Fantasy
7 Men Survive in a Horror, Dark Bungalow
Chapter 1: The Breakdown The rain lashed hard against the forest road as the old bus groaned to a stop. The driver muttered a curse—engine dead. Seven passengers, all strangers, stepped into the storm. None of them knew where they were, except that they were far from help. Amid the trees, they saw it—a crumbling colonial bungalow, cloaked in vines and shadow. Its iron gate creaked as they pushed it open. They had no other choice.
By Engr. Mansoor Ahmadabout a year ago in Fiction
The Last Letter in the Bottle
The glass bottle glinted under the fading sun, half-buried in the damp sand of Crescent Beach. Its green curves caught the light like a winking eye, a secret washed ashore by the restless tide. I’d come here every summer since I was six, chasing waves and dreams with my sister, Lila. She’d sprint ahead, her laughter brighter than the gulls’ cries, her bare feet kicking up foam as she dared me to find treasures in the sea’s offerings. Shells, driftwood, once even a shark’s tooth—she called them gifts from the ocean. But Lila was gone now, stolen by a riptide last July, the kind that snatches breath and futures in seconds. I was sixteen, and the beach felt like a graveyard, each wave a reminder of her absence.
By Muhammad Abuzar Badshah about a year ago in Fiction
Lights Over London
“Madam, you should come below.” Dickie stood in the doorway, his voice gentle, but firm. Outside, the sky flashed with bursts of light. But this was no celebration—it was war. Bombs were falling across London, and everyone was supposed to be in the safety of the shelters.
By ibrahim khanabout a year ago in Fiction
Whispers of the Moonlake
Chapter One: The Lake That Remembers They say the Moonlake sings only for those who have truly loved and lost. No one knew this better than Elira, the girl with stardust in her hair and silence in her heart. For three long years, she walked the shores of the cursed Moonlake, whispering the name of the boy who vanished beneath its silver surface—Kael.
By Shakespeare Jrabout a year ago in Fiction
The King's Jewel
It was all anyone in the kingdom could talk about for months: Princess Lovely was finally of marrying age. King Kaiser's subjects were all abuzz with gossip and questions about her once the decree went out, as no one had been allowed to look upon the princess for years. Some speculated that she'd died, and the royal family conducted her funeral in secret. Others suggested that she'd been disfigured in a tragic accident, hiding deep in the bowels of the palace out of shame. The most popular theory, however, was that her beauty was so great the king kept her prisoner; believing no other soul was worthy to look upon her.
By Natalie Grayabout a year ago in Fiction
Oh, Winnie!
The other day I spent some time with an old friend. I read his stories over and over again. He likes to sit and think a lot of the time, but he is never sure of what he is thinking for he is a bear of little brain, so he thinks. He enjoys his friends and his favorite snack. He knows right from wrong for he tries to help but always seems to get into a fix of some kind or two. So, he thinks and sings a little tune till something pops into his small mind. Silly ole bear.
By Mark Grahamabout a year ago in Fiction
The Nun in the Dark
It was Ava’s first week in Willow Creek, a quiet, fog-covered town buried deep in Indiana. She had moved there for a fresh start, a slower life, and a clean break from the noise of the city. Her aunt had left her a small cottage near the edge of town, close to the woods. The place felt old and forgotten, like time moved differently there. Ava kept to herself, but curiosity pulled her out one Friday evening. At the gas station, a group of local teens stood around smoking and daring each other to do stupid things. When they saw her, they called her over. “You just moved here, right?” one of them asked. She nodded. “You know the old church on the hill?” They all turned to look at the dark silhouette of a building just beyond the treeline. St. Agatha’s Church. Its spire leaned like it was trying to fall. The windows were black. The trees around it were twisted and bare, even in summer. “It’s haunted,” said another. “They say something crawls inside it at night.” Ava laughed, trying to play along. “Bet you won’t go in,” one of them challenged. “I will,” she said. She should have walked away. That night, around 10:30, Ava stood at the foot of the hill, alone. The wind howled through the trees. Her phone battery was dying, so she brought a flashlight. The climb to the church was steep. Every step forward made her stomach sink deeper. The front doors creaked as she pushed them open. Inside, it smelled like wet wood and rotting fabric. Dust filled the air. Pews were broken and scattered. Torn Bibles lay open on the floor. The ceiling had caved in at the center, and vines hung like ropes from the rafters. She stepped carefully, her flashlight beam flickering. Then she heard it. Crawling. It wasn’t footsteps. It was something soft, fast, and too smooth to be human. It came from behind her. She froze. The sound grew louder. A wet scraping across the floor. She turned. And saw her. A woman in a shredded nun’s habit. Her limbs were too long, bending backward like an insect’s. She moved on four thin legs, her body jerking like a puppet on invisible strings. Her face was pale, stretched, and wrong. Two glowing eyes stared straight into Ava’s. The thing didn’t speak. It just kept crawling forward. Ava couldn’t move. Then the nun opened her mouth, and a sound like wind through broken glass whispered, “You shouldn’t have come alone.” Ava dropped her flashlight and ran. She didn’t scream. She didn’t look back. She reached the church doors and burst into the night. And that was the last time anyone ever saw her. When the teens returned the next morning to prove she hadn’t gone, they found the church door wide open. Her flashlight lay just inside, cracked. Her phone was never found. The police searched the hill and the forest for days. Nothing. No footprints. No signs of a struggle. No body. The case went cold. But the townspeople still whisper about the girl who disappeared. Some say if you stand near the church at night, you can hear crawling just behind you. Some say you’ll see a pale woman in a nun’s dress watching from the broken window, her eyes glowing like fireflies in the dark. No one dares to go in anymore. Not even on a dare. To Be Continued......
By CreepVille Horror Storiesabout a year ago in Fiction
