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.
BLESS(To be continued)
Two hours before the execution, I went into the cell to give the condemned man psychological counseling before his execution.
ISLAMABAD: The district and sessions judge (DSJ) on Tuesday adjourned hearing on the appeals against the conviction of former prime minister Imran Khan and his spouse Bushra Bibi in a case related to contracting Nikkah during the latter’s Iddat period.
Khawar Fareed Manika's representative was noticeably absent during the court proceedings. Judge Shahrukh Arjumand presided over the appeals hearing.
Coming Home
He was gone to that other place. The place where he could hide and they couldn’t hurt the real him. Alex heard them coming. He had been alone for hours. He hid in the closet. Maybe they wouldn’t look there? They searched the house. He pulled clothes off hangers and hid underneath them. She opened the door.
sagar dhitalPublished 9 days ago in HorrorCampfire Horror 6
The fat reggae bass vibrated through the beat-up Honda Civic, a counterpoint to the lazy puffs of blue-green smoke curling from the joint being passed between them. Jay, at the wheel, Emma, shotgunning the front seat, and their friend Alex, crammed in the back, giggled at the absurdity of life hurtling towards them at seventy miles an hour. Their destination: Blackwood Creek, a remote campsite deep in a national park, rumored to have "good vibes."
Campfire Horror 5
He wasn't much of a talker. Usually, he would only mumble a simple "Hi Ashley" His voice was barely audible above a whisper. However, his gaze would linger on Ashley for too long, almost like a moth drawn to the light. He never gave her a malicious look but a shy admiration.
Midnight Drive to Terror Hollow
In the heart of a desolate countryside, there lay a winding road known to locals as the Haunted Highway. Stories whispered of spectral sightings, eerie apparitions, and unexplained occurrences that plagued those who dared to travel its dark path after nightfall.
LAKSHMAN MOHANRAJPublished 9 days ago in HorrorEchoes of the Forgotten Well
Deep in the heart of a secluded forest, there stood an old well, its stone walls weathered by time and neglect. Local folklore whispered tales of the well being cursed, its waters tainted by the souls of those who had met their demise within its depths.
LAKSHMAN MOHANRAJPublished 10 days ago in HorrorThe Haunted Table
Once upon a moonless night, in a quaint countryside cottage, there stood a table that bore a dark secret. The table, crafted from ancient oak, had been passed down through generations, each owner oblivious to the malevolent force it harbored.
LAKSHMAN MOHANRAJPublished 10 days ago in HorrorThe Phantasmic Broadcast
In a quaint suburban neighborhood, there stood an old house, its faded paint peeling off like dead skin. It was a relic from another era, its windows staring like dark, soulless eyes into the night. This house belonged to the Peterson family, who had lived there for generations, but none dared to venture near after dark.
LAKSHMAN MOHANRAJPublished 10 days ago in Horror"The Shadowed Secrets of Blackwood Manor"
In the heart of the dense forest, shrouded in mist and mystery, stood Blackwood Manor—a place whispered about in fearful tones by the locals. Legends of dark rituals, tragic deaths, and restless spirits surrounded the old mansion like a cloak of dread.
LAKSHMAN MOHANRAJPublished 10 days ago in HorrorLost Souls in the Wilderness
In the heart of the dense forest stood an abandoned cabin, its wooden walls weathered and worn, its windows shattered, and its doors creaking in the wind. Locals spoke in hushed tones of the dark secrets that lurked within, warning travelers to steer clear of its cursed grounds. But curiosity often outweighed caution, and on one fateful night, four friends decided to spend the evening in the cabin, seeking thrills and adventure.
Ebiyemi OloloPublished 11 days ago in HorrorThe Gingerbread Man
Mormor, ( Swedish for Mother's mother), hummed gingerly as she stood on her very sturdy stool to reach far, far back into the very high, high shelf for the baking goods; her plump white fingers tugged at the shoebox full of tin cutter's, some quite old, older than she, one quite new and sharp. Mice leapt discreetly to the sides of the shelf so as not to fall down with the shoebox, the cherry cheeked Mormor and her plump fingers where they would surely meet the end of her broomstick. Soon it was St. Lucia and this was when her official holiday baking season was launched each year. The winter darkness was a cosy time, one for family sitting around the fire, glogg making, crocheting and knitting with great intent to finishing the grandchildren's Christmas scarves and colourful socks just in the nick of time. In the village the church bells rang and although she would not go to the St. Lucia ceremony this year, her grand-son, Benny would be skating across the well frozen pond afterwards, tromping up the glistening snowy hill that her old red farmhouse sat upon and entering her kitchen with a calamity of excitement. He was always hungry. She threw the ingredients memorised from her mother's recipe into a large wooden bowl, the smell of familiar spices delighted her as she listened to the St. Lucia songs coming from the broadcast on her small television sitting on a small table by the window. Of course she'd already made the Lucia buns in advance so little Benny once defrosted from his frisky jaunt could curl up next to the fire, sip warm chocolaty milk and delight in the spoils of his Mormor's snuggly, warm hearted ways. Being the only grandson in a flock of cousins and sisters was wretched at times, however it gave him more specialness, a sense of well deserved indulgences which he eagerly clamoured for since he was so small that her apron strings swayed above his cinnamon coloured hair. For years they had spent days together, baking, preparing his favourite dinner, mashed potatoes with meatballs covered in ketchup; watching soccer matches on the telly and his specialness grew and grew so very big that he knew that know one mattered more than himself. Mormor had lost her husband before Benny was born, thus showering him with as much affection as she did confections.