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 Madness. Top Story - March 2025.
I nestled deeper into the bed, pleading for sleep to overcome me. It was the same thing every single night. Nothing ever changed. I wrapped my comforter tighter around me willing the plush softness to lull me into a false sense of security. But slumber, as always, eluded me.
By Natassia Lawrence2 years ago in Horror
The Shadow in the Mirror
The apartment was perfect—spacious, affordable, and in a quiet neighborhood. The only oddity was the large, antique mirror hanging in the hallway. Its ornate frame was chipped, and the glass had a faint, smoky tint. The landlord said it had been there for decades, left behind by the previous tenant. I didn’t think much of it at the time.
By Word Weaver2 years ago in Horror
The Forgotten Portrait
The attic was a treasure trove of forgotten memories. After my grandmother passed away, I was tasked with sorting through her belongings. Among the dusty boxes and old furniture, I found it—a portrait of a woman I didn’t recognize. She was beautiful, with piercing green eyes and a faint, mysterious smile. The painting was signed at the bottom: "E. Blackwood, 1922."
By Word Weaver2 years ago in Horror
The Shadow Beneath the Waves
The ocean has always called to me. As a marine biologist, I’ve spent years exploring its depths, uncovering its mysteries. But nothing could have prepared me for what I found that day.
By Word Weaver2 years ago in Horror
The Call of the Phantom
1 Rajon by no means believed in ghosts. Superstitions, folklore, and eerie village testimonies had been not anything greater than exaggerated testimonies to him. Having studied in the town for years, he took into consideration himself a logical man. But his village had one chilling belief—by no means, to the Nishis call. They stated the Nishi became a spirit that mimicked the voices of cherished ones to trap sufferers into the darkness. Those who replied by no means returned.
By Vijoy2 years ago in Horror
The Last Train to Blackwood
The train to Blackwood was notorious. Locals called it the "Ghost Train," a relic from the past that still ran on the darkest nights. I didn’t believe in ghost stories, but when I missed the last regular train, I had no choice. The station was empty, the platform lit by a single flickering bulb. The air was thick with the smell of rain and rust.
By Word Weaver2 years ago in Horror
The Headless Demon of Kalindi
The story I'm about to share with you was sent to us by someone named Mahim. His home is in Kalindi Union, Keraniganj Upazila, Dhaka District. The incident happened to his uncle, and it is believed to have occurred around 1992. So, it's necessary to describe their area. Their village has two roads on the east and west sides, with their village in between. A road runs through the middle of the village, and further ahead, it merges with the two roads on the east and west. Mahim's maternal grandmother's house is located halfway along that road. Basically, their maternal and paternal grandparents' houses are in the same village. Anyway, the grandmother's house was surrounded by trees and plants, and there was a pond in the middle. On the way to the grandmother's house is his aunt's house, and his aunt's father-in-law was a folk doctor. People called him Nimai.
By Lily2 years ago in Horror
Invisible. Content Warning.
Invisible Navidu..... Nirmal woke up to his voice and saw Navidu's painful face..... Why, Navidu.... Why are you crying..... What happened?
By Rohitha Lanka2 years ago in Horror
The Cursed River
1. The Call of the River It turned into a deep, silent night. In one nook of the village flowed a darkish, mysterious river known as Kalendi. The villagers feared it, believing it turned into cursed. By day, it seemed like another river—calm, serene, and nearly inviting. But at night, it transformed. Strange whispers drifted from the water, muffled cries echoed via the air, and sometimes, humans claimed they heard a person calling their name.
By Vijoy2 years ago in Horror
The Cursed Graveyard
1. The Haunting Atmosphere At the very fringe of the village, surrounded with the aid of dense timber and an unending silence, stood the Kalapahad Cemetery. It was there for centuries, however villagers feared it after sunset. Whispers of eerie laughter, floating lights, and shadowy figures haunted their dreams.
By Vijoy2 years ago in Horror
The Last Passenger
Rafiq boarded the last bus of the night, relieved to find it nearly empty. The rain poured outside, blurring the city lights. He slid into a window seat near the back, shaking off the cold. The driver, an old man with hollow eyes, gave him a brief nod before shutting the doors. The bus rumbled forward, its engine growling against the storm. Rafiq glanced around. A few passengers sat scattered throughout—an elderly woman clutching a cloth bag, a man in a suit staring out the window, and a young girl sitting alone near the front. Something felt… off. The bus was oddly silent. No one spoke. No one moved. Even the girl, who looked no older than ten, sat unnaturally still, her face hidden by her long, dark hair. As the bus sped through the empty streets, Rafiq noticed something strange—the route was unfamiliar. He had taken this bus before, but the turns felt wrong. The city buildings faded, replaced by endless fog. He leaned forward. "Excuse me, driver, where are we going?" The old man didn’t respond. Rafiq’s stomach twisted. He turned to the nearest passenger—the man in the suit. "Do you know where this bus is headed?" The man slowly turned his head. His face was pale, his eyes empty sockets. Rafiq recoiled in horror. The old woman beside him did the same—her skin paper-thin, her mouth stretching into an unnatural grin. His breath caught in his throat. He turned to the young girl, the only one who hadn’t moved. "Help me," he whispered. The girl lifted her head. Her hollow, black eyes met his. "You shouldn’t be here." The lights flickered. The bus shook violently. The fog outside thickened, swallowing everything. "Stop the bus!" Rafiq shouted, scrambling to his feet. The driver finally turned to him. His face was decayed, flesh hanging from his bones. His voice was barely a whisper. "You were never supposed to get on." The bus screeched to a halt. The doors flung open, revealing nothing but darkness outside. A force yanked Rafiq forward, pulling him into the abyss. The next morning, the city’s first bus of the day followed its usual route. At one stop, the doors opened, but no one was there. Yet, on the last seat at the back, a single wet handprint remained.
By SHAKIB2 years ago in Horror
The Shadow Behind the Door
Naila had never believed in ghosts. When she rented the old countryside cottage for a weekend getaway, she laughed at the landlord’s warning. “Don’t open the backroom door after midnight,” the old man had said. “No matter what you hear.” She dismissed it as superstition. The house was ancient, with creaky wooden floors and candle-lit sconces, but that only added to its charm. After unpacking, she made herself a cup of tea and curled up with a book. The night air was crisp, and the silence outside was peaceful. At exactly midnight, a soft knock echoed from the backroom. Naila froze. It wasn’t possible. She was alone. The knock came again—slow, deliberate. Then, a whisper seeped through the wood. “Let me out.” Her pulse quickened. Maybe it was just the wind. Maybe an animal had gotten trapped inside. Gathering her courage, she approached the door. The air around it was unnaturally cold. “Nonsense,” she muttered, reaching for the handle. Then, she remembered the landlord’s warning. Don’t open the door. The knocking grew urgent, more desperate. Then, something scratched at the wood from the inside. Naila backed away, her breath shallow. She forced herself to return to the couch, trying to ignore the persistent sound. But as the minutes passed, a new horror crept in—the knocks were no longer coming from the backroom. They were moving. Now, they came from the walls. From the ceiling. From the floor beneath her feet. Then, a whisper slithered into her ear, close as a lover’s breath. “You should have opened the door.” Naila screamed and ran for the front door, but it wouldn’t budge. The locks twisted on their own, trapping her inside. The candlelight flickered wildly, casting shadows that danced and twisted—until one of them stepped forward. A tall, gaunt figure with hollow eyes stood in the corner, watching her. With a voice like the wind through dead leaves, it spoke. “Now, I come to you.” The lights went out. The next morning, the landlord arrived to check on the cottage. The front door was locked, just as he had left it. But when he stepped inside, the house was empty. No sign of Naila—except for the deep scratches on the backroom door, as if something had tried to claw its way out. And the whisper that greeted him: “Let me out.”
By SHAKIB2 years ago in Horror