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 Shadowed Door
Elders in the sleepy town of Alora told a story among themselves, one about a door concealed far into the forest. They referred to it as the "Shadowed Door," a location that few had visited and none had come back.
By MD. RAFIQUL ISLAM MURAD 2 years ago in Horror
“Handling the Undead”: Hulu’s Latest Take on Zombie Stories
In just four days, the Norwegian horror movie Handling the Undead (2024) will be added to Hulu’s September lineup. In today’s day and age, moviegoers are spoiled for choice when it comes to zombie content. It can often feel like every angle of the zombie concept has been tried, and there’s little else to explore. Amid the saturated “fast zombie” movie market comes the chilling Norwegian horror movie Handling the Undead. Rather than exploring the tried and true zombie tropes like extreme violence, gore, and disease as its mainstay, this film turns to a much deeper message instead.
By Total Apex Entertainment & Sports2 years ago in Horror
Echoes. Content Warning.
**The Hospital of Lingering Shadows** The hospital stood silent, forgotten by time. Its windows, now shattered, gazed out like dead eyes into the surrounding mist, where the trees bent unnaturally, as if bowing to some unseen terror. Rumors had spread for decades about the place—a facility once used for medical experiments long buried by history. No one entered the building willingly. Not anymore. Sarah, however, was drawn to it. A fascination, perhaps an obsession, with the stories of strange happenings within its rotting walls had brought her to the front door. She hesitated only a moment before stepping inside. The air was thick with an unnatural chill, and as soon as the door creaked shut behind her, she felt the weight of the place settle over her. It was as though the very walls were watching her every move. The stale scent of antiseptic hung in the air, mixed with something else—something rancid, that turned her stomach with every breath. Her flashlight flickered to life, casting long, erratic shadows across the peeling walls. Every inch of the building seemed to hum with tension, like a predator waiting for its prey to step closer. She had only gone a few feet inside when she heard it—a soft, barely perceptible *click*—like the sound of a door unlocking. Sarah paused, listening intently. She swept her flashlight across the hall, but nothing moved. The silence that followed was deafening, the kind of silence that pressed against her ears, making her feel as though something was breathing just behind her. She turned sharply, heart racing, but found nothing. Just the empty hall stretching endlessly in both directions. Yet, something wasn’t right. The air itself seemed to shift, growing denser, more oppressive. And then came the sound—soft footsteps, echoing faintly in the distance. There was no one else here. She swallowed hard, her breath quickening. The footsteps grew louder, but they didn’t follow any natural pattern—some were slow, deliberate, while others were fast, frantic, as if something was running. She couldn't tell from where they were coming. They seemed to circle her, closing in from all directions, but the hall remained empty. The doors lining the hallway began to creak open—one by one—each revealing nothing but dark, hollow rooms. But Sarah knew better. She could feel it. **Something was in those rooms, watching her.** Her flashlight flickered again, the beam growing dimmer. The temperature plummeted, and she could see her breath fogging the air in front of her. Just as she turned to leave, the doors slammed shut with a violent bang, all at once, sending a shudder through the entire building. Sarah’s heart pounded in her chest as she stumbled backward, her hand brushing the icy-cold wall. A loud *crack* echoed through the corridor as a lightbulb burst above her, raining down shards of glass. Panic welled in her throat, but before she could move, the hallway lights began to flicker erratically. In the brief flashes of light, she caught glimpses of figures—blurred, indistinct—at the edge of her vision. They were there, and then gone. The sound of metal scraping against the floor reverberated down the hall. Slowly, inexorably, the sound grew louder, drawing closer with each second. Sarah’s breath hitched as her flashlight blinked out, plunging her into complete darkness. She could hear it now—right behind her—the soft scraping of something sharp dragging across the floor. She froze, too terrified to turn around, but the sound grew louder, now accompanied by shallow, labored breathing. Cold sweat dripped down her back as she felt the pressure of something—or someone—hovering just inches behind her. Her skin prickled with the sensation of being watched, of unseen eyes tracing every movement, every breath. Summoning every ounce of courage, she spun around. Her heart dropped. **Nothing**. But the air was colder, heavier. The sense of presence was undeniable. Suddenly, the floor beneath her began to vibrate softly, like a pulse, as if the building itself were alive. The walls creaked and groaned as the hallway seemed to stretch, elongating into an impossible distance. The far end of the corridor flickered in and out of sight, warped by an unseen force. The silence was broken by a woman’s voice—a soft, broken whisper, calling her name from the darkness. "Sarah…" The voice echoed, disembodied, coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. Her legs threatened to give out as the sound grew louder, more insistent, until it was all she could hear, the walls themselves chanting her name in a haunting chorus. The temperature dropped again, and icy fingers seemed to brush against her arm. She gasped, recoiling, but saw only empty air. Then, without warning, the hallway doors burst open again, but this time they revealed more than darkness. Inside the rooms, the furniture had moved—beds were overturned, chairs placed in odd angles as if they had been violently tossed about. And in each room, the faint outline of something flickered—shapes barely visible, like imprints of terrible things that had happened long ago. The whispers grew frantic now, unintelligible, overlapping, filling her head until she could hardly think. She stumbled backward, desperate to escape, her footsteps heavy on the cold tile floor. But as she neared the exit, the building seemed to shift, blocking her path. **She wasn’t getting out.** The last thing Sarah saw before the lights went out for good was her reflection in the glass door. But something was wrong. **It wasn’t her face staring back.** The hospital had claimed her, as it had claimed so many before. And from the outside, it stood silent once more, waiting for the next to wander in.
By Sudarsan2 years ago in Horror
Music. Content Warning.
Ellis sat down at his piano and gently pressed a key. The thing was still in tune, thank the Forgotten Gods. Behind him, the locked closet door rattled gently, almost like it was being called by the one, continuous note. Ellis looked back, a weary smile on his lips, right on time.
By Alexander McEvoy2 years ago in Horror
Green . Runner-up in Unreliable Challenge.
I love my daughter more than anything in this world. She is beautiful, with a heart of gold that seems to grow with each passing day. She has always had an innate sense of right and wrong, leaving small coins for homeless people as she passed them, or picking up empty beer cans with her tiny hands to throw them in the bin. The world needs more people like her, and I would do anything to keep my snowflake safe. Though I must admit, since the car crash one year ago, I’ve become more overprotective than I care to admit. I see dangers lurking around every corner, haunted by the memory of the drunken driver who almost took her from me.
By Em Everheart2 years ago in Horror
The Wendigo. Content Warning.
The sun was starting to set. Normally, as it fell beyond the mountain-lined horizon, the flaming star painted the sky a kaleidoscope of reds, oranges, pinks, and occasionally blues. But today... it was grey. A solemn, cool grey. The bleak color dyed the meadow, the long grass, and the emaciated trees nearby into something edging on the brink of ominous. What little wind there was made the grey grass whisper and the skeletal trees rattle. I could hear no birds, no crickets, no frogs, or the squeaks of bats. Not even an owl. If I concentrate, I don’t think I could have heard my own heart.
By Jennisea Standing Rock2 years ago in Horror
"The Voices in the Walls: A Tale of a Haunted Apartment". Content Warning.
"What Would You Do if the Walls in Your Home Began Whispering Secrets You Were Never Meant to Hear?" It was a typical Tuesday night when I first heard it—a soft, persistent murmur, like a distant radio playing just out of reach. I brushed it off, thinking it was the old pipes in my new apartment. But the whispers grew louder, as if they were trying to claw their way through the walls.
By Oasis whimzy2 years ago in Horror
The Hypnotic Abyss
The typhoon out of doors changed into relentless. Rain lashed in opposition to the windows and the wind howled like a tortured spirit. within the dimly lit residing room, the air felt thick with tension. Mark sat in his armchair, eyes closed, his respiratory even and serene. His older brother, Alex, paced nervously, his fingers trembling as he clutched a small pocket watch. It had begun as a game a harmless trick to entertain themselves all through the power outage. Alex was analyzing approximately hypnosis and the notion it might be a laugh to try it out on Mark. Hed by no means imagined matters would spiral so far out of manipulation.
By Shamshath Begam2 years ago in Horror
COLLEGE. Content Warning.
COLLEGE “Bossier Parish Community College...I don’t even know anything about this damn college” Trudy quipped to Stephanie. “I have never even been to the city like this. I like my little quiet life here”. Trudy lived in a rural area right outside of Shreveport, Louisiana her whole entire life and was a little anxious about living in the city.
By Awfully Twisted2 years ago in Horror
Beyond the Mirror
There was a strange store at the end of the cobblestone street in the sleepy village of Harrow, where it looked as though time stood still. The location was known as "The Looking Glass," and it was full of oddities and antiquities that seemed to harken back to bygone eras.
By MD. RAFIQUL ISLAM MURAD 2 years ago in Horror
House of whispers
It’s been six months since we moved into the old house on Maplewood Street. Mom said it was a “fresh start” for us, a way to move on from everything that happened with Dad. I didn’t really mind. The house was huge, much bigger than our cramped apartment back in the city, and it had a big backyard with lots of trees. But from the moment we stepped inside, I felt like something was… off. I had no way of knowing what. Just yet.
By davide avenia2 years ago in Horror
The Beans of San Isidro
The small village of San Isidro, nestled in the hills of El Salvador, had long been known for its rich coffee. The volcanic soil and cool mountain air produced beans that seemed to carry something special, a depth of flavor no other region could match. For generations, the coffee farms had thrived, passing down their secrets from parent to child.
By Jason “Jay” Benskin2 years ago in Horror