fiction
Horror fiction that delivers on its promise to scare, startle, frighten and unsettle. These stories are fake, but the shivers down your spine won't be.
"The Dyatlov Whisper: When the Mountain Breathes Back"
Prologue: The Last Diary Entry February 1, 1959, Ural Mountains *"-30°C. Wind howls like wolves. Kolev swears the snow moved today. Sloped uphill. Igor says it’s stress. But tonight... we heard it. Breathing under the tent.
By Ahmed Abdeenabout a year ago in Horror
New World
The sun had only just fallen below the jagged rim of the shattered skyline, sending long shadows spreading across the remains of what had been Manhattan. The buildings were high and still, vacant and battered by the passage of years. It was 2145, and the world was different.
By Shaheen Khanabout a year ago in Horror
Do You Believe in Ghosts?
We were sitting in the backyard one evening, tossing jokes like frisbees into the dusk. One of my friends, smirking with a cup of chai in his hand, leaned in and said, “Do you believe in ghosts?” We all laughed, shaking our heads, brushing the idea away like smoke. I chuckled louder than the rest, thumping my chest, “If a ghost ever dares show up, I’ll invite it in for tea.” The night roared with laughter. None of us knew that someone was listening.
By Muhammad Rahim about a year ago in Horror
Ghost Palace Hotel Bali: Haunted History of Bedugul’s Abandoned Resort
A Monument to Corruption: The Tragic History of the Hotel Perched above the foggy highlands of Bedugul, the Ghost Palace Hotel (officially PI Bedugul Taman Rekreasi Hotel & Resort) is a decaying monument to greed, political corruption, and ghostly legend. It began in the early 1990s as a side project of Indonesia's then-authoritarian leader President Suharto's youngest son, Tommy Suharto. Thought out as a high-end retreat overlooking Lake Buyan, the hotel was showy Balinese in design: stairways lined by snakes, marble floors, and balconies with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking sensational views of volcanic peaks and rice paddy fields.
By Kyrol Mojikalabout a year ago in Horror
The Last Breath of Gabriel Miles
Gabriel Miles had always been a man of quiet significance, the kind who lived life on the periphery but still managed to leave a mark. He wasn’t famous, nor had he ever desired fame. But when he passed away in his modest home at 82, the world seemed to pause for just a moment, as if it were giving him the space to slip away peacefully. Gabriel's life had been a mosaic of little moments: small victories, quiet struggles, and a multitude of unspoken emotions. He had been born in a small town in the midwest, where life moved at a pace that allowed for both growth and reflection. His parents were hardworking, no-nonsense folks who never wasted words but showed love through action. Gabriel took after them in that way—reserved, but deeply connected to the people around him. He had never married, though there were those who had once thought him a fine prospect. He had loved, of course. A woman named Clara, with whom he had spent a brief but passionate summer during his early twenties. They had shared everything from dreams of a future together to quiet walks under the stars. But life, as it often does, had different plans. Clara left for a distant city, chasing ambition, while Gabriel remained in their hometown, tethered to a life that felt familiar and comforting. He threw himself into his work as a carpenter, crafting furniture and homes for others, building with the hands that once held Clara's. Gabriel never spoke of her again after she left, though his heart carried the weight of that lost love for years. In his solitude, he found solace in the rhythmic motion of sanding wood, the satisfaction of a job well done. As the years passed, Gabriel became known in the town not for his words, but for his craftsmanship. He was the quiet man who built homes for families, who repaired fences when they had fallen, who made wooden toys for children. People trusted him, and in return, he gave them his time, his skill, and the wisdom that only a man of his age could provide. Gabriel had never expected a grand farewell. His death was as unremarkable as his life had been. No grand ceremony, no long eulogies, just a handful of people in his modest home—those who had loved him or been touched by his work. His body lay in the room where he had spent countless nights reading, tinkering with wood, or simply staring out of the window at the world outside. He died in his sleep, his breath slowing until it came to an end. As Gabriel’s family and a few old friends gathered to say their final goodbyes, they were reminded of the person he had been: steady, dependable, and somehow always just there, a constant in a world that often felt too fast. His nieces and nephews, now grown, could barely remember a time when Gabriel had been young, but they remembered his steady hand, his quiet laughter, and the way he’d always found time to listen. To them, he had always been the rock of the family, the one who never needed much but always gave more than he had. In the small town, word of Gabriel’s passing spread slowly, like the quiet hum of a passing train. The town was small, but the ripples of his life stretched farther than anyone could imagine. The family who lived in the house Gabriel had built nearly thirty years ago came to the funeral, sharing how the walls he had crafted had withstood storms and time. They spoke of the furniture he had made for their children, now grown, and how his work had given their lives a kind of permanence. It was a strange thing, to know that someone so quiet had shaped not just the town, but the lives of those within it. At the end of the service, as Gabriel’s body was carried away, his nieces and nephews stood quietly, looking at the old man’s empty chair by the window. His tools had already been packed away, his workshop locked up, but in the fading light, the memory of his hands—weathered, steady, always working—lingered. The world did not stop for Gabriel Miles. It moved on, as it always does, but for those who had known him, there would always be the quiet echo of his life, felt in the furniture he had crafted, the homes he had built, and the lives he had quietly touched. In his death, as in his life, he remained steady—just a man who had given more than he had ever taken. And in the silence that followed, the question lingered: How many of us leave behind such a legacy without ever realizing it?
By Israr khanabout a year ago in Horror
Labubu: The Mischievous Monster Doll Taking Over the Toy World
In a world filled with cute plushies and aesthetic collectibles, one cheeky little monster is stealing hearts — and shelves — across the globe. Meet Labubu, the strange yet adorable creature that has exploded in popularity among art toy collectors, Gen Z trendsetters, and even celebrity influencers. But what is Labubu, and why is everyone obsessed with it? A Curious Little Monster with Big Dreams Labubu is the brainchild of Kasing Lung, a legendary illustrator and toy designer from Hong Kong. Originally introduced through his fantasy storybook *The Monsters*, Labubu was one of several quirky creatures living in a whimsical, mysterious forest. But unlike his friends, Labubu stood out — a mischievous troublemaker with spiky teeth, giant ears, and an infectious grin that screams personality. Soon, POP MART, the Chinese art toy powerhouse, turned Labubu into a collectible vinyl figure — and the rest is history. From Niche Toy to Cultural Icon At first, Labubu was a hit with hardcore toy collectors and designer toy fans. But the real magic happened when social media got involved. Suddenly, unboxing videos on TikTok and Instagram Reels started going viral. People across the globe were sharing their latest Labubu finds — from pirate versions to angelic fairies, even glow-in-the-dark editions. Some videos reached millions of views. Fan art, cosplay, and DIY custom Labubus became a thing. Limited-edition releases sold out in minutes, with prices on resale platforms soaring into the hundreds of dollars. Why Labubu Works: The Psychology of Cute & Creepy Labubu is weird — and that’s exactly the point. Unlike traditional cute toys, Labubu walks the line between adorable and creepy. Its sharp teeth, wide grin, and odd expressions give it a unique personality that breaks the “sweet and innocent” mold of many kawaii dolls. Psychologists call this the “ugly-cute” effect — when something isn’t classically cute but still irresistible. That emotional contrast is what makes Labubu so unforgettable. Not Just a Toy — A Lifestyle For many fans, Labubu isn’t just a figure on a shelf. It’s a symbol of individuality, a badge of quirkiness, and even a creative muse. Some people decorate their rooms with Labubu-themed decor. Others use it as a character in animation videos, or dress their dolls in custom outfits. In a world dominated by mass-produced trends, Labubu feels personal, raw, and real. Will Labubu Be the Next Funko Pop or Beanie Baby? That’s the million-dollar question. With POP MART expanding globally — including stores in New York, Dubai, and Tokyo — and more artists collaborating with the brand, Labubu’s fame shows no sign of slowing down. Whether it's part of a nostalgia wave, a Gen Z fashion trend, or just pure toy magic, Labubu is officially a collector’s cult favorite. If you haven’t met Labubu yet… don’t be surprised when it pops up on your "For You" page. Final Thoughts: A Monster With a Heart Labubu isn’t just a toy. It’s a movement. A tiny monster with big emotions, capturing the weird, wild, and wonderful world we live in. So the next time you see those wide eyes and mischievous grin — smile back. You’re looking at the future of collectibles.
By Tech Horizonsabout a year ago in Horror
Nightmare Christmas Inn
Outside of her best friend’s house, Paige honked the horn for the third time, sighing in frustration when she saw Tabby through the window, yapping away on her cell phone. This was supposed to be their time away from all the bullshit Serenity was full of this time of year. The Christmas parades, the decorations, and the infernal Christmas music drove her insane.
By Susan Dickson (Author Raven Burke)about a year ago in Horror
THE GIRL WHO HATED HOSPITALS (Episode 4)
THE GIRL WHO HATED HOSPITALS (Episode 4) The mysterious woman stepped out from the shimmering wateme, she didn’t feel like a stranger to herself. The words settled like stones in her stomach. Suddenly, her sicknesses, her unexplained fear of hospitals, her vivid dreams—all of it began to make sense. She had been caught in a spiritual struggle she never asked for. “Can I break it?” Adaeze whispered. “You can,” Mama Nkechi said. “But not without a price. You must accept who you are. Not just a girl from town. Not just a student. But a child of destiny—between two worlds.” As night fell, Adaeze walked back to her hostel with a thousand thoughts spinning in her mind. The wind whispered through the trees like voices calling her name. But something had changed. She was no longer afraid to find the truth. She was ready. One afternoon, while fetching water, she overheard a group of women talking. “She’s the girl who hated hospitals, right?” one whispered. “Now she’s talking to spirits,” another added. Adaeze smiled quietly. If only they knew—this path she chose wasn’t madness. It was healing. The village buzzed with whispers about Adaeze's newfound abilities. Some praised her as a healer; others eyed her with suspicion. Adaeze remained focused, determined to use her gifts for good. One evening, a frantic knock echoed at her door. It was Chinedu, a young man from the neighboring village. "Please," he pleaded, "my sister, Amara, is gravely ill. The doctors can't help her. We heard of your powers." Adaeze hesitated. This was her first request from outside her village. But the desperation in Chinedu's eyes moved her. "I'll come," she said, grabbing her conch shell and a pouch of herbs. The journey to Chinedu's village was long and arduous. As they walked, he explained Amara's condition: high fevers, unresponsiveness, and strange markings on her skin. Upon arrival, Adaeze was led to a modest hut. Inside, Amara lay motionless, her breathing shallow. Adaeze sat beside her, placing the conch shell to her ear. Soft whispers filled her mind. "She's caught between worlds," the marine spirits conveyed. "A ritual was disrupted, leaving her spirit vulnerable." Adaeze prepared a cleansing ritual by a nearby stream. She mixed herbs, chanted incantations, and sprinkled the concoction over Amara. As the ritual progressed, Amara's body convulsed, then gradually relaxed. Suddenly, Amara's eyes fluttered open. Tears streamed down Chinedu's face as he embraced his sister. "Thank you," he whispered to Adaeze. Despite all this Healings Adaeze performed, something tragedic happened. Guess what?? To be continued in Episode 5 We are not WEALTHY but we are HEALTHY Chibuzo Okoli Student Doctor 🩺
By Haya princessabout a year ago in Horror
