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 Secret Below
In the fall of 2018, in a sleepy town just outside Asheville, North Carolina, a young couple—Adam and Rachel Morgan—moved into a charming but timeworn two-story house built in the early 1900s. They were drawn in by its creaky character, wraparound porch, and rustic wooden floors. The house had been vacant for two years, owned previously by a reclusive elderly man who died with no next of kin.
By Farhan Rafidabout a year ago in Horror
Room 213
1. The Hotel It wasn’t the kind of place you’d notice. The Crestwood Inn was just off the highway—old, three stories, faded beige paint clinging to the wood panels. It looked like it hadn’t seen a renovation in two decades. But it was cheap, and that’s what Matt needed.
By Shahidul islamabout a year ago in Horror
The Whispers Beneath the Floor
There’s a house on the edge of Millersfield that no one talks about—not out loud, anyway. People cross the street when walking past it. Children are told to never go near. Teenagers dare each other to touch its front steps, but no one stays long. For years, the house has sat silent, its windows black, its yard choked by weeds, and its wooden boards rotting away like a forgotten memory. But if the house was truly forgotten, why did people still hear whispers coming from beneath the floor?
By Shahidul islamabout a year ago in Horror
The Man in the Mirror
The first time I saw him, he didn’t come through the front door. He appeared in the hallway mirror — not walking past, but standing still, staring. My reflection was nowhere in sight. Just his. Crisp navy suit, ash-gray eyes, and a smile that could either disarm you or unnerve you, depending on the angle. I blinked, and he was gone.
By Salar Khanabout a year ago in Horror
The Park Picture
My mom first noticed it in a picture she took when I was about 7 years old. We were at the park around the corner from my childhood home. I was playing on the monkey bars when my mom snapped the picture on an old Kodak disposable. Any child of the 90s will remember those old yellow bricks, the snap of the flash, and the clicking of the cog as you turn the film to the next photo. You wouldn’t know what was in a picture until it was developed days later at your local drugstore, a wild thought for the current generation living in instant gratification. I don’t even remember this day, this photo, or anything else. I just know it ruined my life.
By Martin David Harpabout a year ago in Horror
The Voice in Apartment 413
After her divorce, Alina needed to disappear. She didn’t want sympathy, advice, or the pitying glances from coworkers. So she quit her job, sold the house, and moved to a different state. She didn’t tell anyone—just packed up and drove until the city skyline turned to trees and silence.
By Nauman Khanabout a year ago in Horror
