Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Horror.
She Was Drying Her Hair in the Bathroom — But Had No Reflection
She Was Drying Her Hair in the Bathroom — But Had No Reflection It was supposed to be just three nights. I was in northern Pakistan, researching old architecture for a historical travel piece. The haveli, they said, was “safe,” just abandoned, dusty — but structurally sound.
By Noman Afridiabout a year ago in Horror
Title: Shadows Beneath Mars
In 2109, the Mars colony Ares Prime had expanded into a thriving outpost of over 2,000 scientists, engineers, and settlers. For years, the mission was focused on terraforming and resource extraction. But everything changed when a seismic survey under the base of Olympus Mons—the largest volcano in the solar system—revealed a vast hollow chamber beneath the ancient Martian surface.
By Razu Islam – Lifestyle & Futuristic Writerabout a year ago in Horror
Beneath the Clock That Never Ticks
The clock never ticked. Not once. Not even when the whole town held its breath waiting for it to move. The old iron timepiece above the railway station in Wetherby had been frozen at 3:17 for as long as anyone could remember. Rust clung to its hands, and vines crept along the brick wall behind it, as if nature had tried to swallow the secret whole. Some called it a broken relic. Others whispered that it was a warning.
By L.M. Everhartabout a year ago in Horror
The Last Gryphon
Long ago, when mountains still whispered the names of gods and stars wrote poems on the wind, the skies were ruled not by birds or clouds—but by gryphons. Magnificent creatures, part lion and part eagle, they soared between realms, guardians of balance, symbols of strength and wisdom. But time is a greedy river, and it carries even the mightiest away. In the hidden land of Aerwyn, where the peaks sliced the sky and the forests glowed with ancient magic, there lived the last gryphon. His name was Kaelthar. With wings broad enough to cast shadows over lakes and eyes that shimmered with starlight, Kaelthar was the final echo of a forgotten age. He lived alone atop the Stormspire, a jagged mountain wreathed in mist and memory. Below him, the world had changed. Humans now ruled the valleys. They had forgotten the old stories—of gryphons, of guardians, of promises made to the wind. Steel replaced stone, and engines replaced wings. Kaelthar watched it all in silence. He remembered his kin. He remembered the last flight, when the gryphons rose as one to defend Aerwyn from a darkness that bled across the sky like spilled ink. They won—but at a cost. One by one, they vanished into legend, leaving Kaelthar behind as the keeper of their legacy. Years passed like falling feathers. One morning, as Kaelthar circled the mountains, he saw something unusual—a girl, no more than sixteen, climbing the treacherous slopes toward the Stormspire. Her clothes were torn, her hands bloodied, but her eyes held the kind of fire Kaelthar had not seen in a hundred winters. She was Liora, an orphan of war, searching for something more than survival. Her village had been burned by men who cared more for gold than for life. The world below had turned cruel. The stories her grandmother once told—of gryphons and sky kings—were her only light. And so she climbed, seeking truth. When she reached the summit, she did not scream at the sight of Kaelthar. She bowed. “If you are the last,” she said, “then let me remember.” Kaelthar tilted his great head. He had heard the languages of elves, of giants, of dragons long gone—but never had he heard a human speak with such reverence. For weeks, Liora stayed in a cave near the summit. She listened to Kaelthar’s wind-speak, a language of wings and silence. She learned of the sky’s memory, of the bond between gryphon and guardian. Slowly, Kaelthar saw in her something ancient—something meant to endure. One night, the mountain trembled. A black ship had landed in the valley below, carrying men with machines and greed in their hearts. They sought to dig through the Stormspire, to steal the crystal heart of the mountain for power. Liora stood at the edge of the cliff. “They will destroy everything.” Kaelthar’s wings opened, casting moonlight shadows. “Then let them remember why the skies once trembled.” And for the first time in centuries, the last gryphon flew not in solitude, but in defense. He soared into battle, with Liora upon his back. Fire rose from the machines, but Kaelthar was swifter than flame. Talons tore through iron, wings scattered armies. The earth shook not from war—but from wonder. The men fled. The mountain was saved. But Kaelthar, wounded by a steel bolt, grew weak. As dawn painted the sky in soft gold, he lay upon the summit. Liora wept beside him. “You are not the last,” Kaelthar whispered, pressing a feather glowing with blue light into her hand. “You carry the sky now.” With a final breath, Kaelthar became wind—his spirit soaring to where gryphons rest beyond the stars. Liora descended the mountain, not as a child of war—but as a Guardian of the Skies. And so, though the last gryphon flew no more, his legacy lived—in stories whispered by the wind, in feathers carried by dreamers, and in a girl with fire in her soul and the sky in her heart. --- In every age, there is one who remembers. And in that memory, the gryphons fly again.
By Sofia Richie about a year ago in Horror
Minnie Mouse to get her own horror movie
Minnie Mouse will have her own horror movie, to be titled Minnie's Midnight Massacre. The famous Disney character joins the trend of the horror genre that turns lovable children's characters into sinister entities. Minnie Mouse will be part of a sub-genre that has become successful in just three years. Bambi, Snow White and Winnie the Pooh, among others, have already been part of this subgenre to everyone's surprise.
By Ninfa Galeanoabout a year ago in Horror
The Clown That Comes Back
Hey. You wanna hear something really scary? I’m not talking about jump scares or monsters in movies. I’m talking about something that hides in your town. Something that looks like a clown but isn’t really a clown. Something that’s older than your grandparents, older than the town itself. It’s called It. And this… this is the story of how a group of kids found It, fought It—and what happened when It came back.
By Silas Blackwoodabout a year ago in Horror
