Latest Stories

Most recently published stories in Horror.

The Loyalty of the Lion King
Deep in the heart of the golden savannah, where the sun kissed the earth and the wind whispered through tall grass, ruled a mighty lion known as Zahir the Lion King. His mane glowed like fire, his roar shook the heavens, and his heart beat with wisdom, courage, and most of all—loyalty.
By Ahmad shahabout a year ago in Horror
That terrifying night
It was eleven o'clock at night and I was sleeping as if I had sold all my donkeys and horses. In my dreams, what islands was I traveling to when the phone's continuous ringing shook me and made me jump into the world of consciousness and senses. With difficulty controlling my sleeping nerves, I picked up the phone.
By Echoes of Lifeabout a year ago in Horror
Mirror Fast . Content Warning.
She was beautiful. Unreal. Impossible, but true. The kind of woman strangers stopped to look at. A second. Just a hitch of foot and eye before they swerved away, continued on their way, and forgot that the world contained anything less than mundane. Her skin was taut, porcelain; the shine of serum and lotion locking in place like a fresh coat of wax. Her body was sculpted by the temple of repetition: early mornings, controlled breathing, the click-clack of machine and weights against a gym’s oiled floors. She was curvy where curves were allowed: waist narrow, hips precise, arms chiseled but not bulky, legs long and unthick.
By Salem Youngblood about a year ago in Horror
A Living Legend. Top Story - August 2025.
I submitted this piece to The Molotov Cocktail magazine for their 2024 Flash Fiction Monster horror contest. It didn’t place, but it did earn a shout out on their “Close, but No Cigar,” list.
By Bradley Ramseyabout a year ago in Horror
The Jinn Ran Away
This is a short story my grandson Taimur, who is thirteen years old, told about the mother of his friend Zain Ali. Zain Ali's mother Nusrat Bibi loves and adores Taimur very much like her son. She is a very pure, good-natured, kind-hearted and refined woman. When Nusrat Bibi was told that she was pregnant, her husband and all the family were extremely happy.
By Echoes of Lifeabout a year ago in Horror
“The Girl in the Window”
M Mehran The village of Elmswood was quiet, forgotten, nestled between fog-draped woods and crooked hills. There were no streetlights. The houses were old and leaned into one another like secrets too heavy to carry. But no house was more feared than the red one on Hollow Street — the one with the window on the second floor that always had a little girl staring out. People said she never moved. People said she never aged. People said she was never alive. When Leah moved to Elmswood, she didn’t believe in ghost stories. A fresh graduate from the city, she wanted solitude — the kind found in sleepy towns and untouched nature. She bought the red house for cheap. Too cheap. She didn’t ask why. The villagers watched her unload boxes in silence. No one offered help. No one waved. One old woman muttered something about “the child,” but Leah brushed it off. The first night was uneventful. Cold. Quiet. Just the wind sighing through the gaps in the walls. But on the second night, Leah heard soft tapping. Tap. Tap. Tap. It came from the second-floor window — the one she hadn't opened. She climbed the stairs, heart slow but steady, and saw… nothing. Just her reflection in the glass and the trees swaying in the moonlight. Then she heard it again. Tap. Tap. Tap. This time, it came from behind her. She turned, and the hallway was empty. Leah laughed nervously. “Old houses make noises,” she whispered to herself. But as she turned back to the window, her reflection had changed. There was a girl standing beside her. Hair matted. Eyes wide. Dress soaked and rotting. Leah screamed, spun around — no one there. The girl was gone. The reflection was hers again. In the morning, Leah went into the village to ask questions. The baker went pale at the mention of the house. The librarian simply shook her head. Finally, she cornered the old woman who’d spoken before. “They never told you, did they?” the woman rasped. “That house is cursed. Has been since the river took her.” “Took who?” Leah asked, though her voice felt distant. “Annabelle. The girl who lived there. Drowned at seven. But she came back. Some say she never left. Her parents locked the room. Refused to speak of her. Until they vanished too.” Leah returned home, unsettled but defiant. Ghosts weren’t real. She was tired. Stressed. Seeing things. That night, she bolted the bedroom door and turned on every light. At 3:07 AM, the lights flickered and died. In the silence, Leah heard the floorboards creak. Then came the whisper. “Play with me…” Her breath caught. She clutched her phone, but the screen was black. She looked up. The girl was at the foot of the bed. Wet footprints led from the doorway. Her mouth hung open unnaturally wide. Her eyes — empty pits. “Get out!” Leah shouted, flinging the lamp. It passed through the girl and shattered against the wall. The girl tilted her head. “You’re in my room.” Suddenly, Leah was flung backward. The room grew cold. The walls bled water. The girl moved closer, reaching. Then everything went black. --- When the villagers entered the red house three days later — after noticing no lights, no movement — they found it empty. No sign of Leah. No packed bags. No struggle. Just a single wet handprint on the second-floor window. And a little girl staring out once more.
By M Mehran about a year ago in Horror
The Safety of the Light
The perimeter must remain lit. It was the only rule the village enforced. For generations, as dusk set in a handful of adults would gather by the fire, light the torches, and carry them to the edge of their homes. Children watched gleefully as the flames danced to life one by one, like stars hovering just above the earth. “You must never venture beyond the light,” the elders warned in the gravest of tones.
By Alex Booneabout a year ago in Horror
The Softest Exit
By the time the fog cleared, I was already gone. The world lurched forward— not harshly, but like a sigh released after a lifetime held—
By Salem Youngblood about a year ago in Horror
"The Cursed Mirror: The Spirit That Returned at Midnight"
Introduction At the far end of the city stood an abandoned mansion. For decades, no one dared to enter. But among the whispers of the locals, there was one object everyone feared the most — an old, black-framed mirror. They said a restless spirit was trapped inside, waiting… watching.
By Md Abul Kasemabout a year ago in Horror
👁️‍🗨️ The Doll of Fear
In a real-life psychological horror story, a woman in North Carolina, USA, finds her life turned upside down—not by financial stress, family troubles, or even a medical crisis—but by a doll. And not just any doll, but Chucky, the infamous horror movie icon known for his creepy smile and murderous tendencies. What started as a cruel office prank ended in mental trauma, unemployment, and a lawsuit that has stunned the internet.
By saqib rehmanabout a year ago in Horror
Whispers in the Windowlight
We are told the window is a comfort — that light through glass is protection. A boundary. A blessing. We are told that reflections are innocent. But. No one asks what happens when the light bends wrong. When glass forgets it is glass and becomes something else. Something hungry.
By Muhammad Rahim about a year ago in Horror
The Gas Mask
Erin was not enjoying the party. She didn’t want to be with a bunch of assholes that she didn’t give remotely a shit about. Unfortunately, she made a promise to Adam, her brother.
By Emy Quinnabout a year ago in Horror