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The Final Traveler of Course 79
🎙️ "The Final Traveler of Course 79" In a calm city, there's a night transport. Course 79. It clears out each night at precisely 11:
By Siyam Islam2 years ago in Horror
The Night Food Floated onto The AIR:A Real possession Story. Content Warning.
This story occurred in Khulna about five years ago. It was a strange and scary thing that my family and I will never forget. One night, we saw a little girl crying on the side of the road. She was about 8 years old. Her name was Tara. She looked very tired and weak. She said she hadn't eaten in two or three days. She came from a nearby village and had no accommodation.
By Joyprokash Roy2 years ago in Horror
Between Sacred Stones and Silent Screams: The Haunted Soul of Wat Sisaket
The Ghostly Past of Wat Sisaket: Lao's Spiritual Mystery Deep in the center of Vientiane, Wat Sisaket is a legacy to Laos' violent past and spiritual heritage. Built in 1818 on the orders of King Anouvong (Sethathirath V), this temple is the oldest surviving Buddhist structure in the capital, having escaped destruction by a hair's breadth during the Siamese invasion of 1827. Its unusual Siamese-influenced design—featuring a five-tiered roof and a cloistered courtyard—likely spared it the same fate as neighboring temples, which were reduced to rubble. It is today revered not only for its history but also for its notoriety as one of the most haunted locations in Laos, where the specters of the past whisper along its dimly lit passages.
By Kyrol Mojikal2 years ago in Horror
Mysterious Red Sari Spirit & Haunted Tamarind Tree
The incident happened with his elder uncle, but at the request of Tapas Bhai, we are keeping his elder uncle’s name confidential. The time frame of this incident was around 1994 or 1995. During that period, the Bila (wetland) would have a lot of water in the rainy season. One day, Tapas Bhai’s uncle brought a kind of item made from palm leaves, called “Kunda” in the village language. He had gone to cut grass and also to collect Kachuri leaves and similar things for the cows’ feed. While bringing back those things for feeding the cows, there is a place near Baktarpur Bila. This place is, well, how should I put it, an area with trees, a homestead-like place. There stands a Hijal tree there. When his uncle was returning, he sat down under that Hijal tree to rest for a while. While resting absentmindedly, he broke a branch off that Hijal tree. After resting, he normally returned home. Once home, he fed the cows the grass and Kachuri leaves he had collected. Everything seemed fine, but that very night, the uncle suddenly started acting mad. He began speaking incoherently, did not want to stay indoors, and left the house. He scolded his family members and spoke nonsense to everyone. No one was able to hold him back—one person alone couldn’t restrain him, and even many together could not. He left the house. The uncle felt as if something had possessed or affected him in a bad way. When that negative force acted upon him, he felt as if someone was sitting on him, his chest became heavy, and it felt like a heavy stone was placed on his chest. He could hardly speak properly. This problem lasted similarly for about five to six days and then went away. He became completely normal, and everything—his words, behavior, and actions—were perfectly fine. About a month after this incident, the problem started again. One day, suddenly, the uncle couldn’t be found anywhere. No one could find him, and everyone started searching all around for him.
By Lily2 years ago in Horror
Traveler of the Frequented Prepare
The year was 1993. Inside the calm northern town of Lalmonirhat, Bangladesh—then untouched by modernity—nights fell into significant quiet. After nightfall, the town turned into a ghost of itself. It was in the midst of one such spooky night that something truly chilling happened, a story still whispered by the seniors with unease in their eyes.
By Siyam Islam2 years ago in Horror
She's Still Waiting. Content Warning.
''She is still waiting… at the end of the rice field'' At the end of a vast rice field in a remote village, there was a large old tree standing alone amidst the silence. Under its shade was once a shelter for a young woman named ''Buapan'' whose husband named ''Ai Plan'' was conscripted into the army when the country was torn apart during the war between the nations.
By Rohitha Lanka2 years ago in Horror
Mysterious story of ghost wells | Real Horror Story . AI-Generated.
"Kusumpur", a small village in Rajasthan, had a very old well, which was deserted for years. People used to say that this well is cursed. No one goes to that well at night, because there are strange sounds from there. Sometimes a woman's scream, sometimes a child's groan. The elders of the village believed that this well had become the abode of a soul. But who was this soul and why in that well, very few people knew this story. , A sad past About 70 years ago, a woman lived in this village - her name was "Chanda". Chanda was a newly married and gave birth to a son a few months ago. One day she went to fill water on the well with her newborn. At the same time a mad man from the village came there. He was mentally unstable and suddenly got angry seeing the child. He snatched the child from Chanda's hand and threw it into the well. Chanda tried to save her by screaming, but she herself fell into the well. After that day neither the donation nor his child was found. , Conscience of well People say that from that day onwards, the sounds of crying, screaming and groaning started coming from that well. Some boys of the village dared to try to go to the well at night, but they fainted in fear. The villagers tried to close the well, but every time something strangely declined. The stones standing near the well would slip on their own, the flashlight would stop and people would start falling ill. , New family, new beginning In 2023, a new family - Rahul, his wife Suman and his six -year -old son Aditya came from the city and settled in this village. He found a beautiful but cheap house on the banks of the village. The same ghostly well was behind the same house. The villagers cautioned him, but Rahul deferred these things as superstition. , First untoward Strange incidents started in a few days. Aditya would often get up scared and say, "Papa, an aunt calls me ... says, my children, come to me." Suman also heard the cry of a woman who was coming from the direction of the well one night. Now Rahul also started to believe that something is definitely wrong. , Facing the mystery of the well Rahul dared one night and went to the well with the camera, a flashlight. As soon as he peeped in the well, a woman's shadow was seen below. She had a child in her lap and she was repeatedly saying, "Return me my child." Suddenly the camera stopped, the flashlight fell and Rahul fainted. , Help of tantric The next day the villagers called a tantric. The tantric investigated and told that Chanda's soul is still wandering in search of her child. The soul is tied to the well and until it finds peace, these incidents will continue. After the puja and havan, the tantric spoke to the soul and explained to him that his child would now be in some other birth. The soul slowly bid farewell and the well was sealed with iron bars. , Peace ... but incomplete Rahul's family left the village and left. Now those incidents in the village have reduced, but some villagers still say that on rainy nights, sometimes there is a cry of a child from a well. Did Chanda's soul really become free? Or is he still looking for his son? This secret is still unresolved. FAQs – The Haunted Well Horror Story 1. Q: Is this haunted well story based on real events? A: Yes, the story is inspired by real paranormal experiences reported by villagers in Rajasthan. 2. Q: Where is the haunted well located in the story? A: The well is located in a fictional village named Kusumpur in Rajasthan, India. 3. Q: Who is the spirit haunting the well? A: The spirit is of a woman named Chanda, who died tragically along with her infant child. 4. Q: Why did Chanda's spirit become restless? A: Her soul couldn’t find peace after her child was thrown into the well and both of them died in a tragic accident. 5. Q: What type of paranormal activities are described in the story? A: Crying voices at night, ghostly visions, strange noises, electrical disturbances, and fainting incidents are described. 6. Q: Did anyone try to solve the mystery of the haunted well? A: Yes, a local tantrik (occultist) was brought in to communicate with the spirit and perform rituals for peace. 7. Q: What happened to the new family who moved near the well? A: They experienced intense paranormal activities and eventually had to leave the village for their safety. 8. Q: Is the well still considered haunted in the story? A: Although the well has been sealed, some villagers still claim to hear cries during rainy nights. 9. Q: What is the message behind the story? A: The story reflects on the trauma of untimely death, the bond between mother and child, and unresolved spirits.
By Horror best kahani2 years ago in Horror
The Mirror in the Tower
No one really knows when the tower first appeared in Corwell. Some say it was always there, a part of the land before the town even had a name. Others believe it rose overnight, summoned by forgotten whispers and buried sins. But what everyone agrees on is this: the bell tower has never rung. Not once. Not in anyone’s memory. And after sunset, no one dares speak its name aloud. Corwell is the kind of town that time forgot—tucked away at the edge of thick woods, population barely scratching three hundred. Most homes are cracked with age, their wooden bones creaking under the weight of silence. A few families remain, too old to leave or too stubborn to care. But they all share a quiet fear, and it always points to the tower. Eleanor Rowe arrived on a drizzly Thursday. A curious young historian from the city, she was drawn to forgotten towns and their half-remembered myths. Corwell, with its eerie charm and lack of digital footprint, seemed perfect. She stayed at the only inn—an aging structure run by a widow who rarely spoke unless asked twice. At the local library, Eleanor sifted through dusty records, yellowed newspapers, and brittle pages of forgotten journals. She found references to the town’s founding, to its brief mining boom, even to a flood that nearly wiped it out in 1912. But not a single line about the bell tower. No sketches, no mentions, no photographs. Nothing. Naturally, this made her obsession grow. When she asked the librarian, a frail man with trembling hands, about the tower, he went still. Then, in a voice low enough to barely hear, he said, “You don’t go near it. Not after dusk. It remembers.” That was all. That night, Eleanor couldn’t sleep. Her thoughts spun in feverish loops. She’d seen the top of the tower from afar—its sharp silhouette rising beyond the trees, a jagged tooth in the sky. It called to her in a way she couldn’t explain. At precisely 3:14 AM, under a pale crescent moon, she grabbed her notebook, flashlight, and an old Nikon camera. Wrapping herself in a wool coat, she slipped past the sleeping town and into the woods. The path was wild, overgrown, and silent. Trees stood like sentinels, their branches clawing the sky. It took nearly an hour, but eventually, the trees parted. There it was. The bell tower stood tall and lonely, nearly seventy feet of blackened stone. Time had not been kind to it—ivy strangled the walls, the bricks chipped and crumbling. There was no door, only a shattered archway leading into shadow. Inside, the air was thick and cold, heavy with stillness. Eleanor’s footsteps echoed unnaturally loud. Dust danced in the flashlight’s beam like drifting spirits. She began to climb. The spiral staircase was narrow and steep. She counted each step out of habit: 23… 57… 104… 138… 154… Too many steps. Far more than the tower’s height could hold. The air grew thinner, colder. Her flashlight flickered once. Finally, she reached the top. But there was no bell. Just an old, tall mirror standing alone in the center. It was beautiful in an unsettling way. The frame was carved black wood, aged but untouched by dust. And the glass… it shimmered strangely, like it wasn’t entirely solid. Eleanor approached, camera raised. She snapped a photo, but the flash revealed something odd. Her reflection wasn’t in sync. It blinked a moment late. Tilted its head the wrong way. And then… it smiled. She hadn’t. Heart pounding, she stepped back. But the mirror rippled—like a disturbed pond. Her reflection stepped forward. Same face. Same coat. But the eyes—black, endless, void. Before Eleanor could run, the thing lunged and shoved her. She fell. Down, endlessly down—but she never hit the ground. Instead, she awoke in a place that looked like the tower… but wasn’t. The light was dim, colors dulled, sound muted. And the mirror… now stood behind her. She screamed. Pounded on the glass. But outside, the reflection—now wearing her skin—just smiled, turned, and left. The next morning, “Eleanor” was seen in town. Smiling. Calm. She packed her bags, thanked the innkeeper, and caught the morning bus. But she never made it home. No calls. No emails. Her apartment remained untouched. And in Corwell, the tower stands quiet still. But sometimes, when the wind dies and the trees go still, locals say they hear a single bell chime. Just once. No one knows who hears it next. No one wants to find out.
By Towsin2 years ago in Horror
Varosha: The Ghost Town of Cyprus – Haunted by the Shadows of War
The Spookiest Ghost Town in the World: The Haunted History of Varosha, Cyprus Varosha, which was once a booming resort town in Famagusta, Cyprus, is now the spookiest and emptiest place on earth. Evacuated in 1974 when the Turkish army invaded Cyprus, this ghost town has remained stuck in time for almost 50 years, its decaying streets and devastated buildings bearing witness to tragedy, loss, and lost spirits.
By Kyrol Mojikal2 years ago in Horror
The Last Message in Room 304. Content Warning. AI-Generated.
Part 1: The Return It had been two years since Jamie left the motel. Two years since Lily vanished, since the message on the mirror, and since the cold silence swallowed the hallway outside Room 304.
By The 1%2 years ago in Horror
The Man Who Watched Me Sleep
I always believed I was a heavy sleeper — the type who could snooze through thunderstorms or loud city traffic. That belief changed last winter, in a quiet, snow-covered village where I had gone to escape the chaos of city life. I rented a small wooden cabin in a secluded part of northern Vermont. No neighbors. No internet. Just a fireplace, a stack of books, and endless silence. It was perfect — or so I thought. On my second night there, I woke up suddenly at around 3:17 a.m. My heart was racing, though I couldn’t understand why. There was no sound. No storm. No reason. But something didn’t feel right. It felt like I wasn’t alone. Brushing it off as paranoia, I turned over and tried to fall back asleep. But before I could close my eyes, I felt a distinct chill. Not the kind that comes from cold air, but the kind that crawls down your spine. And then… I heard it. A faint creak. It was soft, like someone stepping carefully on old wooden floorboards. I held my breath, straining my ears. Another creak — closer this time. I wanted to believe it was the cabin settling, or perhaps a wild animal outside. But it wasn’t. I could feel the presence now. Someone — or something — was in the cabin with me. I slowly reached for the flashlight on my bedside table, but it wasn’t there. Strange — I always kept it there. My phone was dead too; I had forgotten to charge it. Cursing silently, I sat up in bed, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness. That’s when I saw it. A tall, shadowy figure was standing at the foot of my bed. Perfectly still. Not moving. Not breathing. Just… watching me. My body froze. I wanted to scream, to run, to do anything, but I was paralyzed. We stared at each other in complete silence. After what felt like hours, the figure slowly turned and walked toward the door. It didn’t open the door. It simply faded into the darkness. When morning came, I convinced myself it was a dream. A vivid, terrifying dream caused by isolation and cold. I packed my bags, ready to leave — but something stopped me. On the wooden floor near the foot of the bed, there were footprints. Large, muddy, and human. I hadn’t stepped there. No one else had access to the cabin. I checked the door — locked. The windows — sealed. Still, those prints were real. I took a photo with my now-charged phone and left immediately. But the story doesn’t end there. Back home in the city, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched. At night, I heard soft breathing near my bed. My dog growled at empty corners. I started waking up at exactly 3:17 a.m. — every night. One night, I decided to set up a motion-triggered camera facing my bed. I needed proof that I was either losing my mind — or that something had followed me back. The next morning, I checked the footage. At exactly 3:17 a.m., the camera detected motion. The room was pitch black, but the infrared captured everything. There it was. The same figure. Tall. Still. Standing over my bed. Watching me sleep. But the worst part wasn’t the figure. It was me. I was smiling in my sleep. A wide, unnatural smile. One I never remembered making. One that didn’t look like it belonged to me at all. I moved out of my apartment that day. Burned the mattress. Threw away the camera. I’ve tried to forget, tried to move on. But every night, no matter where I sleep, I wake up at 3:17 a.m. And sometimes, just sometimes… I catch a glimpse of someone disappearing into the shadows. Still watching. Still smiling.
By Towsin2 years ago in Horror
One Black Window – Episode 1: Behind the Window
"One Black Window - Episode 1: Behind the window was a dark rainy night when Mr. Raihan arrived at Danmondy's new rental house. At the end of the narrow alley, the house was quietly old, with two-storey buildings with cracked yellow walls, rusty iron grills and intense silence that seemed to take a breath. It not only stayed, it was like silence.
By Md masum2 years ago in Horror