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.
Echoes of Willow Lane
It stood at the end of Willow Lane, an imposing Victorian relic with weathered gray shingles and windows boarded up like eyes shut tight against the world. Ivy crept up its walls like veins, and the surrounding trees leaned in as if whispering secrets to its worn facade. Locals spoke of it in hushed tones, recounting tales of inexplicable phenomena and a history steeped in tragedy.
By Syed Hammad Hussain2 years ago in Horror
The Solstice Haunting
In the idyllic town of Eldenwood, where cobblestone streets wound through quaint cottages and ancient oaks stood sentinel, an old legend cast a long shadow. This legend, whispered in hushed tones, spoke of a haunting that only appeared on the summer solstice. The townsfolk, skeptical yet intrigued, had long dismissed the tales as mere folklore—until one fateful year when everything changed.
By gyan prakash upadhyay2 years ago in Horror
The Echoes of Eliza
The old Victorian house stood tall and imposing, its once-grand facade now crumbling and neglected. For years, the local children had dared each other to venture up the overgrown path and peer through the dusty windows, whispering rumors of the tragic fate that had befallen the family who had once called this place home.
By Himanshu Kumar2 years ago in Horror
The Haunting of Eldenwood
In the heart of Eldenwood, a town known for its tranquil beauty and deep-rooted traditions, there existed a legend whispered through generations. The legend spoke of a haunting that only revealed itself on the night of the summer solstice, a night when the boundary between the living and the dead blurred. This year, as the town prepared for the solstice festival, an unexpected presence was about to awaken.
By gyan prakash upadhyay2 years ago in Horror
The Other City
Ashwinibabu commutes daily by car from Santragachhi to a private office in Chandni. One evening in the month of Ashar, it started raining heavily. Everyone left the office a bit early because of the rain. Ashwinibabu hoped to reach home before the rain got too heavy. Driving on Second Bridge during rain is risky. But as he approached Eden, the rain intensified along with strong, erratic winds. Forced to pull off the main road, he parked and waited in the car. The increasing rain made him more anxious. When he looked outside, he saw water and lamppost lights at the edge of the road. His head felt dizzy as if a puzzle was forming from the mix of water and light. When things felt normal again, he realized the car was moving. He wasn’t driving it.
By MD. RAFIQUL ISLAM MURAD 2 years ago in Horror
My Madness Only for My Love
Penelope Tuft wasn't your typical bread cook. While her neighbors produced blueberry biscuits and chocolate chip treats, Penelope's manifestations were works of palatable workmanship. Her baked goods were blasts of variety and surface, challenging classification with unusual names like "Starlight Scones" and "Joyous beyond words Cupcakes."
By Iftikhar Akram2 years ago in Horror
Until They Grow Fangs
The front door squeaks as I walk in and an old black and white western plays on the small flat screen in the den. The cover on the sofa reflects some of John Wayne’s greatest work in the sheen of all the plastic. The small townhouse is filled with the scent of mothballs and menthol. Several prescription bottles lay on the coffee table but there’s nothing worth taking. I invite myself in and make myself at home. My muddy boots leave a trail of every step I take; a noticeable contrast in the otherwise pristine living space. It’s probably best if I leave my boots by the door.
By Kenneth Boutte2 years ago in Horror
ToGetHer
Shaky fingers follow along the words listed, “Crimson craft of the far depths, arise from the black of the midnight hour. Keep Turben- Turbenis ughhh!” A young man yells, throwing his book to the floor. “I’m never gonna get this spell right.” He says pushing his glasses up to his face and adjusting his pocket protector beneath his sweater vest. Dimly lit candles cast eerie shadows of his sinister plan along the walls. Jars of small organs from rodents and reptiles line the countertops to help him perform the ritual. He can’t even believe he’s resorted to this measure of desperation but she’ll never see him otherwise. The young man Tristan carefully collects the book, blows out the candles and gives up for the evening. “I hope this doesn’t stain.” He says as he pushes a mop across pentagram drawn in chicken blood on the floor in his small kitchen apartment. With all the ritual candles blown out the young man heads to bed but not before logging on to the dating app and gazing at her profile one last time. “I’m gonna marry that girl one day… One day we’ll be together.” He says before slowly drifting off to sleep.
By Kenneth Boutte2 years ago in Horror
Echoes of the Forgotten Mansion
The old mansion stood at the edge of town, its darkened windows and overgrown gardens a stark contrast to the neatly manicured lawns of its neighbors. Stories of its haunting whispered through generations, tales of strange lights flickering in the attic at night and voices echoing from empty rooms. Most dismissed these as mere folklore, but those who lived closest knew better than to venture near after dusk.
By Syed Hammad Hussain2 years ago in Horror
