Captain's Log A Short Horror Story

Hey guys! I'm excited to share my first attempt at a short horror story. I've always been a huge fan of the genre, and I finally decided to try my hand at writing one myself. I hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think in the comments below.

Captain's Log, Entry 1

• Stardate: 67890.1
• Location: Uncharted Space
• Crew Status: Nominal

Our mission, as the brave crew of the starship Odyssey, is to explore the vast, inky blackness of uncharted space. We're boldly going where no one has gone before, and honestly, sometimes I wonder if there's a good reason for that. Space, you know, it's pretty darn creepy. We've been drifting through the void for what feels like an eternity, the silence broken only by the hum of the ship's engines and the occasional crackle of the comm system. The crew is starting to get a little antsy, and I can't say I blame them. The endless blackness can play tricks on your mind. It’s like the universe itself is holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. This sense of foreboding has been building, a knot in the pit of my stomach that refuses to unravel. I’ve tried to brush it off, tell myself it’s just space madness, but the feeling persists. Perhaps it's the isolation, the sheer distance between us and anything familiar. Back on Earth, you're surrounded by people, by noise, by the comforting predictability of daily life. Out here, it’s just us, the ship, and the endless, silent expanse of the cosmos. We are so far removed from anything that we know, and it is quite unsettling.

We received a strange signal earlier today, a faint, rhythmic pulse emanating from a nearby star system. It was barely audible, a whisper against the cosmic static, but it was there. Protocol dictates that we investigate any unusual signals, so we've altered our course and are heading towards the source. I can't shake this feeling that we shouldn't be doing this, that we're poking a sleeping giant. It's probably nothing, just some natural phenomenon, but what if it isn't? What if there's something out there, something ancient and powerful, that doesn't want to be disturbed? But curiosity, or perhaps it’s just my duty, compels me forward. The crew is eager for a change of pace, something to break the monotony, but I can see the apprehension in their eyes too. We all feel it, this prickling sense of unease. We’re trained explorers, scientists, and soldiers, but out here, we're just fragile beings adrift in a sea of the unknown. I just hope, for everyone's sake, that we don't regret this. The signal is getting stronger as we approach the system, and the rhythmic pulse seems to be resonating deep within the ship’s hull. I can feel it, a subtle vibration that makes my teeth ache.

I've ordered the science team to analyze the signal, to try and decipher its origin and purpose. They're working diligently, pouring over waveforms and data streams, but so far, they've come up with nothing conclusive. The signal is unlike anything we've encountered before, its pattern complex and alien. It’s as if it were speaking a language that we don’t yet understand. Every time it pulses, a shiver goes down my spine, a visceral reaction that I can't explain. It’s more than just a signal; it’s a presence. We’ll continue to monitor and analyze, but the closer we get to the source, the more uneasy I become.

Captain's Log, Entry 2

• Stardate: 67890.5
• Location: Orbiting Unknown Planet
• Crew Status: Deteriorating

We've arrived at the source of the signal: a desolate, rocky planet orbiting a dying star. It's a bleak and forbidding place, the surface scarred by ancient impacts and shrouded in perpetual twilight. The atmosphere is thin and toxic, and the sensors are picking up strange energy readings emanating from the planet's surface. Guys, this is where things get really weird. As we entered orbit, the rhythmic pulsing of the signal intensified, and the ship began to experience some...malfunctions. Flickering lights, erratic sensor readings, and a general sense of unease permeated the vessel. The crew is on edge, jumpy, and morale is plummeting faster than a Klingon warbird. We’ve seen a few weird glances going around, some hushed whispers in the corridors. Everyone can feel that something is wrong, something profoundly wrong. The science team is baffled by the energy readings, saying they are unlike anything they've ever encountered. It's as if the planet itself is alive, breathing, pulsating with some dark, unknown energy. The signal seems to be originating from a massive structure on the planet's surface, a colossal monolith of obsidian-like material that towers over the desolate landscape.

It's too massive to be a natural formation, guys; it’s gotta be artificial, which means someone, or something, built it. And whatever built it, I have a bad feeling about. I considered turning the ship around, cutting our losses, and running like hell back into the comforting emptiness of space. But that signal…it’s a siren’s call, drawing us in, promising answers to questions we haven't even asked yet. We’re explorers, after all, driven by an insatiable curiosity, a need to understand the unknown. So, against my better judgment, I've authorized an away team to investigate the monolith. I know, I know, it’s probably a terrible idea, straight out of a B-movie horror flick, but I can't shake this feeling that we need to know what's down there. We need to understand the signal, the energy readings, the monolith itself. And we need to know now. The away team, led by Lieutenant Commander Sarah Jenkins, is preparing to depart in the shuttlecraft Icarus. I watched them go, a knot of worry tightening in my chest. Sarah is one of my best officers, brave, intelligent, and resourceful, but even she looked pale and drawn as she boarded the shuttle. I tried to offer her a reassuring smile, but I’m sure it came across as strained and weak. This mission feels like a one-way ticket, and I can't shake the feeling that I'm sending them to their doom.

Captain's Log, Entry 3

• Stardate: 67890.7
• Location: Orbiting Unknown Planet
• Crew Status: Critical

This is Captain Eva Rostova of the Odyssey. I'm making this log entry under duress. The away team landed near the monolith approximately two hours ago. Initial reports were…unsettling. The team described an oppressive atmosphere, a palpable sense of dread that seemed to emanate from the structure itself. The air crackled with static electricity, and their equipment was malfunctioning intermittently. They reported strange whispers on their comms, voices that seemed to be speaking in a language they didn't understand. Guys, this is where the story takes a really dark turn. Then, the comms went silent. Just…silence. I tried hailing them repeatedly, but there was no response. Nothing but static. My blood ran cold. I ordered a full diagnostic of the comm system, but everything checked out. The problem wasn't with our equipment; it was something else, something…down there.

I felt a surge of panic, a primal fear that threatened to overwhelm me. I wanted to order the Icarus to return immediately, but I knew it was too late. Something had happened to them, something terrible. I had a terrible feeling wash over me, the same feeling you get before the jump scare in a horror film, that moment when you know something awful is about to happen, and you can’t do anything to stop it. The rhythmic pulsing of the signal intensified, resonating throughout the ship, making the bulkheads vibrate. The lights flickered violently, and the ship groaned under some unseen pressure. The crew is in a state of near-panic, their faces pale and drawn, their eyes wide with fear. I tried to maintain a calm demeanor, to project an image of control, but inside, I was terrified. I felt like we were trapped in a nightmare, a cosmic horror story unfolding around us. And then, it started. Crew members started reporting…visions. Hallucinations. Nightmarish images flickering at the periphery of their vision, whispering voices in their minds. Some screamed, some wept, some simply stared blankly into space, their eyes filled with a vacant horror. The ship was descending into chaos, and I was losing control. I have a strong feeling that this was caused by the monolith itself, a psychic assault that was tearing through the crew's minds. Whatever built that thing, it had defenses, and they were incredibly effective.

I ordered the ship to move away from the planet, to break orbit and retreat into deep space. But it was no use. The ship wouldn't respond. The controls were locked, frozen in place. We were trapped, caught in the orbit of this hellish planet, at the mercy of whatever malevolent force resided there. I felt a cold dread seep into my bones, a certainty that we were all going to die here. This log entry may be my last. If anyone finds this, know that we didn't go down without a fight. But we were outmatched, outgunned, out…everythinged. There's a pounding on the door to the bridge now. A frantic, desperate pounding. And a voice, a distorted, inhuman voice, is calling my name. I have to go. Oh, God, I have to go.

What do you guys think?

So, that's it! My first short horror story. What do you guys think? Did it give you the chills? What did you like? What could I improve? I'm eager to hear your feedback. I'm thinking of writing more of these, maybe even turning this one into a longer story. Let me know if you'd be interested in reading more! Thanks for reading, and sweet dreams…or maybe nightmares!