Latest Stories

Most recently published stories in Horror.

The Gashapon Shelf. Top Story - August 2025.
Ruth and Maisie set up the attic as a guest bedroom. The big feature to the room was the grand circular window that looked out over the neighborhood and shone the perfect amount of morning light throughout.
By Amos Gladeabout a year ago in Horror
My Mother’s Voice Is in My GPS
My Mother’s Voice Is in My GPS I’d had the new navigation system installed because the old one had started glitching. It was nothing serious—just delays, the occasional frozen screen—but after my mother passed away three months ago, I wanted everything in my life to be as smooth as possible. Grief makes you impatient with little frustrations.
By waseem khanabout a year ago in Horror
The Forgotten Road
Rain pelted against the windshield, each drop illuminated briefly by the car’s headlights before sliding away into darkness. It was late at night, and the sky above rumbled like an old beast awakening from a long slumber. Arif had been driving for hours when his GPS suddenly chirped with a new suggestion—a shortcut that would save him thirty minutes. “Let’s see where this takes me,” he muttered, turning the wheel. The new road was narrow, winding, and completely deserted. Dense trees pressed in from both sides, their branches swaying in the wind and rain, whispering to each other in some secret language. There were no other cars, no streetlights—only the dim beams from his headlights cutting through the darkness. After about twenty minutes, Arif spotted a faint light in the distance. As he drew closer, it revealed itself to be a small gas station with an attached convenience store. A faded sign above the building read: “Zahid Travel Stop.” The gas gauge was dipping low, so Arif decided to stop. “Might as well refuel and grab something to drink,” he thought. The moment he stepped inside, a damp, musty smell hit him. Behind the counter stood a middle-aged man with an expressionless face, his eyes void of any warmth. “Fill the tank and give me a bottle of water,” Arif said. The man gave a slow nod and stepped outside. His movements were sluggish, as though each step took effort. Arif glanced around the store—dust coated most of the shelves, and many of the canned goods had expiration dates from years past. Just then, two more people entered—a thin man in soaked, torn clothing, and a woman holding a lit candle. Without a word, they walked to the counter and stared directly at Arif. A chill ran down his spine. He decided to pay quickly and leave. The cashier returned, scribbling the total on a slip of paper before handing it to him. There was no store name, no currency symbol—just a strange circle with a cross-like mark in the middle. Arif tried to hand him a credit card, but the man said, in a cold, mechanical voice, “We don’t take cards here.” Arif handed over some cash and headed for the door. Rain had eased into a drizzle, but as soon as he climbed into his car, the thin man pressed himself against the driver’s side door. “This road is not for you,” the man rasped. Startled, Arif turned the key in the ignition and tried to close the door, but the man held it firmly. Suddenly, the woman stepped in front of the car, as if to block his way. Heart pounding, Arif slammed the accelerator. The man clung to the door, his feet dragging on the wet pavement. Arif swerved at the last moment to avoid hitting the woman, and the jolt finally shook the man loose. He shut the door and sped off without looking back. Ten minutes later, he dared to glance in the rearview mirror. No cars followed, but far down the road, through the rain, he could see three figures standing in the middle of the street, watching him. His pulse quickened. He checked the backseat—empty. He didn’t stop until he reached the interstate. Pulling over briefly, he looked at his GPS and felt his stomach drop. The location history showed him traveling through a “No Map Area” for the past forty-five minutes—an uncharted patch of dense forest with no roads. It also indicated he had stopped for exactly eight minutes, though to Arif it had felt like nearly half an hour. When he got home, Arif recounted the story to his friend Imran. Imran immediately searched “Zahid Travel Stop” on his phone but found nothing. “Show me your gas receipt,” Imran said. Arif reached into his pocket and pulled out the slip of paper. His hands froze. The strange circle and cross were gone—it was now just a blank piece of paper. The room fell silent. Imran’s expression hardened. “Where exactly did you say this place was On the shortcut… after the old forest,” Arif replied slowly. But before he could say more, his gaze drifted toward the window. Outside, on the empty street, a thin, shadowy figure stood perfectly still in the mist—watching.
By Janalamabout a year ago in Horror
The Silent Hive
In 2128, the asteroid mining colony Fortress-7 was established on the surface of a massive, metal-rich asteroid called Ceres IX. Over two hundred miners and scientists lived underground, extracting rare elements critical for Earth’s technology boom.
By Razu Islam – Lifestyle & Futuristic Writerabout a year ago in Horror
Smoke, Steel, and Spirits: The Haunting of Sloss Furnaces
In Birmingham, Alabama, the Magic City, there stands a towering relic of Southern industry, rusted red with time and memory. Sloss Furnaces.
By Cedric Walker(Gator)about a year ago in Horror
The Bird with the Crystal Plumage Features the Best Dario Argento Twist. Top Story - August 2025.
I recently decided to watch The Bird with the Crystal Plumage again, because I realized that the last time I saw this film was when I was 19 years old. I had forgotten so much of this film, except for the one thing that stayed with me: the twist.
By Emy Quinnabout a year ago in Horror
Skin of the City
Skin of the City Cities have skin. You might not notice it at first, but if you walk long enough, if you let the streets breathe against you, you’ll feel it. It’s in the cracked paint of forgotten doorways, the sunburned billboards, the graffitied brick walls that wear stories like tattoos. The city’s skin is never still it sweats in the summer heat, shivers under winter’s frost, and peels when the seasons change.
By James Williamabout a year ago in Horror
"The Vanishing of Emily Carter: A Cold Case That Defies All Logic"
The Vanishing of Emily Carter: A Cold Case That Defies All Logic On a quiet spring morning in 1998, seventeen-year-old Emily Carter left her home in the rural town of Brooksville, Pennsylvania, to walk to school. She never arrived.
By Waqid Ali about a year ago in Horror
The Library of Unwritten Streams
Sasha had been streaming on Twitch for two years, with little to show for it besides a few loyal followers and a collection of half-finished playthroughs. So when a new user, “Archivist_00,” dropped into her chat one night and whispered, “You’ve been invited to The Library,” she assumed it was a joke. But the link they posted led to a login page that looked oddly like Twitch—except the logo was a black book instead of a purple chat bubble. Against her better judgment, she clicked.
By Musawir Shahabout a year ago in Horror
The Whisper Behind the Door. AI-Generated.
It was around 11:45 at night when I reached my cousin’s old house in Chakwal. I was travelling from Lahore, and since the bus had been delayed, I got there much later than planned. The place was on the edge of the village, a big old haveli my cousin’s family had inherited from their grandfather. I’d been there before as a kid, but never alone at night.
By Jimmy about a year ago in Horror
The Mother
The day the world ended still lingered on the passing streets. The leftovers of a city I will only remember. Those sights I covered the boy’s eyes from. Our steps barely make a whisper as we shuffle through the broken glass that used to be shop windows. I can’t help but think of the altercations that took place here. Those moments when humanity is faced with fear, I realized then, that you cannot judge a person’s character, as you too are only trying to survive. You will cut in front of a line; you will push someone aside. You will bruise and batter any obstacle in seeking that idealized safety. What draws the line between survival and monstrous, is having that line. Identify your line and never cross that line.
By Amyabout a year ago in Horror
"The Last Shift — 15 Minutes of Pure Terror (True-Style Horror Story)"
It was a stormy Friday night when Daniel locked up the small convenience store on the edge of town. The place always felt different after dark—too quiet, too empty, like the walls were listening.
By Naimat ullahabout a year ago in Horror