halloween
Get into the Halloween spirit; all about trick or treating, spooky costumes, Halloween decorations and haunted houses for October 31st and all year round.
"She Still Texts from the Grave" –
The first text came during her funeral. It buzzed against my thigh like a rude, mechanical whisper amid the preacher’s eulogy. I glanced down at my phone, fully prepared to silence it—until I saw the name. Emily. My girlfriend. Deceased. Buried, at that moment, six feet beneath our feet. The message simply read: “Why aren’t you answering?” At first, I thought it was some cruel trick—a hacker, maybe, or some weird phone glitch. I didn’t even tell anyone. How could I? “Hey, my dead girlfriend just texted me,” isn’t something you drop into casual conversation while people are crying over her casket. I kept staring at the screen until my cousin nudged me. “Dude, it’s your turn to speak.” I stumbled up, eyes still flicking back to the message. Emily’s voice echoed in my head, sarcastic and amused. “You better not make me sound boring, Ryan.” I managed a short, clumsy tribute. Said the right things. Left out the part where the dead were now digitally haunting me. Later that night, alone in my apartment, I opened our old chat thread. The message was still there. Blue bubble. No glitch. No error. “Why aren’t you answering?” I typed back: “Emily…?” Three blinking dots appeared. I swear my heart stopped. “It’s cold down here.” The phone slipped from my hand. I let it lie face-down on the floor while my mind raced for a logical explanation. Ghosts don’t text. People don’t claw their way back through 5G networks. I remembered her phone had been buried with her—she wanted it, even joked that she'd be texting me from the afterlife. Now I wasn’t laughing. The next few days blurred. More messages followed—always short, always chilling. “It’s dark.” “I miss the light.” “Why did you let them close the lid?” I didn’t reply after that. I couldn’t. Then came the audio file. It appeared randomly in our chat one night around 2:17 a.m. No sender, no description. Just a waveform icon and the message: “Listen.” My thumb hovered over it for a full five minutes. Finally, I pressed play. A soft rustling, like fabric against wood. Faint breathing. A whisper: “Ryan…” Then scratching. Hard, desperate scraping. Something hollow thudding again and again, like fists against wood. I threw the phone across the room. But it didn’t stop there. My lights began flickering. The sound of scratching echoed through the walls, even when my phone was off. My TV turned on by itself—static, then black, then her face for a split second, mouth open like she was screaming silently. One night, I went to the cemetery. Needed to see for myself. Her grave looked undisturbed—but as I knelt beside it, my phone buzzed again. “I can hear you. Don’t leave me.” I dropped the phone and backed away. My breath clouded in the summer night air, the sudden cold impossible to explain. A sound rose beneath the ground—a muffled moan, like someone trying to scream with soil in their mouth. I ran. Days turned into a torment. Sleep became impossible. I saw her face in reflections—in my coffee, in car windows, even in puddles. Always looking up. Always staring. I tried deleting the messages. They came back. I tried destroying the phone. Bought a new one. The texts resumed the next day. Then, I remembered something Emily had said once, during one of our late-night talks, lying on the couch. “If I ever die, and you ghost me, I swear I’ll haunt your ass. Love doesn’t just disappear, you know?” I thought she was joking. Now, I wasn’t so sure. I contacted a psychic. She told me to visit the grave one last time and speak aloud the truth I’d never said while she was alive. So I went. Night again. Same cold creeping in. I stood at her headstone and whispered, “I’m sorry. I loved you, but I was going to break up with you. I didn’t want to lie anymore. I should’ve told you. I’m sorry, Em. I’m so sorry.” Silence. No texts came that night. Or the next. Or the next. I thought it was over. Until this morning. I woke up to a new message. This one different. “I know. But now… you’re mine.” Then my phone died completely—battery fully charged, just gone black. Lights out. No signal. That was three hours ago. Now, there’s scratching inside my walls again. And the mirrors? She’s not just staring anymore. She’s smiling.
By Top stories about a year ago in Horror
A real indicant horror story my mother and me part 1
A long time ago, when I was a child, I was only 10 years old. I loved to roam around. One day, at six o'clock in the evening, I was passing under a palm tree. Suddenly, a branch of a tree fell in front of me. I couldn't understand where it came from. I thought to myself, "If there's a palm tree above, then where did such a big plum tree branch come from?" It was a strange thing. I was very worried. Then I walked home. As I walked, it was seven o'clock in the evening. After I went home, my mother gave me food. Come and eat rice. My mother was shaking and calling me. It's night. Don't you want to eat rice? I said, "Yes, mother, I'm coming to eat." She was very hungry. When I fell asleep, the real incident happened.My mother called me in the same voice as her, "Hey, hey, wake up, why did you disturb me?" Then I jumped up with such a thick voice and looked around. I saw that no one was there except my mother. I was very scared that night. I called my mother. "Hey, mother, wake up, I'm very scared. Look who's calling me." She didn't think about it. "It's 3 o'clock in the morning. Who's calling you after sleeping so late at night? I'll see you in the morning." I also fell asleep like that. Three days passed. Four days later, at 2:50 am, I went to the bathroom. I saw a man. I've never seen anything like this in my life. He looked so scary and hideous. You can't even imagine how scary it was. I immediately became scared. After a while, my mother found me lying on the table in a state of shock. My mother took me to bed. The next day, a man saw me. He saw me and said, "Oh, he's alive today, he's a real man." Blindfolded
By Ayana akhiabout a year ago in Horror
The Haunted House on Maple Street
At the far end of Maple Street, hidden beneath a canopy of gnarled oaks and shrouded in endless mist, sits a house that no one dares to approach. Its walls, once painted bright white, are now a graveyard of peeling paint and creeping vines. The broken windows leer like empty eyes, and the iron gate swings wildly even on still nights, groaning under the weight of its secrets. For as long as anyone can remember, the house has been abandoned — or so people hope. The stories began decades ago, when the Wren family moved in. Thomas and Evelyn Wren, a happy couple with their two young children, Lucy and Ben, were new to town. In the beginning, they mostly kept to themselves, but neighbors frequently heard laughter coming from their windows that were open. Then came the night of the storm.
By SilentWingsabout a year ago in Horror
The Haunted Curve. Content Warning.
"Deadly Curve, Ghosts of Husband and Wife Who Died Violently" Crying from the Curve An old wooden house is located near a sharp curve outside the village. No one dares to stay near that point after the sun sets because everyone in the neighborhood has told each other that... The cries of a pregnant woman and the sound of a man groaning in pain still ring out every night without a source.
By Rohitha Lankaabout a year ago in Horror
The Lake Bodom Mystery: A Camping Trip Turned Nightmare
Picture this: it’s June 4, 1960, and a teenage girl named Maija clambers off the back of her boyfriend’s motorcycle, her heart buzzing with the thrill of adventure. The wind’s still whipping through her hair as she takes in the shimmering lake before her, nestled like a secret in the heart of a Finnish forest. She’s 15, about to turn 16, and this camping trip with her boyfriend Nils, his best friend Seppo, and Seppo’s girlfriend Anja feels like the perfect way to celebrate. The sun’s high, the lake’s alive with boaters and swimmers, and yet… there’s this quiet magic to the place, like it’s just theirs. Ever had one of those moments where everything feels just right? That’s where Maija was, standing on the edge of something beautiful.
By KWAO LEARNER WINFREDabout a year ago in Horror
Campfire Chills: Four Haunting Camping Stories That’ll Keep You Up at Night
You know that feeling when you’re sitting around a campfire, the flames flickering, casting shadows that dance just a little too wildly on the trees? It’s quiet, except for the crackle of the fire and maybe a distant owl. Then someone starts telling a story-one that makes your skin prickle and your ears strain for sounds in the dark. That’s what I’m bringing you today. Four stories, all true or so they say, about camping trips that turned into nightmares. These aren’t just spooky tales; they’re the kind that make you second-guess that solo hike you’ve been planning. Ready? Let’s dive in.
By KWAO LEARNER WINFREDabout a year ago in Horror
The Sad, Sad Meaning Behind The Phantasm Series
I’m just going to put this out there, I don’t think the Phantasm series has any real message or meaning. We are talking about a franchise that spawned from a film that was supposed to be a one-off. Writer and director Don Coscarelli has stated numerous times that he initially wasn’t interested in making a sequel to the 1979 film.
By Luke Duffyabout a year ago in Horror
The Housemaid
The Housemaid by Frieda McFadden: A Gripping Psychological Thriller You Can’t Put Down The Housemaid by Frieda McFadden is a captivating psychological thriller that will have readers on the edge of their seats from start to finish. With its unforgettable characters, unexpected twists, and a plot full of suspense, this book is perfect for fans of dark mysteries and psychological drama. Millie, the main character, finds herself in a dire situation, desperate for a fresh start. She’s a woman with a troubled past, struggling to find her place in the world. But what begins as a simple job quickly spirals into a nightmare filled with lies, betrayal, and shocking secrets.
By Muhammad Hayatabout a year ago in Horror
The Abnormal House
A crumbling mansion perched atop the hill like a menacing watchtower had always stood out from the others in the small town of Hollowbrook for as long as anyone could remember. It was the kind of place children dared each other to approach, the subject of hushed whispers between adults, the one that everyone steered clear of. However, the stories about the house had become increasingly bizarre and unsettling over time. The Abnormal Horror House was its name. Not only was it haunted, but It was far worse than that, in fact. Rumors spread that the house itself had a mind of its own, a soul that fed on the fear of anyone who dared enter.
By MD Tawfique Islamabout a year ago in Horror
The Sound in the Walls: An Apartment Nightmare . Content Warning.
It started subtly enough. A faint scratching sound, like a mouse perhaps, coming from inside the walls of my new apartment. I'd just moved to the city, eager for a fresh start, and the old building, with its cheap rent and quirky charm, seemed perfect. The scratching, though, was a minor annoyance, easily dismissed.
By sajid hasan about a year ago in Horror
