footage

Footage so horrific, you wish it'd stayed hidden; discover found footage depicting horror in real-life, from eerie forest encounters to cemetery dwellers to paranormal activity and more.

Creep is an Excellent Character Study of a Serial Killer Through the Use of Found Footage
I decided to give Creep a watch, when I heard about the hype surrounding this film by horror fans. I was impressed with the film, the story only followed two characters, and it was done brilliantly.
By Emy Quinnabout a year ago in Horror
My Mother’s Voice Is in My GPS
My Mother’s Voice Is in My GPS I’d had the new navigation system installed because the old one had started glitching. It was nothing serious—just delays, the occasional frozen screen—but after my mother passed away three months ago, I wanted everything in my life to be as smooth as possible. Grief makes you impatient with little frustrations.
By waseem khanabout a year ago in Horror
The Girl in the Elevator: The Haunting of the Cecil Hotel. Content Warning.
Built in 1924 in the heart of downtown Los Angeles, the Cecil began as a glamorous stop for travelers. Marble floors, gilded fixtures, and a grand lobby that promised prosperity. But over the decades, the dream curdled. The hotel’s location—just blocks from Skid Row—and its reputation for crime and suicide drew the broken, the desperate, and the dangerous. Serial killer Richard Ramirez, the Night Stalker, once called it home. Austrian murderer Jack Unterweger followed years later. By 2013, the Cecil’s name was synonymous with death. And then came the case of Elisa Lam—a mystery that would cement the hotel’s infamy. The Disappearance Elisa Lam, a 21-year-old Canadian student, arrived in Los Angeles on January 26, 2013. She was traveling alone, posting regularly to her Tumblr blog—her entries a blend of personal thoughts, photos, and literary quotes. She checked into the Cecil, initially sharing a hostel-style room. Within days, she was moved to a private room after her roommates complained about her “odd behavior.” On January 31, Elisa failed to call her parents as planned. She missed check-out. She was gone.
By E. hasanabout a year ago in Horror
The Ghost Who Was Bad at Haunting
The legend of the Brambleton Farmhouse was known far and wide. Locals whispered of “The Specter of Room 3”, a pale figure that appeared in the dead of night to frighten intruders into madness.
By Atif khurshaidabout a year ago in Horror
The Mirror in Room 313
Rain lashed against the cracked windows of Hillview Manor as Adeel pulled his jacket tighter, stepping through the front door. The wind howled behind him like a voice trying to say something just out of earshot. The lobby was dim, lit by a single bulb that buzzed faintly, casting long shadows across peeling wallpaper.
By meerjananabout a year ago in Horror
The Last Step
He loved the sound of trains. Tyrus loved trains. Not in the casual way most kids say they do—he lived for them. He could name every model from memory. He copied the sounds so precisely that even my father, a retired conductor, once stopped mid-coffee and said, “That boy has an engine in his chest.”
By Echoes of Lifeabout a year ago in Horror
House No. 450
After I finished preparing dinner, my eyes fell on the clock on the wall as I left the kitchen. Oh, it's so late. I quickly picked up the sheet lying on the sofa in front of me, put it on, and put the house key in my purse and left the house. On the way, the Maghrib call to prayer had begun. The children will say, "Mama forgot to pick us up from tuition today." I thought and walked towards their tuition center with quick steps.
By Echoes of Lifeabout a year ago in Horror
The Loyalty of the Lion King
Deep in the heart of the golden savannah, where the sun kissed the earth and the wind whispered through tall grass, ruled a mighty lion known as Zahir the Lion King. His mane glowed like fire, his roar shook the heavens, and his heart beat with wisdom, courage, and most of all—loyalty.
By Ahmad shahabout a year ago in Horror
“The Girl in the Window”
M Mehran The village of Elmswood was quiet, forgotten, nestled between fog-draped woods and crooked hills. There were no streetlights. The houses were old and leaned into one another like secrets too heavy to carry. But no house was more feared than the red one on Hollow Street — the one with the window on the second floor that always had a little girl staring out. People said she never moved. People said she never aged. People said she was never alive. When Leah moved to Elmswood, she didn’t believe in ghost stories. A fresh graduate from the city, she wanted solitude — the kind found in sleepy towns and untouched nature. She bought the red house for cheap. Too cheap. She didn’t ask why. The villagers watched her unload boxes in silence. No one offered help. No one waved. One old woman muttered something about “the child,” but Leah brushed it off. The first night was uneventful. Cold. Quiet. Just the wind sighing through the gaps in the walls. But on the second night, Leah heard soft tapping. Tap. Tap. Tap. It came from the second-floor window — the one she hadn't opened. She climbed the stairs, heart slow but steady, and saw… nothing. Just her reflection in the glass and the trees swaying in the moonlight. Then she heard it again. Tap. Tap. Tap. This time, it came from behind her. She turned, and the hallway was empty. Leah laughed nervously. “Old houses make noises,” she whispered to herself. But as she turned back to the window, her reflection had changed. There was a girl standing beside her. Hair matted. Eyes wide. Dress soaked and rotting. Leah screamed, spun around — no one there. The girl was gone. The reflection was hers again. In the morning, Leah went into the village to ask questions. The baker went pale at the mention of the house. The librarian simply shook her head. Finally, she cornered the old woman who’d spoken before. “They never told you, did they?” the woman rasped. “That house is cursed. Has been since the river took her.” “Took who?” Leah asked, though her voice felt distant. “Annabelle. The girl who lived there. Drowned at seven. But she came back. Some say she never left. Her parents locked the room. Refused to speak of her. Until they vanished too.” Leah returned home, unsettled but defiant. Ghosts weren’t real. She was tired. Stressed. Seeing things. That night, she bolted the bedroom door and turned on every light. At 3:07 AM, the lights flickered and died. In the silence, Leah heard the floorboards creak. Then came the whisper. “Play with me…” Her breath caught. She clutched her phone, but the screen was black. She looked up. The girl was at the foot of the bed. Wet footprints led from the doorway. Her mouth hung open unnaturally wide. Her eyes — empty pits. “Get out!” Leah shouted, flinging the lamp. It passed through the girl and shattered against the wall. The girl tilted her head. “You’re in my room.” Suddenly, Leah was flung backward. The room grew cold. The walls bled water. The girl moved closer, reaching. Then everything went black. --- When the villagers entered the red house three days later — after noticing no lights, no movement — they found it empty. No sign of Leah. No packed bags. No struggle. Just a single wet handprint on the second-floor window. And a little girl staring out once more.
By M Mehran about a year ago in Horror
👁️‍🗨️ The Doll of Fear
In a real-life psychological horror story, a woman in North Carolina, USA, finds her life turned upside down—not by financial stress, family troubles, or even a medical crisis—but by a doll. And not just any doll, but Chucky, the infamous horror movie icon known for his creepy smile and murderous tendencies. What started as a cruel office prank ended in mental trauma, unemployment, and a lawsuit that has stunned the internet.
By saqib rehmanabout a year ago in Horror
Season 5 - EMILY ROAN : The Nomen Child
Chapter 15: Echo Burial Location: Sablepine Grove - Hidden Sect Grounds, 4 miles southeast of Tallowridge Date: November 27, 1985
By Tales That Breathe at Nightabout a year ago in Horror
The Foster House Whispers
The Foster House Whispers Grief takes many forms, but none as terrifying as hope twisted into obsession. My best friend used to be terrified of horror films. Even a paper cut in a movie could send her turning away, mumbling how she couldn’t watch. But something changed over the years. These days, she’s the one dragging me into dimly lit theaters, whispering, “Let’s see if this one leaves a mark.”
By Saeed Ullah about a year ago in Horror