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 Sinister Allure of E - Cigarettes. AI-Generated.
In a dimly lit, seedy corner of the city, there stood a small convenience store. The neon lights outside flickered erratically, casting an eerie glow on the sidewalk. Inside, rows of shelves were stocked with an assortment of goods, but one section seemed to stand out, almost as if it were calling out to passers - by with a malevolent intent. This was the e - cigarette section.
By lu yunpengabout a year ago in Horror
"The Last Message Before Midnight" . Content Warning.
It all started with a text message. 11:47 PM. Buzz. One notification. One sentence. "Don’t let midnight come, or it all resets."
By Shawn kellyabout a year ago in Horror
Whisperglass: The Mirror's Call
Chapter 1: The Shadow in the Mirror The night was thick with silence. Crickets chirped faintly in the distance as the full moon bathed the narrow dirt road in a cold, silver light. At the end of the path stood an abandoned house, its roof sagging and its wooden walls leaning like an old man on his last breath.
By Muhammad danish Johanabout a year ago in Horror
Don't look behind the mirror
Don't miss the ending !!! A scary short story you must read once! Don't Look Behind The Mirror Everyone warned Sarah not to move into Apartment 3B.
By Ibrahim about a year ago in Horror
The Silence in Room 616
Jordan was initially struck by the smell of aged wood, mildew, and a faint metallic undertone at the Briarwood Inn. The kind of place that felt untouched by time, like it had been quietly rotting behind a curtain of ivy and rain for the past hundred years.
By Muntasir about a year ago in Horror
The Haunting of Blackthorn Manor
The mansion was abandoned for years, but when I moved in, it felt like someone—something—was still there. I knew what I was getting into—or at least I thought I did. Blackthorn Manor had been the talk of Cedar Hollow for decades. A sprawling Victorian monstrosity perched atop the hill overlooking our small town, its silhouette a jagged tear against the sky. When it went up for auction at a fraction of its worth, I saw opportunity where others saw only decay and whispered legends.
By A S M Rajib Hassan Choudhuryabout a year ago in Horror
The Forgotten Child
Every year, on the same night, a child appears in my dreams, but this time… This time, I woke up and saw her standing in my room.
By A S M Rajib Hassan Choudhuryabout a year ago in Horror
Demonic Shadows
Chapter One – The Beginning of Darkness The night was quiet in the small village surrounded by mountains. The echoes of daily life faded into the empty streets, leaving an eerie silence. While most of the villagers were deep in sleep, Kira tossed and turned in her bed, trying to push away the troubling thoughts of her mother, whom she had lost years ago.
By mohamed elsayedabout a year ago in Horror
True Story | The Mysterious Flute & The Jinn of the Village
The incident took place sometime in the 1960s in a village where, at that time, there was not such a dense population and it was not as developed. This incident involves two brothers, one named Hafiz Uddin and the other Karim Uddin. Their ancestral home was in Katali village in Netrokona district. Hafiz and Karim were indeed two brothers, with Hafiz being the elder and Karim the younger. The brothers owned some rice fields, and since there was a lot of theft occurring at night—where thieves would cut and take away the ripe rice—it was common for homes to be robbed as well. During the night, it had become a regular affair for someone to sneak in and harvest the ripe rice. Therefore, they needed to guard this ripe rice.
By Lilyabout a year ago in Horror
VANISHED. AI-Generated.
It was a cold Monday morning when people first noticed Lana Davis wasn’t at school. She wasn’t the kind of girl everyone talked to, but she was the kind of girl people noticed. Always wearing the same oversized gray hoodie—sleeves hanging over her hands, eyes half-hidden under the hood—and clutching that worn leather journal like it held the secrets of the universe. Some said she was weird. Others said she was a genius. Rae Davis knew the truth: she was both.
By feter etteabout a year ago in Horror
The Girl in the Mirror. AI-Generated.
The Girl in the Mirror Prologue: The Inheritance Lena Carter had never been close to her grandmother. The old woman lived in a decaying Victorian house at the edge of Blackwood, a town shrouded in mist and whispered superstitions. When the lawyer’s letter arrived—*"You are the sole heir to Margaret Holloway’s estate"*—Lena’s first instinct was to sell the place and never look back.
By Shaym Imranabout a year ago in Horror
The Whispers from the Attic: A Night I Can’t Forget. AI-Generated.
It started on a quiet, uneventful evening, the kind where the air is still, and the only sound is the rustling of leaves outside. My family had just moved into a quaint, old house at the edge of town. It was the kind of place you’d find in a horror movie – creaky floors, a peeling roof, and, most unsettling of all, an attic that no one seemed to want to talk about. I was eleven when we moved in, and I remember feeling a strange sense of unease the moment we stepped inside. The house had a history, or so I was told. But what struck me the most was the attic. It was always locked, but every now and then, I would hear the faintest of noises coming from behind the door – whispers. I tried to convince myself it was just the wind or maybe the house settling. But deep down, I knew something wasn’t right. One night, as the clock struck midnight, I woke to the sound of soft, hushed whispers drifting from the attic. It was so faint at first, I thought it was a dream. But then I heard it again, clearer this time. I tried to ignore it, pulling the covers over my head, but the whispers grew louder, almost as if they were calling me. Unable to shake the feeling of dread that settled in my stomach, I quietly got out of bed and tiptoed towards the attic door. The wooden floorboards creaked beneath my feet, and my heart raced with every step. My hand hovered over the rusty doorknob. Should I open it? What if I wasn’t supposed to? With trembling fingers, I twisted the knob. The door creaked open, revealing the darkness within. The air was cold, and the faint scent of something long forgotten filled the room. I could barely make out the outline of old furniture, boxes stacked in corners, and thick layers of dust. But what caught my attention was the source of the whispers. In the farthest corner of the room, a small, dim light flickered. I stepped closer, my curiosity outweighing my fear. That’s when I saw it – an old, cracked mirror leaning against the wall. The whispers seemed to be coming from it, echoing from the glass. I reached out, my reflection staring back at me. But then, something strange happened. The reflection shifted. The face in the mirror twisted, its eyes dark and hollow, its mouth silently forming words. The whispers grew louder, now like a chorus of voices. They were no longer just words but something darker, more menacing. “Leave this place,” the voice hissed. “Leave before it’s too late.” I stumbled back, my heart pounding in my chest. I turned to run, but the door slammed shut with a deafening bang. The whispers turned to shrieks, and the air grew unbearably cold. My breath came in shallow gasps as I scrambled to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge. Panic gripped me, and I felt the walls closing in. It was like the house itself was alive, suffocating me, trapping me in its grip. Then, as I stood there, frozen in terror, the light from the mirror flickered once more, revealing a shadowy figure standing behind me. It was tall, its face obscured by a dark hood, but I could feel its presence. It wasn’t human. The whispers became clearer now, and the figure stepped closer, its cold fingers grazing my shoulder. “Why are you here?” it whispered, its voice like ice. “You should never have come.” I tried to scream, but my voice was swallowed by the darkness. My legs felt like they were made of lead, and every movement was a struggle. I reached for the door again, but the figure grabbed my arm, its grip icy and unrelenting. “Leave now, before it’s too late,” the figure warned, its voice now echoing in my mind. I didn’t know how, but I managed to break free from its grip. I ran, stumbling over old crates and forgotten furniture, the whispers chasing me, growing louder and more frantic with every step. The door finally gave way, and I bolted down the stairs, my heart racing. I didn’t stop until I was outside, gasping for air, the chill of the night air biting at my skin. I could still hear the whispers, though, lingering in the back of my mind. I wanted to forget everything I had seen, to erase the images of the shadowy figure and the twisted reflection in the mirror. But I knew, deep down, that the whispers hadn’t stopped. They were still out there, waiting for the next person to wander into the attic. And one day, they would call again.
By Haad Khanabout a year ago in Horror