Writing Scary Stories and Poems for Spooky Season
A good scary piece does not need a haunted mansion, a chainsaw, or a dramatic scream. Sometimes all it needs is a locked classroom after dark, a text from someone who should be asleep, or a shadow that appears in the wrong place.
If you are writing short stories or poems for spooky season, especially for a student literary magazine like The Typewriter, think less about shock and more about atmosphere, control, and surprise. The goal is to make readers feel uneasy enough to keep reading.

Start with something ordinary that feels wrong
Fear works best when it grows out of something familiar. A school hallway. A bedroom closet. A family dinner. A quiet bus stop. If the setting already feels real, one strange detail can do a lot of work.
Try this simple setup:
Pick a normal place you know well.
Add one detail that does not belong.
Let the character notice it slowly.
For example, instead of opening with “The house was haunted,” try: “Every night at 2:13, the hallway light turned on by itself.” That one detail creates a question. The reader wants to know who, or what, is turning it on.
For poems, the ordinary can be even sharper. A toothbrush. A mirror. A pair of shoes by the door. Let the object become strange through repetition, sound, or imagery.
Use tension before terror
A scare lands harder when readers have time to worry first. Do not rush straight to the monster. Build pressure.
Tension comes from delay. Let the character hear the noise before they see the source. Let the speaker in a poem describe the cold spot in the room before naming the ghost. Let silence stretch.
Good spooky writing often asks:
What does the character fear will happen?
What small signs suggest they might be right?
What does the reader know that the character does not?
Short pieces do not have much space, so every sentence should tighten the feeling. Cut explanations that release tension too early.
Make your language do scary work
Spooky writing depends on sound. Read your lines out loud. If a sentence feels too smooth, it may not fit the mood. If a poem feels flat, the sounds may need more bite.
Use hard consonants for sharp fear: click, crack, scrape, knock. Use soft sounds for dread: hush, breath, whisper, shift.
Specific images also help. “Something scary was in the room” is vague. “The closet door breathed in and out” is harder to forget.
For poems, try controlling the shape:
Short lines can feel breathless.
Long lines can feel like spiraling thoughts.
Repeated phrases can feel like a curse or warning.
White space can create silence.
A spooky poem does not need to explain everything. Sometimes the missing information is the scariest part.
Give your monster a meaning
The “monster” does not have to be a creature. It can be guilt, grief, jealousy, loneliness, pressure, or a secret. Readers remember scary writing when the fear connects to something human.
Ask yourself what the horror represents. A ghost might stand for unfinished business. A creature under the bed might stand for a truth the character refuses to face. A mirror that changes each night might reveal fear of growing up or losing control.
That emotional layer gives your piece weight, even if it is only a page long.
Revise for the final chill
Before submitting to The Typewriter, give the piece a careful pass. A strong idea can lose power if the ending feels rushed or the language gets cluttered.
Check for these things:
Opening Does the first line create a question or mood?
Pacing Does the fear build, or does it arrive too soon?
Images Are the details fresh and specific?
Ending Does the last line echo after the reader finishes?
Guidelines Does the piece follow the magazine’s current submission rules?
For endings, avoid explaining too much. A twist can work, but an image often works better. Leave readers with a sound in the wall, a name written where it should not be, or a final line that changes everything before it.
Let the reader carry the fear home
The best scary stories and poems do not end on the page. They follow the reader into the hallway, the parking lot, or the quiet bedroom at night.
Start small. Choose one strange detail. Build dread. Use sound and image. Give the fear an emotional reason to exist. Then revise until every line earns its place.
Spooky season is the perfect time to experiment. Write the thing that makes you glance over your shoulder, then make it clear enough, sharp enough, and strange enough to submit.
We can’t wait to read it!



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