book reviews

Book reviews for horror fans; weather a sleepless night with literary accounts of hauntings, possessions, zombies, vampires and beyond.

The Cursed Room
Chapter 1: Arrival was close to 11pm. The chaotic energy of the city faded, leaving behind the streets of the sky with a faint yellow light. Exhausted from the trip, Rahat entered the "Silver Moon Inn" lobby and dragged his suitcase back.
By Vijoy2 years ago in Horror
Whispers in the Fog
**Whispers in the Fog** The fog crept in thick that evening, shrouding the town in a dense, spectral veil. Jenna hated fog. It made her think about the night her brother disappeared—when he went into the mist and never came back. That had been ten years ago.
By Md Nurul Imam Babu2 years ago in Horror
Real-Life Jinn Encounters
The first incident was sent to us by Nafiz Hasan Khokon. His home is in the village of Khalisakundi, Daulatpur Thana, Kushtia District. The next incident was sent to us by someone whose several stories we have already broadcast. Her name is Sumaiya Jahan Sumi, and her home is in Krishnakathi village, Bakerganj Thana, Barisal District. So, the first incident is from Khokon, and he took his HSC (Higher Secondary Certificate) exam in 2024. Let's get to the main story. The incident happened to one of his aunts. His maternal grandfathers are three brothers, and all three are currently alive. The incident happened to the youngest daughter of his middle maternal grandfather, meaning one of his aunts. The time frame of the incident is the late 1990s, sometime after 1998. In 1998, vast areas of the country were affected by a devastating flood. Their area was not outside of the areas that were flooded. The surrounding areas, specifically the market in their area, which is the Khalisakundi market, had an iron bridge. People from the surrounding areas used that iron bridge to travel. That bridge was also affected by the flood and was submerged. With the bridge being submerged, you can imagine how much water there was. Khokon wasn't even born yet at that time. His birth year is later. The incident happened sometime between 1998 and 2000. He heard the story from his mother. His aunt's name is Tanjila. At the time of the incident, Tanjila Aunt was 17 years old. Tanjila Aunt has an older sister, but we are not mentioning her name for obvious reasons.
By Lily2 years ago in Horror
The Silent Echo of Uncle Rambanda
Andonawa A true story As soon as I got home from work, I heard that Uncle Rambanda had fallen from a tree while he was mowing the lawn in the evening. Somehow, no one had seen him for hours. Since Uncle was late, my aunt had gone to look for him. Then she saw Uncle Rambanda lying at the base of the Kitul tree. When she looked closer, her head had split in two. He had hit his head on the rock at the base of the tree.
By Rohitha Lanka2 years ago in Horror
The Call of the Phantom
1 Rajon by no means believed in ghosts. Superstitions, folklore, and eerie village testimonies had been not anything greater than exaggerated testimonies to him. Having studied in the town for years, he took into consideration himself a logical man. But his village had one chilling belief—by no means, to the Nishis call. They stated the Nishi became a spirit that mimicked the voices of cherished ones to trap sufferers into the darkness. Those who replied by no means returned.
By Vijoy2 years ago in Horror
The True Story of Courage the Coward
Most of the cartoons fall into three different categories of cartoons that revolve around more than one character such as Ed Addy, cartoons that revolve around an idea such as SpongeBob, a talking sponge who works as a chef, or classic cartoons that rely on animation and comedy such as Lollipop Tunes. But to classify the cartoon by its type is to make expectations with the cartoon, but Courage is continuous and strange to a strange degree.
By art x32 years ago in Horror
Invisible. Content Warning.
Invisible Navidu..... Nirmal woke up to his voice and saw Navidu's painful face..... Why, Navidu.... Why are you crying..... What happened?
By Rohitha Lanka2 years ago in Horror
The Bullet that Esther S
I shot papa square in the heart but he didn’t die. That damn bible he carried with him saved his life. I was considerable lucky that papa had his axe at hand, and that he kept it sharp. I picked it up. It was a heavy thing, so I swung with all my might and put it right through his head. Seein’ his brains made me throw up. I moved away so it wouldn’t get on papa. That would be disrespectful.
By solayman shahriar himel2 years ago in Horror
The Cursed River
1. The Call of the River It turned into a deep, silent night. In one nook of the village flowed a darkish, mysterious river known as Kalendi. The villagers feared it, believing it turned into cursed. By day, it seemed like another river—calm, serene, and nearly inviting. But at night, it transformed. Strange whispers drifted from the water, muffled cries echoed via the air, and sometimes, humans claimed they heard a person calling their name.
By Vijoy2 years ago in Horror
The Cursed Graveyard
1. The Haunting Atmosphere At the very fringe of the village, surrounded with the aid of dense timber and an unending silence, stood the Kalapahad Cemetery. It was there for centuries, however villagers feared it after sunset. Whispers of eerie laughter, floating lights, and shadowy figures haunted their dreams.
By Vijoy2 years ago in Horror
The Last Passenger
Rafiq boarded the last bus of the night, relieved to find it nearly empty. The rain poured outside, blurring the city lights. He slid into a window seat near the back, shaking off the cold. The driver, an old man with hollow eyes, gave him a brief nod before shutting the doors. The bus rumbled forward, its engine growling against the storm. Rafiq glanced around. A few passengers sat scattered throughout—an elderly woman clutching a cloth bag, a man in a suit staring out the window, and a young girl sitting alone near the front. Something felt… off. The bus was oddly silent. No one spoke. No one moved. Even the girl, who looked no older than ten, sat unnaturally still, her face hidden by her long, dark hair. As the bus sped through the empty streets, Rafiq noticed something strange—the route was unfamiliar. He had taken this bus before, but the turns felt wrong. The city buildings faded, replaced by endless fog. He leaned forward. "Excuse me, driver, where are we going?" The old man didn’t respond. Rafiq’s stomach twisted. He turned to the nearest passenger—the man in the suit. "Do you know where this bus is headed?" The man slowly turned his head. His face was pale, his eyes empty sockets. Rafiq recoiled in horror. The old woman beside him did the same—her skin paper-thin, her mouth stretching into an unnatural grin. His breath caught in his throat. He turned to the young girl, the only one who hadn’t moved. "Help me," he whispered. The girl lifted her head. Her hollow, black eyes met his. "You shouldn’t be here." The lights flickered. The bus shook violently. The fog outside thickened, swallowing everything. "Stop the bus!" Rafiq shouted, scrambling to his feet. The driver finally turned to him. His face was decayed, flesh hanging from his bones. His voice was barely a whisper. "You were never supposed to get on." The bus screeched to a halt. The doors flung open, revealing nothing but darkness outside. A force yanked Rafiq forward, pulling him into the abyss. The next morning, the city’s first bus of the day followed its usual route. At one stop, the doors opened, but no one was there. Yet, on the last seat at the back, a single wet handprint remained.
By SHAKIB2 years ago in Horror
The Shadow Behind the Door
Naila had never believed in ghosts. When she rented the old countryside cottage for a weekend getaway, she laughed at the landlord’s warning. “Don’t open the backroom door after midnight,” the old man had said. “No matter what you hear.” She dismissed it as superstition. The house was ancient, with creaky wooden floors and candle-lit sconces, but that only added to its charm. After unpacking, she made herself a cup of tea and curled up with a book. The night air was crisp, and the silence outside was peaceful. At exactly midnight, a soft knock echoed from the backroom. Naila froze. It wasn’t possible. She was alone. The knock came again—slow, deliberate. Then, a whisper seeped through the wood. “Let me out.” Her pulse quickened. Maybe it was just the wind. Maybe an animal had gotten trapped inside. Gathering her courage, she approached the door. The air around it was unnaturally cold. “Nonsense,” she muttered, reaching for the handle. Then, she remembered the landlord’s warning. Don’t open the door. The knocking grew urgent, more desperate. Then, something scratched at the wood from the inside. Naila backed away, her breath shallow. She forced herself to return to the couch, trying to ignore the persistent sound. But as the minutes passed, a new horror crept in—the knocks were no longer coming from the backroom. They were moving. Now, they came from the walls. From the ceiling. From the floor beneath her feet. Then, a whisper slithered into her ear, close as a lover’s breath. “You should have opened the door.” Naila screamed and ran for the front door, but it wouldn’t budge. The locks twisted on their own, trapping her inside. The candlelight flickered wildly, casting shadows that danced and twisted—until one of them stepped forward. A tall, gaunt figure with hollow eyes stood in the corner, watching her. With a voice like the wind through dead leaves, it spoke. “Now, I come to you.” The lights went out. The next morning, the landlord arrived to check on the cottage. The front door was locked, just as he had left it. But when he stepped inside, the house was empty. No sign of Naila—except for the deep scratches on the backroom door, as if something had tried to claw its way out. And the whisper that greeted him: “Let me out.”
By SHAKIB2 years ago in Horror