Latest Stories

Most recently published stories in Horror.

The Forgotten Room: Her Name Was Margaret (part 2 )
I thought the candles and prayer had settled the room. For a while, things were calm. I stayed in the house for several more days, sorting through boxes, cleaning, preparing it for sale. The mirror stayed quiet, the rocking chair unmoved. I even convinced myself I’d imagined it all.
By Hammad khanabout a year ago in Horror
The Forgotten Room (part 1)
When my parents passed away within months of each other, I was left with their century-old house on Pine Hill Road. I hadn't visited much in the past decade, too busy with life, career, and obligations in the city. But now I stood before the weathered blue door of my childhood home, keys in hand and grief sitting heavy on my shoulders.
By Hammad khanabout a year ago in Horror
The Echoes Beneath the Floorboards
When Mira bought the old Victorian home on the edge of Fairweather Street, she wasn’t looking for a fresh start. She wanted silence. The kind of silence that only old wood and forgotten rooms could offer. After a messy breakup and the death of her mother, Mira needed a place that didn't ask questions.
By Hammad khanabout a year ago in Horror
LINGER . AI-Generated.
The sun dipped behind palm shadows. Cayenne Cove slipped into silence. The tourists were gone. He arrived with the dusk, a stranger gliding through unlocked doors and cracked windows. Not to steal—just to linger.
By Travis Johnsonabout a year ago in Horror
The Whispering Grave of Spin Ghar
In the shadow of the mighty Spin Ghar mountains, nestled deep in a forgotten corner of eastern Afghanistan, lies the abandoned village of Sarkai Banda. The villagers had fled decades ago, their homes left to the mercy of wind and wild, their mosques crumbled by time, and their memories buried under dust. But there was one thing no one ever dared to forget — the Grave That Whispered.
By M Fawadabout a year ago in Horror
The Dark Within
The Dark Within It started with a whisper. Very soft. Almost like a breath. But Mira heard it—cold and strange, like smoke slipping into her ears.
By Furqan Elahiabout a year ago in Horror
Creepshow 2 Did Not Deserve so Much Hate from Critics
I couldn’t understand how the sequel to the iconic Creepshow film received so much criticism. This anthology film had great stories that were well written, and despite the silliness of the insane ideas, it was terrifying!
By Emy Quinnabout a year ago in Horror
The Cursed Oak of Bayou Drive: Florida's Forgotten Shadows
The Martin House: A Haunting Legacy in Bay County, Florida Nestled along Bayou Drive in Panama City, Florida, the Martin House stands as a chilling monument to tragedy, mystery, and enduring folklore. Built in the early 1900s, this once-elegant home now whispers tales of sorrow and spectral unrest that have captivated locals for generations.
By Cedric Walker(Gator)about a year ago in Horror
The Laughing Courtyard: A Haunted Love Story That Ended in Blood
Ali and Zainab thought they had finally escaped the chaos of the city. When they found an old house on the edge of a quiet village, it felt like a blessing. The courtyard was wide and green, overflowing with roses and jasmine. A massive banyan tree stood in the center, its branches spread like open arms offering shelter. The first few days were magical. Ali built a wooden swing in the courtyard for Zainab, and she spent hours on it, laughing and kicking her feet into the warm air. They drank tea under the stars, whispered about their dreams, and promised each other a lifetime of love. It was the kind of peaceful, romantic life they had always imagined. One afternoon, while Zainab was planting new jasmine bushes near the courtyard wall, she noticed a small door hidden behind thick, tangled ivy. Curiosity glimmered in her eyes. She called Ali over, her voice filled with excitement. Ali pulled away the ivy and peered inside. “Probably just an old storage cellar,” he joked. “Or maybe a ghost’s secret room!” They both laughed, but that night, Zainab had a terrifying dream. A burned woman appeared to her, her skin charred and her eyes glowing with rage. In a deep, echoing voice, she hissed: “This courtyard is mine. Leave before I take everything from you.” Zainab woke up screaming, her body shaking. Ali tried to calm her, telling her it was just a nightmare, but the fear never left her eyes. In the following days, the courtyard began to change. The once-vibrant roses drooped and turned black. The jasmine bushes shriveled as if they had been cursed. At night, Zainab heard footsteps near the swing and saw a shadow moving along the courtyard wall. Every morning, she looked more pale and hollow, her spirit seemingly drained. Ali grew increasingly worried. He suggested they move out, but Zainab refused at first. She felt strangely tied to the courtyard, as if an unseen force held her there. One evening, Ali finally decided they had to leave no matter what. He planned to pack their belongings and escape at dawn. But that night, Zainab disappeared from their bed. Ali rushed into the courtyard, where he saw the hidden door wide open. Heart pounding, he stepped down into a narrow staircase leading to a dark, damp cellar. The smell of mold and old earth filled his lungs. In the cellar’s dim light, he found Zainab kneeling before a cracked stone idol, her hair covering her face. She was holding an old, rusty dagger. “Zainab! Please, we can leave this place together,” Ali pleaded, tears in his eyes. Slowly, Zainab lifted her head. Her face was pale, her eyes black and lifeless. A twisted smile spread across her lips. In a voice that was not entirely hers, she whispered, “This courtyard is mine now… and you are my first offering.” Before Ali could react, she lunged at him. The cellar echoed with his cries and the sound of the blade slicing through flesh. Blood splattered on the damp walls as Ali struggled, but Zainab’s strength was monstrous, no longer human. Above them, the swing began to move on its own, creaking slowly under the moonlight. The once joyful sound now felt like a sinister lullaby drifting into the night. When it was over, Ali lay lifeless on the cold stone floor, his eyes wide in terror. Zainab staggered up into the courtyard, the dagger slipping from her bloody hands. She climbed onto the swing and began rocking back and forth, her laughter sharp and echoing through the silent night. The moonlight illuminated her blood-soaked dress and the dead, blackened roses around her. By morning, the courtyard was eerily silent. No birds sang. No flowers bloomed. Only the swing continued to creak softly, as if remembering the love that once lived there. The villagers say that on certain nights, you can still hear a woman laughing in that courtyard. They claim the swing moves on its own, and if you get too close, you’ll see her eyes staring at you from the darkness, promising you’ll be next. Ali and Zainab came to find a dream home filled with love and peace. Instead, they uncovered a haunting secret that turned their love story into a nightmare — a nightmare that lives on in the haunted courtyard forever.
By Ubaid Ur Rehmanabout a year ago in Horror
I Hit Play. Something Hit Back.
I’ve been working on something. A new podcast. Something I recorded a while back and finally decided to drop. The first episode airs this Friday.
By Ena Marrowabout a year ago in Horror
The Shape in My Rearview Mirror
By David Miller I didn’t sleep last night. Not after what I saw under the streetlight. Not after the note. My name’s David Miller, and until last Tuesday, the word "stalker" was something I only heard on true-crime podcasts.
By Ahmed Abdeenabout a year ago in Horror
she got away
She Got Away "Trust No Road Out" --- It began in a message. Four words: "Don't trust the driver." Mira's heart pounded as she read the message on the screen of her battered phone. The number was unlisted. The ride had been rough, and the van smelled of gasoline fumes and stale cigarettes. She let her eyes slip upward, above the driver in the scratched rearview mirror.
By Aamir Muhammad about a year ago in Horror