Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Horror.
Magic on Whisper Street. Content Warning.
The moon leered out at the children as they walked. Which children you ask? It’s Jack and Amy Kramer age 11; they are fraternal twins. They walk with purpose. The objective is to get candy. They lived on Whisper Street and that was a very special street. Halloween magic existed here. Since they were highly imaginative children, they could easily access this magic.
By DJ Robbins8 months ago in Horror
3:17 AM.
The first thing people noticed about Building 9A was how quiet it was. Too quiet. No children played in the corridors. No televisions hummed behind closed doors. Even during the day, the building felt frozen in time, as if sound itself refused to stay there for long. But the rent was cheap, and the city was expensive, so people moved in anyway. Jack didn’t believe in bad signs. He was tired, broke, and desperate for a fresh start. When he moved into Building 9A, he thought he had found peace. What he found instead was a phone call that would follow him into his grave. On his third night in the apartment, Jack woke suddenly, his heart racing for no clear reason. The room was dark, the air heavy, and then his phone vibrated on the table beside his bed. The clock read 3:17 AM. The screen lit up. Incoming Call Caller ID: Jack His hands trembled as he stared at the screen. Assuming it was some kind of glitch, he answered. At first, there was silence. Then breathing. Slow. Panicked. Familiar. “Jack,” a voice whispered. It was his voice. “Do not open the door,” the voice said. “No matter what you hear.” The call ended. Jack sat frozen, convincing himself it was stress, a prank, anything logical. But logic failed him when screaming echoed through the hallway minutes later. The next morning, police sealed the apartment across from his. Mrs. D’Souza, a quiet elderly woman, had been found dead inside her locked apartment. According to the report, the time of death was 3:17 AM. Over the following days, patterns emerged. Everyone in the building received phone calls. Always at 3:17 AM. Always from their own number. Always in their own voice. The calls warned them—don’t turn on the lights, don’t look in the mirror, don’t open the door. Those who ignored the calls didn’t survive the night. One tenant laughed it off and answered his door when someone knocked after the call warned him not to. Neighbors found him collapsed in the hallway, eyes wide open, mouth frozen in a scream. The building began to feel alive, watching, waiting. Jack started researching Building 9A. What he found made his blood run cold. Twenty years ago, the building had burned down in a massive electrical fire. The incident killed everyone inside. The structure was declared unsafe and demolished. Yet here it stood. Occupied. Breathing. Digging deeper, Jack searched the list of victims. He found his own name. Jack — Age 16 — Deceased Memories flooded back violently. Smoke. Flames. His mother screaming for him. The pain. The darkness. He remembered dying. Building 9A wasn’t real. It was a scar in time, a place where the dead relived their final days on repeat, unaware of the truth. The phone calls weren’t warnings—they were messages from the moment of death itself, looping backward, trying to delay the inevitable. Those who listened survived a little longer. Those who didn’t were pulled back into the fire. On the seventh night, Jack’s phone rang again. “Tonight is different,” his future voice said calmly. “Tonight, it ends.” The walls began to change. Paint peeled away to reveal blackened concrete beneath. The smell of smoke returned. The building groaned as if remembering its final breath. Jack heard screams echoing through the corridors—screams that had happened twenty years ago and were happening again now. “You can’t escape,” the voice said. “You already tried.” The lights flickered violently. The floor grew hot beneath his feet. At exactly 3:17 AM, the illusion shattered. Building 9A vanished. Firefighters arrived to an empty lot after reports of smoke. There was no building. No bodies. No record of anyone ever living there. Except for one thing. A smartphone lay in the center of the lot, its screen cracked but glowing. Incoming Call Caller ID: Unknown The clock read 3:17 AM. .....THE END..... The real terror isn’t death. It’s realizing you already died—and never escaped.
By Rosalina Jane8 months ago in Horror
Stories Told At Twilight
A 300-word flash fiction regarding the above image: She never noticed the pale blue of her eyes until now. Pressing the palm of her hands against the cold porcelain sink, she sank deeper into her own gaze. Her eyes were not only pale but striking.
By Anne House | Author8 months ago in Horror
The Haar: A Fog That Hides More Than You Want to See
Short introduction The Haar is a short horror novel set in a quiet Scottish coastal town. It mixes folklore, grief, body horror, and revenge in a way that feels both strange and oddly emotional. On the surface, it looks like a creature feature. But once you start reading, you realize it’s really about loneliness, loss, and what happens when someone finally decides they’ve had enough of being stepped on.
By Rosalina Jane8 months ago in Horror
Hell Without Fire: Why A Short Stay in Hell Quietly Ruined My Peace
Short introduction A Short Stay in Hell by Steven L. Peck is a very short novel, almost novella-length, but don’t let that fool you. It’s one of those books you finish quickly and then keep thinking about for way longer than you want to. It falls under horror, but not the usual kind. There are no monsters, no gore, no shocking twists. Instead, it deals with eternity, punishment, and what happens when hope is stretched way past its breaking point. It’s quiet, simple, and somehow deeply unsettling.
By Rosalina Jane8 months ago in Horror
Someone Has Been Watching Me My Whole Life
The first time I saw him, he was standing beside my mother’s grave. Clad in a black coat, with no umbrella and an emotionless face, he stood perfectly still. Rain soaked his hair, yet he didn’t move, only gazing at her name carved into the stone. When he caught me watching, he looked up and smiled.
By Rosalina Jane8 months ago in Horror
REVIEW - The Sanguine (Directed by Patrick McNerney and Daniel Jones)
This excellent film, produced and directed by Patrick McNerney and Daniel Jones (with the latter also writing and taking an on-screen role as The Elder) blends folklore with fantasy, creating a suspenseful and scary short.
By MegaFlix Movie Awards8 months ago in Horror
The Giant Who Never Spoke
The rain was coming down in sheets that night, drumming on the old tin roof like impatient fingers, and I was maybe twelve, curled up on the porch swing with a blanket that smelled like pipe tobacco and my granddad’s coat. He didn’t talk much anymore-age had stolen most of his words-but stories? Those he still had. He’d lean back in his rocker, eyes half-closed, and let them spill out slow, like molasses in January.
By KWAO LEARNER WINFRED8 months ago in Horror
The Character Who Isn’t on Payroll
Posted to r/nosleep I work at Disneyland. I won’t say my department, but I’m close enough to characters that I see schedules, handoffs, rotations—the boring, logistical side of “magic.” Which is why this has been driving me insane.
By V-Ink Stories8 months ago in Horror
The Animatronics Don’t Power Down Anymore
I’m 17 and I work closing shifts at Chuck E. Cheese. If you’ve never closed one before, let me explain something real quick: the place does not go quiet after the last family leaves. The lights dim, the arcade hums, and everything smells like grease and sanitizer. You hear noises that don’t belong to anyone anymore.
By V-Ink Stories8 months ago in Horror
