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.
Reapers
‘What the fuck do you mean I’m dead? Is that supposed to be some kind of a threat?’ Graham hated it when they reacted like this, it always made things very awkward. He took a step back and assessed the man, who he knew to be John Reginald Daley. Mr Daley appeared to be in his mid-thirties, (Graham knew he was actually 38 years 7 months and 3 days old) with blond hair, which looked like it had recently been completely shaven. His features seemed to be vying for room at the centre of his face, as if he had inhaled too heavily through his nose, and sucked them closer in. The nose itself had been broken more than once, giving him the overall appearance of an ex-boxer or street thug. He was in fact both. His stance was aggressive, chest thrust out, hands clenched into fists, elbows slightly bent, ready to attack. Graham could smell the testosterone coming from him in waves. The only thing that shattered the image was the gaping, bloody hole on the right side of Daley’s head, which Graham could have fit his entire fist in. Mr Daley appeared to be blissfully unaware of his condition.
By Phil Tennantabout a year ago in Horror
The Tree Of Strange Fruits
The creature made a bizarre sight, as it danced gleefully around the trunk of the large pear tree. Skinny as a rake and dressed only in a grubby loin cloth, it skipped and hopped on hooved feet, first one way and then the other, chortling and singing as it went. A small entourage of insects floated lazily along with him, attracted by his pungent odour. As he pranced to a fro, his long, greasy, grey hair, platted into a tail, bounced between a pair of scrawny, leathery wings. Through the thin layer of hair on its head, a pair of black, curved horns protruded ten centimetres into the air. Its goat like face was complete with a triangular goatee beard and angular yellow eyes. As he sung his song, a forked tongue flickered in and out between blackened lips, tasting the air like a snake.
By Phil Tennantabout a year ago in Horror
Natalie Perry in "The Night of the Hunted (1980)"
Late at night, Natalie Perry, a character caught in a world of treachery, fear, and survival instinct, suddenly finds herself in a preposterous moment. The Night of the Hunted, released in 1980, is a film set in an isolated gas station on a lonely highway, showcasing the sharp and dark movie world. While a storm weathers outside, Natalie is encountered with an extreme survival challenge, a struggle where the reality of the people around her is exposed and trust has the most delicate value.
By Shoaib Rehmanabout a year ago in Horror
She Answered the Door Ten Years After She Died
Chapter 1: The Knock at 3:17 It began with a knock. Three slow, deliberate knocks at exactly 3:17 AM. Daniel Keller sat bolt upright in bed. His heart pounded as he reached for the lamp, casting pale yellow light across the bedroom. His wife, Aria, didn’t stir. Outside, the wind whispered through the trees, the house still and silent. Another knock. Three more taps. Not frantic. Calm. Confident. Like someone who belonged. Daniel pulled on his hoodie and stepped out into the hallway, the creaking floorboards betraying every step. At the front door, he hesitated. The street was deserted. No cars. No footsteps in the fresh snow. Then he saw it. An envelope. Crisp. Cream-colored. Placed gently on the welcome mat. He picked it up. There was no stamp, no address. Just one sentence written in delicate, familiar handwriting: "Don’t forget me. – Eliza." His blood turned to ice. Eliza Greene had died ten years ago. And Daniel had buried her himself. --- Chapter 2: Echoes of the Past The next morning, Daniel sat at the kitchen table staring at the letter while Aria made coffee. He didn’t mention it. Couldn’t. Eliza hadn’t just been a girlfriend. She had been the one. They met in college, fell fast and deep, and made plans for a life that never happened. The car crash shattered that world. Daniel survived. Eliza didn’t. The guilt had almost destroyed him. He opened the envelope again. Inside was a small photo. Dated October 12, 2013. The night of the crash. It showed them at their old weekend cabin, smiling, Eliza in his hoodie, her hair tucked behind her ears the way she always wore it when she was cold. There was something else. Coordinates. He typed them into his phone. His breath caught. It was the cabin. But that cabin had burned down in 2014. He’d seen it with his own eyes. Ruins, cinders, and a half-buried wind chime the forest never swallowed. --- Chapter 3: Return to Ashes Daniel told Aria he had a meeting out of town. He packed a bag, filled his tank, and drove north. Every mile closer to the woods felt heavier. The road narrowed. The pine trees leaned in. Snow blanketed the ground when he arrived. A clearing opened before him—and he gasped. The cabin stood tall. Whole. Windows intact. Porch light on. Chimney breathing faint curls of smoke. He stepped out, boots crunching in the snow. No tire tracks. No footprints. Nothing but his own trail. He climbed the steps, heart hammering. Before he could knock, the door creaked open. And there she was. Eliza. Not older. Not ghostly. As he remembered her that very night—flushed cheeks, dark curls, her favorite silver necklace glinting. She smiled. Not surprised. "Hey, D." His knees nearly buckled. --- Chapter 4: The Unfinished Story Inside, the cabin smelled like cinnamon and pine. The fireplace crackled gently. A kettle whistled. The books on the shelves were untouched—except one. Their shared journal. The one he had buried with her. He couldn't speak. Eliza poured tea like nothing had changed. Like time hadn't collapsed. "You brought it with you," she said, gesturing to the photo. "That night was perfect." "Eliza... how is this possible? You're—you died." Her smile faded. "I almost did." Daniel blinked. "Almost?" "There was a fracture. Not in my body—in time. Something didn't seal. I tried to reach you before it closed, but I was... too late. Or too early. I don't know anymore." She led him to the mirror above the mantle. Daniel saw his reflection. But next to it—his younger self. No ring. Same jacket. College version of him. "This place is a tear," she whispered. "It loops through grief. Through guilt. Through love." --- Chapter 5: A Question and a Choice She turned to him, her eyes glistening. "You moved on. That's good. But I need to ask you something. If you could go back, would you love me better... or just earlier?" Daniel felt every year between them collapse. The years of therapy. Of regret. Of learning to love Aria. Of forgiving himself. He wanted to say yes. He wanted to say no. But the cabin began to flicker. "Time is closing," Eliza said softly. "You can't have both lives. Choose." She stepped forward. "If you open the door again tomorrow, you stay here. With me. Forever." Daniel reached out. His fingers brushed hers. She was already fading. --- Chapter 6: Return to Silence Daniel drove home at dawn. The road behind him slowly disappeared in his rearview. Aria was waiting in the kitchen. She looked at him and didn’t ask questions. Just hugged him. A week later, on their anniversary, she handed him a box. Inside was a necklace. Silver. Simple. "Found this in your jacket," she said. "Did you mean to give it to me?" He hadn’t. But he nodded. She smiled. "It’s beautiful." Inside the pendant, folded small, was a note. One he never placed there. "Thank you for remembering. That’s all I ever wanted. -E" That night, at 3:17 AM, the wind knocked three times on the front door. And never again. --- Tags: horror, paranormal, mystery, love story, Vocal Media, time loop, ghost story, second chances, cabin in the woods
By Ikram Ullahabout a year ago in Horror
The Whistling Widow of Bellmere House
The House at the Edge of the Fog In the rural countryside of Dorset, England, sits an abandoned Victorian manor that the locals refuse to approach after sundown. Nestled at the edge of the moorlands, Bellmere House has long been swallowed by ivy, shadowed trees, and whispers of grief. The windows are clouded with dust, and the doors—though locked for decades—sometimes creak open with no wind at all.
By Logan Bennettabout a year ago in Horror
The Devil at Kuldhara Based on the real abandoned village of Kuldhara, Rajasthan, India.
The Devil at Kuldhara Based on the real abandoned village of Kuldhara, Rajasthan, India. They say no one has lived in Kuldhara for over 200 years. Not since the villagers vanished overnight — every door left ajar, every pot left boiling, and not a single trace of struggle. Just silence.
By Dr nivara bloomabout a year ago in Horror
The Cursed Indigo Plantation
It was the monsoon season of 1987. Young researcher Avik Sen journeyed to a remote village in Nadia, where many legends surrounded an ancient "Nilkuthi," or indigo plantation house. Avik's primary goal was to uncover the history of this plantation and collect local folklore. Upon arriving in the village, Avik quickly realized that none of the villagers dared to venture near the decaying structure. They warned, "Restless spirits awaken there at night." Screams, cries, and the rattling of chains can be heard." Avik dismissed these tales as mere superstitions. The very next day, he found himself before the indigo plantation house. It was a dilapidated, rain-soaked edifice of red brick, its walls stained by creeping water hyacinths, its windows barred by rusty iron rods—the whole scene exuded a thrilling, eerie atmosphere. It was a Friday on that day. In the late afternoon, Avik ventured inside. He found himself in a large drawing-room, its walls adorned with faded portraits of long-dead English sahibs. In one of the adjoining rooms, he discovered a tattered diary. The diary, written by "Edward James Hamilton," was written in 1859. An entry read: "Today, another slave attempted to escape. I have locked him in the cellar below. This plantation is mine alone now. Those who try to flee are lost within these walls forever." As Avik read the words, a sudden, unnatural chill swept through the room. He began to tremble. Just then, a whisper brushed past his ear from behind—"Why have you come?" He whirled around to see a woman standing there, clad in a stark white sari, her hair soaking wet, and a blood-like liquid streaming from her eyes. In an instant, she vanished. Avik tried to leave, but the door was now firmly locked! He tried everything he could, but it wouldn't go away. He desperately searched for another way out when his eyes fell upon a narrow staircase, spiraling down into the cellar. As he descended into the oppressive darkness of the cellar, a pungent, suffocating stench nearly choked him. He switched on his mobile phone's flashlight and cautiously moved forward. There, scattered across the damp floor, he saw several skeletons, with heavy chains strewn about them. It seemed as if these were the remains of people once imprisoned and forgotten here. Suddenly, the voice echoed from behind him again, closer this time— “Free us…” An ice-cold hand, impossibly cold, touched his neck. Avik tried to scream, but no sound escaped his constricted throat. Looking ahead, his light illuminated at least ten shadowy figures, slowly closing in, surrounding him. All of them were whispering, a chorus of despair— “You must leave... or you too will remain here forever…” A sudden, violent flash of lightning momentarily lit up the entire cellar. In one cobweb-laden corner, he spotted the final, loose page of the diary. Scrawled on it were the words— "If anyone seeks the truth, they must set these souls free. Otherwise, they too will be trapped here for all eternity." Avik understood. There was only one way out—he had to break those accursed chains. With trembling hands, he began to wrench them apart, one by one. With each shattered link, a shadowy figure seemed to sigh and dissolve into the stale air. As the last chain broke with a resounding crack, a fierce, unearthly wind swept through the cellar, and with a groan, the main door above creaked open. Outside, the first pale light of dawn was breaking. Avik stumbled out, gasping, never daring to look back. After that day, he gave up writing, and his research too. If anyone ever asked him why, he would simply say— “To be honest, when you delve into some histories, it's not just the pages that awaken, but the souls as well...
By Juyel Khan Khanabout a year ago in Horror
I Paid $10 for a ‘Haunted’ Doll on eBay—Now I Can’t Sleep
It started as a dare. My friend Dylan and I were deep into one of those late-night YouTube spirals—paranormal investigations, ghost hunters, creepy Reddit stories—when he turned to me and said, “I bet you won’t actually buy one of those haunted dolls.”
By MALIK Saadabout a year ago in Horror
She Wanted to Be Prom Queen. She Ended Up in a Body Bag
She Wanted to Be Prom Queen. She Ended Up in a Body Bag. An in-depth look at Fear Street: Prom Queen There’s something eternally haunting about high school. The drama, the cliques, the unspoken rivalries. Now imagine that world dipped in blood, drenched in secrets, and stalked by a killer who’s checking off prom candidates one by one. Welcome to Fear Street: Prom Queen—a terrifyingly twisted throwback to teen horror done right.
By Kevin Hudsonabout a year ago in Horror
The Last Bell of St. Augustine
In a quiet village nestled between dense woods and rolling hills stood a long-abandoned church known as St Augustine. It had once been the pride of the town, its bell ringing proudly every Sunday morning. But the bell had not rung for over fifty years. Not since the fire.
By M Kamrul Islam about a year ago in Horror
The Last Text Message She Sent Still Gives Me Chills
It was the kind of blizzard that shut down half the city and left strangers huddled together in cafes for warmth. She had wild red hair, a laugh that filled a room, and the kind of charm that felt both chaotic and magnetic. She wasn’t like anyone I’d ever met—and that terrified me in the best way.
By MALIK Saadabout a year ago in Horror
