horror movies and short stories; the kind that left me checking the locks twice before bed. ???? What always fascinated me, though, was where writers get these ideas. Do they draw from personal fears, everyday settings with a creepy twist, or just pure imagination?
Reading your breakdown about starting with a single fear and building atmosphere really resonated with me. It explains why some of the scariest stories I’ve read weren’t the bloodiest; instead, they took something ordinary, like a hallway or a neighbor, and made it feel terrifyingly wrong.
I’m curious, do you personally keep a “fear journal” or jot down unsettling images or ideas as they come to you? And when you write, how do you balance leaving enough mystery for the imagination while still giving readers a satisfying scare?
Steph · September 8, 2025 at 3:33 pm
Sometimes the ideas come from pure imagination! But sometimes I’ll see, read, or hear something that sparks an idea; it can be as simple as a news report or a random image on social media, and it just creates something in my mind. I write it down and build a story off it.
I do keep a bit of a “writer’s journal” where I record little things that I think may turn into a cool idea or an element of a story. This way, when I have that little spark, I have some additional ideas and threads to draw on to create a proper narrative!
In terms of leaving enough mystery, it certainly takes practice to strike the proper balance. I’ve written stories where I gave too much away, and some where I didn’t give enough. The best thing I have found is to share the stories with fellow writers or avid readers and get feedback. I also place myself in the shoes of the readers. If I read this, would I be able to figure out the mystery too easily, or is there not enough to make the ending feel earned? It’s all about practice and experience, and there’s always room for improvement!
Thanks for stopping by 🙂
Jenny Crockford-Honiatt · September 9, 2025 at 4:15 am
This is such an insightful breakdown of why short horror stories work so well and how to craft them effectively. I especially like how you emphasized atmosphere as the “scaffolding” of horror—it really is what makes even the smallest detail feel sinister. I’m curious though: when you’re writing, do you usually come up with the fear first and then build the setting around it, or do you sometimes start with an eerie setting and let the story grow from there?
Steph · September 9, 2025 at 5:50 pm
Oh I definitely do start with setting sometimes, or sometimes it starts with a character! The spark can come from anywhere. This guide is just to get you started – you can do the steps in any order you want!
The Investor · September 9, 2025 at 10:05 am
I think your advice to build tension through subtle details—like a character noticing something slightly off in a familiar place—instead of relying on overt scares is an effective way to create unease. The tip about using constrained settings to amplify claustrophobia and limit escape routes immediately gives a story more inherent pressure.
Writers might not consider how the pacing of reveals is just as important as the reveals themselves; letting the reader sit with a disturbing implication can be more powerful than explaining it right away.
You mentioned using sensory details beyond sight and sound, like smell or touch, to deepen immersion. Are there certain types of sensory descriptions you’ve found to be particularly effective for horror? Also, when crafting an ending, how do you decide whether to provide a resolution or leave the horror lingering and unexplained?
Steph · September 9, 2025 at 5:49 pm
Interestingly, I think the sense of smell can significantly heighten the fear factor when used properly. If I’m picturing myself in a dark, eerie, and cold room and it ALSO smells like death or decay… peak fear, I think. But really, the best thing you can do is create a good balance of sensory details. If all you’re describing is what a character hears but nothing else, the reader won’t be able to place themselves in the scene.
In terms of deciding how to end a story, I sometimes don’t know exactly how to end it until I’m at least a few scenes in. Sometimes I see the whole story before I even start. Either way, my personal style is to leave my stories cryptic, open-ended, and a little open to interpretation. However, sometimes, the story progresses in a way that has a natural resolution. That said, even in the case of a definitive ending, I still like to hint that all may not be as it seems!