Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Horror.
Chaonei No. 81: The Most Haunted House in Beijing
Chaonei No. 81, situated at Chaoyangmen Inner Street in Beijing, is among China's most famous haunted houses. The three-storeyed brick mansion, built in French Baroque revival style during the early twentieth century, is a protected historical building owned by the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Beijing. While architecturally notable, it was missing archive records and the building's long, degraded silence that stirred the public imagination—prime for speculation.
By Kyrol Mojikal11 months ago in Horror
SEASON 2 : Whispers from the Lantern: The Keeper's Lament
Chapter 3 The drive back to the mainland was a tense and silent one. The team, a group of hardened professionals, were now a group of terrified children. The whispers from the lantern room were still in their minds, a constant, low murmur of sorrow and grief.
By Tales That Breathe at Night11 months ago in Horror
The Whispers Beneath the Well
: The village of Dharmora was small—tucked deep within the mountains, where mist clung to the trees like ghostly fingers. Its people were simple, their lives quiet and unchanged for generations. But at the heart of the village stood an old stone well, long sealed with iron bars and bound in rusted chains. No one fetched water from it anymore. The villagers said it was cursed. They whispered that something inside it whispered back. Arif, a young traveler and writer, arrived in Dharmora one foggy evening. He had heard stories about the “Cursed Well” and thought it perfect for his next horror novel. The villagers tried to dissuade him. “Don’t go near the well after dusk,” warned old Haji Rehman, the village elder. “It speaks when the moon is high, and those who listen never sleep again.” Arif laughed it off. “Old stories,” he said. “There’s always a reason behind superstition.” Rehman only shook his head. “Sometimes, reason has no place in what hides beneath.” That night, Arif couldn’t resist. He took his lantern, notebook, and camera and headed to the old square. The mist was thick, swallowing sound. The air smelled of wet stone and decay. He found the well—massive and ancient, the stones slick with moss. The chains rattled softly in the wind, though the air was still. He knelt beside it, shining his lantern down through the cracks. Darkness. No bottom in sight. “Hello?” he called, half amused. His voice echoed faintly, as if swallowed by something waiting. Then, from below, came a whisper. Soft. Breathy. Not echoing—but answering. “Arif…” He froze. His name. He hadn’t told anyone where he was going. He leaned closer. “Who’s there?” Silence. Then again—fainter this time: “Set me free…” The lantern flickered. He felt a cold gust rise from the depths, brushing his face like fingers tracing his skin. A foul smell followed—something like rotting flowers and burnt metal. He stumbled back, his heart hammering. He told himself it was the wind, an echo, imagination. But deep down, something told him the voice had been real. The next morning, Arif woke up pale and trembling. He had dreamt of a woman’s voice whispering in his ear, begging him to unlock the chains. He decided to return, this time in daylight. When he reached the well, he noticed something odd—the chains were looser, as if someone had been tugging at them all night. The padlock was cracked, hanging by a thread. “Impossible,” he muttered. “It was fine last night.” He crouched, examining the ground. There were no footprints. But there were marks—scratches—long, deep grooves in the stone, leading from inside the well toward the surface. He shivered. That evening, the fog came early, heavy and thick. The villagers locked their doors before sunset. Arif stayed in his small room, trying to write, but every time he set his pen to paper, he heard faint whispers outside his window. At first, they were soft. Then clearer. “Arif… open it…” He pressed his hands to his ears, but the voice was inside his head now—coiling, pleading, angry. He couldn’t take it anymore. He grabbed his lantern and ran back toward the square. The villagers who peered from behind curtains swore they saw him—his eyes wide, his face ghost-white—heading straight to the cursed well. No one knows exactly what happened next. But the following morning, when Haji Rehman and a few others went to the square, the chains were gone. The iron bars were twisted open. And Arif’s lantern lay beside the well—its glass shattered, flame long dead. There was no sign of Arif. Only a single page from his notebook remained, half-burned, half-wet. On it, a single sentence scrawled in a shaking hand: For weeks, the village was silent. Livestock died mysteriously. People heard crying near the well at night. The air smelled of decay again. Then, one by one, villagers began to vanish. Always at night. Always after they heard a whisper. The well was resealed—this time with concrete, and a shrine built over it. No one spoke of it again. But if you visit Dharmora now, some nights when the fog is heavy and the moon is thin, you can still hear a woman’s voice beneath the earth—soft, mournful, patient. Calling a name that changes every year. And if you ever hear your own name whispered back… Don’t look down. Because she’s still waiting for someone to listen
By Iazaz hussain11 months ago in Horror
Black Phone 2 - A Movie Review
Evil returns in any shape or form. Black Phone 2 rang into theaters again after its 2022 predecessor. After escaping the terrifying captivity, now 17-year-old Finn and his younger sister, Gwen, receive phone calls and experience disturbing dreams about three boys being stalked at a winter camp known as Alpine Lake.
By Marielle Sabbag11 months ago in Horror
Room 13B
Room 13B By Hasnain Shah When Julia arrived at the old brick townhouse just outside Boston, she was already regretting her decision to book an Airbnb instead of a hotel. The listing photos had shown a warm, antique charm — mahogany floors, a vintage armoire, and a cozy bay window looking out over the Charles River. But the actual place felt… off.
By Hasnain Shah11 months ago in Horror
Halloween Killer
Halloween is a special time of year, it means free candy and dressing up as your favourite fictional character. It is a holiday especially loved by those who love horror. However, once upon a time in Saint Francis, Milwaukee, there was a murder in the 31st of October unlike anything anyone had ever seen. A strange call was picked up by the police that night, at exactly 9:35pm. There had been a teenage house party that had already gotten out of control, young women were screaming in the background of the telephone call as the caller cried; "oh my god, there's been murder in my house! Somebody dressed in a Halloween mask and blue overalls, looking like something out of a horror film!" "Slow down, remain calm!" The operator breathed, "how many are injured?" "Injured?! Somebody's dead here!" "But nobody else was hurt?" "No!" "Ok... What happened?" "I think it was a guy, it might've been a girl, I don't know! They- they were dressed up head to toe, I couldn't make them out beneath their stupid Halloween costume." "You said they wore a mask, can you describe it to me?" "Ok, ok..." The caller calmed down, but the people in the background still cried and yelled in terror. "It was green, like a glow in the dark hockey mask... I think." "Ok, that's a good start. Is the killer still in the house with you?!" "I- I- I don't know!" The caller screamed. "Ok, lock you and your guests in a secure room. Please tell us your address and no matter what, stay on the line!" "Ok... Ok!" The caller told his address, then said, "everyone follow me, we got to hide someplace safe!" "Where are you all now?" The operator asked after a few minutes. "We're all in my bathroom, I locked the door." "Is the lock good?" "Not really." The caller sighed. "Well don't worry, we've sent two police cruisers to your home address, you must stay on the line but remain quiet until help arrives, do you understand?" "Yes..." The caller whispered, nervously. Eventually the police showed up and busted into the house, evidence of a party was everywhere, obnoxious pop music still played from the stereo at full blast and there were empty bottles of alcohol everywhere. The place was a mess, but in the middle of it all, right in the center of the living room lay a woman's bloody body, one that had been slashed seven times across the chest. It was gruesome! The survivors exited the downstairs bathroom once the police told them it was safe. A thorough investigation was put into action, but unfortunately there weren't any surveillance cameras in the area. Detectives found footprints and knew where the killer exited from, but not much else. None of the survivors knew who this mysterious killer was, almost like they were a stranger off the street who just blended in amongst the masked crowd, waiting for their moment to strike. The murder took place in 1998 and still to this very day, nobody can even guess who this mysterious Halloween Killer may be. Only that he likely took inspiration from one of the many slasher films that were hugely popular at the time. A case of fan obsession gone way too far.
By Joseph Roy Wright11 months ago in Horror
Whispers Beneath the Willow. AI-Generated.
There was a willow tree at the edge of the village — tall, ancient, and always trembling, even when the wind was still. No one went near it after dark. The elders said the roots were tangled around something not meant to be disturbed.
By shakir hamid11 months ago in Horror
