Making your reader scared isn’t easy.
Ironically, the harder you try to scare your reader with things like spiders and dungeons, the worse it will be.
So how do you write a story that makes your reader sweat? Let’s find out!
During the last stream, the subscribers voted that we talk about “how to write a scary story.”
Watch the full video here or scroll down for highlights.
Four things to keep in mind when writing a scary story:
#1. The anticipation is scarier than the actual scary thing
- It’s very hard to scare people with a monster, but it’s easy to scare with the anticipation of a monster
- Instead of throwing the main character in battle with a monster… build up to it. Show the destruction that it has caused in town, the disturbed people unable to speak.
- Instead of throwing the main character into an interview with a mental patient… build up to it. Show the security they have to go through, the experts who tell them not to, etc.
- Instead of throwing the main character into a haunted house… build up to it. Have some people tell stories about horrible things that happened in that house.
- The unknown is always going to be scarier than any actual, physical thing, so take advantage of it while you can!
#2. Normal things are scarier than scary things
- Spiders, centipedes, dungeons, mental institution, etc. are not scary on their own, in fact they’re kind of boring
- Imagine instead a preschool… but with an unknown man in a suit watching over a fence
- Imagine instead a restaurant… but with a single tooth served in every dish
- Imagine instead an amusement park… but with a ride that no one is waiting for but you
- Classic horror tropes are only scary when we care about the characters, so if you want to use them, be sure to develop your characters enough before you put them in those situations
#3. It’s all about pacing
- Be sure to set the scene/tone at the beginning, to make it feel real
- During the scary scene itself is the time to show and not tell, giving information is never scary
- Give the reader all the details of every moment: breathing, feeling, thoughts, etc.
Example: I was sitting on my bed doing geometry homework on my laptop when a crash came from the kitchen. Immediately I stopped, peeked out the crack of my door, and peered down the hallway, expecting to see the fluffy tail of Mittens come running by. But there was no cat. Not even a curious meow from wherever she was.
Only a dark shadow swooped by the crack.
“Mom?” I called out, surprising myself with the crack in my voice. There was no response, only another light clang from outside my room, as if whoever it was out there was purposefully trying to stay silent.
My arms prickled with cold blood as I slowly pushed myself off the bed to look out the window to the driveway. It was pouring rain at night, and my breath condensed white against the glass. Despite all that though, I could see one thing clearly. No should be home but me.
#4. Nothing is scarier than the betrayal of trust
- A Child Called It, The Girl Next Door, Flowers in the Attic, Misery, The Shining
- These are all examples of relationships twisted into horror
- If you truly want to terrify your reader, nothing will do it better than building up a happy relationship, and then slowly tearing it down into something horrific
- This also goes for twist endings, since it’s a type of betrayal of trust with the reader
- Just make sure that the twist still makes sense with the rest of the story, just like a betrayal of trust by a character still needs to make sense
After that, chat voted that we write a scary story based on this prompt: The forest trees always seem to creep closer towards your yard, no matter how much you prune them.
Here’s what we came up with:
Last summer I was doing yard work on a hot Saturday at home, outside of our little house in Philips, Wisconsin.
My job for the weekend was to set up a white wooden fence around our yard, to mark the boundary between our green grass carpet and the lush forest that lay beyond it. Our kids Molly and Richard had just gotten a puppy a few days before, a congratulations present to Richard for graduating elementary school, and we wanted to make sure little Cheddar wouldn’t run away when we let him out to do his business.
I spent all day Saturday finishing half of the fence, calling it a day once my entire blue shirt was stained purple all over in sweat. On Sunday morning, I got started early, wanting to finish as soon as possible so we could finally let little Cheddar run free.
As soon as I started, I noticed something was off. I looked down the line of fence I’d laid yesterday, which I’d measured to be about a foot away from the trees in the woods. I wanted to give a little breathing room for the fence door to open and close, in case we ever needed to go behind it.
But now, looking at it again, I must’ve messed up my measurements. The boundary of the forest was only a few inches away from the fence. I could barely squeeze through it if I needed to. I guess in my sweaty haze yesterday, I’d misread the measuring tape or something.
Groaning over my mistake, I spent the next hours digging the post holes in the new, slightly closer location. I couldn’t just remeasure them to be a foot away now, that would leave the fence all bent and warbled when I connected it to what I’d put up yesterday. I guess I’d just have to deal with squeezing through a smaller gap in the fence door if I ever needed to go back there.
Finally, by the early afternoon, the fence was done. The grassy backyard was enclosed by beautiful white wooden walls that came up to my shoulders. That should hold back Cheddar, unless he learned to leap higher than my head somehow.
Richard and Molly threw open the glass door to the backyard, excited to finally run around with the puppy. But Cheddar didn’t budge from the edge of the house. He stood there, staring out into the woods, whimpering and growling.
Richard thought he was just scared of all the new sights and smells, so he picked him up and carried him out. As soon as he stepped onto the porch with the dog in his hands, the little creature howled so loud and high-pitched like it was being eaten alive. The sound itself was enough to shock Richard into stopping in his tracks, and then Cheddar lashed out with his small claws against Richard’s arms, leaving red gashes as he dashed back inside.
The rest of the day was spent indoors, putting bactine and bandaids on Richard’s arms, while Molly happily played with Cheddar in the living room. She laughed and said that Richard must’ve done something wrong to upset Cheddar, since he was such a happy little dog.
The next day, when my wife took Cheddar and the kids to the vet for some shots, I went into the backyard to inspect the fence, to make sure it was still sturdy after yesterday’s installation.
The fence itself looked fine, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off about the trees. I wanted to inspect them closer, but when I gripped the handle for the fence door, I couldn’t even open it. I pressed against it as hard as I could, but it was already slamming against the tree trunks. That was impossible though. I’d been doubly sure yesterday to give at least enough room to open it up a few inches.
Still, I couldn’t argue with what was happening in front of me. Desperate to figure out what was going on, I climbed up onto one of the horizontal cross beams on the side of the fence and peered over the top.
The trees were pressed right against the fence. Their bark bodies were basically pushing against the wooden beams I’d installed, with their branches and leaves bent and twisted at all angles as if struggling to break through the barrier.
I slowly lowered myself down, not knowing what to think. Had I really messed up the measurements again? No, that was impossible. I’d been so careful. I’d seen the gap with my own eyes. But if that was the case, then there was only one other explanation, which I wasn’t ready to accept.
Everyone came home from the vet, laughing and playing with Cheddar in the living room. I spent the rest of the day sitting in my chair and staring at the forest outside.
The next day I left work early, to come home before anyone else. My hands were shaking and sweaty, all the way from gripping the steering wheel, to fumbling with the house keys, to latching onto the handle and opening the glass door, all the while hoping that it would all be okay.
I could already see it wasn’t before I even made it to the fence.
One of the trees was pushing its way between two fence posts, knocking them forward, right on the brink of falling over. Just a few feet down, another tree was dangling its branches over the top of the fence like long, spindly fingers.
My heart pounded in my ears with every footstep I took closer to the edge of the fence. Halfway there, I realized I wasn’t even breathing, and had to force myself to suck in and spit out the humid air.
I stopped in front of the broken beams and looked down the length of the fence. Cracks and bends I hadn’t noticed from further away were perfectly clear now, as were other, smaller branches expanding and growing through the gaps, reaching out like prisoners begging for a meal.
My hand unconsciously reached out toward the tree that had broken through the fence, my palm touching against its rough bark. There was something else there that I could feel besides just its skin, besides the dirt clinging to it and bugs winding across its body. I could feel something inside it, subtle yet powerful, beating very slowly.
It pulsed against my hand, like the heartbeat of an animal.
Lubb-dupp.
I recoiled my hand in disgust, and as soon as I did a howl came from behind me. Cheddar was outdoors, baring his teeth right at me. I feared he would attack me, but the little dog instead twisted itself backward and ran toward the other side of the fence, clawing its way right up the wall. It managed to dig its paws into the wooden beams, scraping down lines of wood splinters as it frantically wriggled its way over the top and onto the other side to the front yard.
I ran over to the fence, eyeing the deep claw marks for only a second before I peeked over to try and find Cheddar, but the dog had already disappeared.
By the time everyone else came home from school and work, I already had the house packed. There were many tears shed over Cheddar and moving away, but I didn’t pay any attention to them. Just like I didn’t look behind me through the glass door into the backyard.
Even now, a year later, I still wonder. I check the Philips paper every week to see if anything out of the ordinary has happened, but nothing yet.
What did they want? Why were they encroaching? These are the questions that now plague my mind, though I prefer them to another, far more terrifying thought.
Perhaps Cheddar, and the trees, were both trying to run away from the same thing.
If you want to join us and help write a story by trolling in chat, or share your own writing for feedback, then we’d love to have you join us on Twitch.
And you missed the stream, you can still watch them on the YouTube channel or watch the full stream reruns.
Hope to see you next time, friend!
Featured image: Pakutaso