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 Forgotten Room
In the heart of the old town, nestled between dilapidated buildings and forgotten alleyways, stood an ancient mansion shrouded in mystery. Its towering structure loomed ominously over the cobblestone streets, its windows boarded up and its façade weathered by time. Locals whispered tales of a dark past haunting the mansion, warning curious souls to steer clear of its cursed halls. But for a group of adventurous teenagers seeking thrills on a dare, the mansion beckoned with an irresistible allure.
By Kpchofficial3 years ago in Horror
The Haunted Cabin in the Woods
Deep in the heart of the dense forest, where the trees whispered secrets and the shadows danced in the moonlight, stood a solitary cabin. It was a place forgotten by time, its weather-beaten walls adorned with vines, and its windows shattered like gaping wounds. The locals whispered tales of horror surrounding the cabin, warning travelers to steer clear of its cursed grounds. But curiosity often gets the best of people, and that was the case for a group of adventurous friends who decided to spend a night there.
By Kpchofficial3 years ago in Horror
THE Bones
Once upon a time, on the border of town, cover in green plant and turned rumors, waited a run down house. Its windows were broken eyes, its doors were rub mouths, and its walls talk secrets of days long past. This was the House of noise, the House of Shadows, the house where the skeletal spirit wander.
By Nagarathinam B3 years ago in Horror
Ghosts of Willow Creek. Content Warning.
In the quiet town of Willow Creek, nestled amongst the whispering pines and murmuring brooks, there existed a house - an old, dilapidated relic of a forgotten era. Its weathered facade bore witness to countless tales, some whispered in hushed tones by the locals, while others remained buried in the shadows of its decaying walls.
By Michael Tauye3 years ago in Horror
Shadows of Deception. Content Warning.
In a small town nestled between rolling hills and serene meadows, the quaint neighborhood of College Park whispered with the secrets of its residents. Amidst the comforting familiarity of suburban life, an unsettling air hung heavy, casting shadows upon the idyllic facade.
By Michael Tauye3 years ago in Horror
Lullaby for a Lost Soul: Unraveling the Secrets of Stockholm's Haunted Mansion
In the heart of Stockholm's Gamla Stan, nestled amongst cobbled streets and ochre-painted buildings, stood the Drakenhus – a towering Gothic mansion cloaked in whispers of tragedy. Its weathered facade, adorned with gargoyles that seemed to sneer at the passing tourists, hinted at a dark past. Inside, the air hung heavy with dust and silence, broken only by the creak of floorboards underfoot. Greta, a young history student with a penchant for the paranormal, had scored a rare opportunity: a night alone in the Drakenhus to research its history. As dusk painted the windows with inky hues, she sat hunched over dusty tomes, her heart pounding with a mix of excitement and apprehension. The first unsettling event came with the chimes of the grandfather clock, each echoing boom resonating through the cavernous hall like a mournful groan. Then, a flicker of movement at the edge of her vision – a wisp of shadow darting across the wall, gone before she could blink. Her unease grew as the hours ticked by, punctuated by strange noises: disembodied whispers, the clatter of unseen objects, and the mournful wail of a child echoing from the upper floors. Driven by curiosity and a healthy dose of foolhardiness, Greta ventured upstairs, her flashlight beam cutting through the oppressive darkness. The air grew colder, the silence thicker, and an oppressive feeling settled upon her. She reached a nursery, its rocking horse swaying eerily in the draft despite all windows being shut. A porcelain doll lay cracked on the floor, its vacant eyes seeming to follow her every move. Suddenly, the temperature plummeted. A bone-chilling gust of wind extinguished her flashlight, plunging her into complete darkness. Panic clawed at her throat as a spectral hand, icy cold, brushed against hers. A ghostly child's laughter, filled with malice and despair, filled the room. Terror propelled her forward. She stumbled through the echoing halls, the laughter pursuing her like a hungry beast. Finally, she found refuge in the library, a room shielded by heavy oak doors. Panting, she barricaded herself behind a massive bookshelf, the laughter muffled but not silenced. As the night wore on, the manifestations intensified. Objects flew across the room, shattering against the walls. The air grew thick with the stench of decay, and the temperature dropped to the point where her breath formed frosty clouds. Through the gap in the bookshelf, she saw a spectral figure, a young girl with tear-streaked cheeks and a tattered dress, her form swirling with an otherworldly glow. Greta, armed with nothing but a historical account she had stumbled upon earlier, spoke in a trembling voice. "I know your story, little one," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "They stole your life, your happiness. But you are not alone." The ghost girl stopped, her spectral form flickering. Greta, emboldened, continued, reciting the forgotten lullaby the girl's mother used to sing, its melody long silenced by tragedy. The room became eerily still, the laughter fading entirely. As the first rays of dawn crept through the window, the spectral girl began to fade, a gentle smile playing on her lips. The warmth returned, the stench dissipated, and the air grew light once more. The lullaby, now barely audible, hung in the air like a bittersweet farewell. Greta, shaken but strangely calm, emerged from the library as the sun bathed the Drakenhus in golden light. The house still held an air of somberness, but the oppressive darkness was gone. The ghost girl had found peace, her story finally acknowledged, her final lullaby sung. And as Greta walked away, she knew the Drakenhus would forever hold a piece of her, forever bound to the spectral child and the chilling night they shared.
By Ajith Kumar M3 years ago in Horror
Nightfox Reports: Screamers
Not many people read news reports from all of the places that I do, just those who see the Big Picture, that obtuse angle of perception that makes other people anxious, so they change the subject and end a conversation as if the one speaking to them was somehow contagious. I have learned not to discuss these things with just anyone, so I will record my findings here on the Internet and occasionally try to find clues to map out the world that is hidden under the day-to-day life that the Mundanes think of as reality.
By Samuel Wright3 years ago in Horror
