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.

⛔ Three-day wedding procession, returned alone ⛔
⛔ Three-day wedding procession, returned alone ⛔ An upazila in the middle of Bangladesh, its name is Trishal. Just by pronouncing the name, it seems like the rhythm of poetry rings out. It is not very far from Mymensingh city, but once you set foot there, it seems like time has stopped. A mysterious beauty can be found in the combination of rivers, beels, dirt roads and lonely trees.
By Ratul Shrikhabout a year ago in Horror
The Man in the Reflection
Story: It started with the mirror in my bathroom. After every shower, the steam would fog it up—normal. What wasn’t normal was the shape I saw standing behind me in the fog. A tall man. No face. Just the outline.
By Shohel Ranaabout a year ago in Horror
My Roommate Sleeps with Her Eyes Open
Story: When I moved into the dorm, I was told I’d be sharing the room with a girl named Haley. She wasn’t there when I arrived—just a perfectly made bed, a stack of books, and a single photo taped to the mirror. It was a black-and-white picture of a woman standing in a lake. No face. Just a silhouette.
By Shohel Ranaabout a year ago in Horror
I Saw My Father Kill My Mother
When I was ten years old, I saw my mother lying on the floor in my parents’ bedroom. I didn’t understand why she wasn’t moving, or why my father was standing over her, holding a hammer. He spotted me, dropped the hammer, and scooped me up into his arms.
By Emy Quinnabout a year ago in Horror
Don’t Answer the Intercom
Story: I moved into my new apartment building three weeks ago. The rent was low, the neighborhood was quiet, and the place had “character,” as the landlord said.
By Shohel Ranaabout a year ago in Horror
The Last Night in Dead Village. AI-Generated.
The locals called it "Dead Village"—a rotting cluster of abandoned houses swallowed by jungle. No one dared enter after sundown. But tonight, my reckless friends and I crossed the broken welcome sign, drawn by rumors of the "Weeping Woman" who haunted the old well.
By ayaraabout a year ago in Horror
The Babysitter's Last Shift
Story: I’d been babysitting for almost four years, and nothing weird ever happened. Until the Walker family hired me. Their house was huge—like mansion-huge. White marble floors, glass walls, and creepy silence in every room.
By Shohel Ranaabout a year ago in Horror
The Stranger in Apartment 4B
Story: When I first moved into this apartment building, people warned me about the fourth floor. Old tenants whispered about "weird noises" from apartment 4B. But I didn’t care. It was cheap, and the landlord didn’t ask questions.
By Shohel Ranaabout a year ago in Horror
The Last Text
The rain tapped against the window like impatient fingers, the kind that drum on a table when someone is waiting for a reply. Ella checked her phone again—still nothing from Mark. He’d promised to call after his business trip, but three days had passed with only silence.
By The Lost Books - "Libri Perditi"about a year ago in Horror
The Whispers Beneath Room 13
I was never the type to believe in ghost stories. I grew up in a world where logic ruled and science explained everything. But after what happened during my final year in college, I no longer sleep with the lights off—or sleep much at all.
By Muhammad Hakimiabout a year ago in Horror
The Café of Second Chances – Where Strangers Meet and Fate Intervenes
Introduction: A Place Where Time Stands Still In a bustling city where people rush past each other without a second glance, there exists a peculiar little café tucked between a laundromat and an old bookstore. Its sign, slightly crooked and weathered, reads: "The Café of Second Chances."
By 47 jokerabout a year ago in Horror
The House That Hums
I never believed in haunted houses. That was the kind of thing people whispered about in old diners or posted on forums with usernames like “GhostHunter88” and “DeadInside13.” I believed in creaky pipes, bad wiring, and wind howling through gaps in the roof. That was before I moved into the house on Brookmere Lane.
By Muhammad Hakimiabout a year ago in Horror