monster
Monsters and horror go hand in hand; explore horrific creatures, beasts and hairy scaries like Freddy Krueger, Frankenstein and far beyond.
Digesting Darkness
The first time I ate someone's sorrow, it was by mistake. My aunt had died. At the funeral, my cousin wouldn't cease crying. She gripped her mother's wedding ring so tightly in her fist the knuckles went white. When she hugged me, she pressed the ring into my palm.
By MD NAZIM UDDIN about a year ago in Horror
The Alley of Forgotten Whispers
The rain had just stopped. The stones beneath Mira’s boots were slick, reflecting the dim orange glow of lanterns strung overhead. Narrow walls flanked her on either side, weathered bricks whispering stories she couldn’t yet hear. The alley was deserted, save for a rusting bicycle leaning casually against the wall—abandoned, yet oddly full of life.
By Muhammad Sabeelabout a year ago in Horror
Mouths Full of Rain: How I Accidentally Started a Frog Cult
I didn't mean to create a frog cult. It started with just one. His name was Cletus, named after a guy my dad used to buy pills from. Seemed fitting—sleazy and stubborn, like something that'd survive the apocalypse by digging itself into a crawlspace and scraping mold off copper pipes with its tongue.
By MD NAZIM UDDIN about a year ago in Horror
When Summer Turns Terrifying: Meet the Experts Who Faced Real Horror
Summer — to most, it means sun, long days, and fun made by the water. But beneath the warmth and light lies a sinister undertow of real horror that only appears at the height of summer. So this summer, we decided to dig deeper and find out what real horror is like when the sun shines brightest and nights are still.
By MD NAZIM UDDIN about a year ago in Horror
Whispering Pines
Part 1: The Arrival There were seven of us—friends since college—craving adventure and escape from the noise of our busy lives. The mountains were calling, and we answered, planning a full week in the wilderness. We packed tents, food, torches, and spirits high with excitement. The first two days were pure bliss: laughter by the bonfire, warm cups of tea, and storytelling under a sky full of stars. On the third evening, things shifted. Dark clouds rolled in suddenly, as if summoned. Lightning cracked so close it made our bones rattle. Wind roared like a beast. Our tents tore away, spinning into the black sky like leaves. Rain hit us sideways. Chaos swallowed us whole. We grabbed each other, shouting through the storm. But the wind was stronger. It pulled us apart. I was thrown hard. When I woke, I was lying near a dense forest, soaked, shivering. Only Saddam lay beside me, groaning. The others—Zaid, Talha, Bilal, Hamza, Danish—were gone. --- Part 2: The Forest We yelled their names. Only silence replied. Saddam and I decided to find shelter. The forest ahead was thick, its trees twisted like they had grown in pain. Stepping inside was like entering another world—no birds, no wind. Just the sound of our wet shoes sinking into the mud. Soon, we heard it. Whispers. Like voices behind a thin wall. We turned. No one. The whispers grew louder but made no sense. Words without form. Sounds that crawled into our ears. Then, we saw it: a wooden cabin wrapped in vines. Its roof sagged, its windows fogged. But somehow, it stood strong against the storm. The door opened slowly as we approached, creaking like a scream held too long. --- Part 3: The Cabin Inside, the air was freezing, heavier than outside. Our flashlight flickered. Cobwebs clung to old furniture. A portrait hung crooked on the wall—a family of five, all smiling with eyes scratched out. We lit a small fire and tried to dry off. Saddam dozed off. I sat, listening. The whispers returned. But now, they were inside the cabin. Footsteps above us. Then, on the porch. Then… the door creaked again. I blinked. Saddam was gone. His sleeping bag was still warm. I screamed his name. Ran outside. Fog had swallowed the forest. From the trees, a shape emerged. A man… Saddam? No. His eyes were pitch black, his smile stretched unnaturally wide. “You shouldn’t have come,” he whispered, voice like dead leaves. I backed away. He vanished. --- Part 4: The Lost Ones I wandered through the forest, calling for the others. Echoes returned, but twisted—mocking versions of their voices. I found Zaid, standing completely still, eyes closed. I ran to him. “Zaid!” I shook his shoulder. He opened his eyes. “Too late,” he whispered. “The forest owns us now.” His skin cracked like dry bark. He crumbled into a pile of leaves. I screamed. The forest pulsed. It was alive. Not metaphorically—truly. Every tree was watching. Every root whispered. We hadn’t wandered in. We had been invited. Chosen. And it wasn’t done with me yet. --- Part 5: The Loop Every path I took led me back to the same fallen log. My flashlight dimmed. My watch stopped. There was no night or day. Just grey. I found a tree carved with names—ours. Beneath mine: “Not yet.” Suddenly, I saw Danish. He was climbing a tree silently. “Danish!” I yelled. He looked down. “Don’t speak. It hears you.” “What is it?” He pointed at the sky. “It used to be a god. Now it’s hungry.” Then he vanished into the leaves, like he was never there. I was breaking. My memories faded. My name felt strange on my tongue. --- Part 6: The Exit On what I believed to be the seventh day, I saw a narrow trail lined with white stones. They glowed faintly, like moonlight trapped in rock. I followed, numb and trembling. Suddenly, I was back on a road. A truck stopped. A man helped me inside. I tried to speak. Nothing came out. --- Part 7: Home? Now, weeks later, I sit in my room, writing this. No one believes me. The others were never found. Sometimes I see them in reflections. Sometimes I hear them calling me from the trees behind my house, though there are no forests nearby. Last night, my mirror fogged up on its own. In it, I saw Saddam. He smiled. “You never left.” And behind me, I heard the cabin door creak open again.
By Noman Afridiabout a year ago in Horror
Hobtown Mystery Stories: The Case of the Missing Men
In the quaint town of Hobtown, known for its charming streets and cozy homes, there was an air of mystery that both fascinated and frightened its residents. One foggy autumn evening, the townsfolk noticed that several men had gone missing without a trace. First, it was the charismatic schoolteacher, Mr. Thompson; then the beloved baker, Mr. Jenkins; followed by the town's mechanic, Jake. Each disappearance left behind only whispers and unanswered questions, deepening the unsettling atmosphere that enveloped Hobtown.
By Ayesha Harunaabout a year ago in Horror
I Found a USB Stuck in the Gas Station Bathroom Wall. I Shouldn't Have Plugged It In.. Content Warning.
A thriller-horror story told as nonfiction. After plugging in this mysterious USB, the narrator finds weird files that seem to be prophecying deaths—including their own. Some secrets want to be found. Others want to bury you.
By kevin ibrahimabout a year ago in Horror
Morbius (2022): A Vampire Flick That Missed the Mark
🧬 Introduction: The Premise Morbius introduces us to Dr. Michael Morbius (Jared Leto), a brilliant scientist suffering from a rare blood disorder. In a desperate attempt to cure himself, he experiments with bat DNA, inadvertently transforming into a vampire-like creature with superhuman abilities and an insatiable thirst for blood. Directed by Daniel Espinosa, the film aims to blend horror elements with superhero tropes, expanding Sony's Spider-Man Universe.
By Kevin Hudsonabout a year ago in Horror
Madame Web (2024): The Web That Failed to Connect
Introduction: In a cinematic universe teeming with superheroes, multiverses, and time travel, Madame Web (2024) was Marvel and Sony’s attempt to weave something new into the Spider-Man franchise. Featuring Dakota Johnson in a mysterious, clairvoyant role, the film promised intrigue, suspense, and a bold new chapter for female-led superhero stories. But with overwhelmingly negative reviews and a meme storm flooding the internet, one has to ask: Is Madame Web really that terrible — or is there a misunderstood web underneath?
By Kevin Hudsonabout a year ago in Horror
The Last Night of the Manor House
Story Name: The Last Night of the Manor House Author's name: Sabina Islam. My name is Shamsher Sen... I am a history teacher by profession, but my hobby is a little different—I love chasing abandoned, unknown history and lost landlord families. The time of this incident was December 2022. Winter was at its peak, and I moved to a remote village in North Bengal—Chardurantapur. The history of this village is not in books, but the local people have oral stories—a terrible landlord family, whose bloody past is still spread in the air. As soon as I got off the train, the station covered in fog felt like a ghost kingdom. The name of the station was Daryapur Hat, from there you have to walk 8 kilometers to Chardurantapur village. As soon as I entered the village, I noticed one thing—everyone was leaving with their eyes downcast. As soon as I mentioned the 'Manor House', an old man shook his head silently and said: "Don't go there, Babu... Going there on a winter night means death. The last time a group of young researchers went there... All three of them died... I couldn't even understand how anyone died..." I laughed. As an urbanite, I don't believe these folk tales. But today I realized that I was wrong. Today I faced a truth that I never imagined..!
By Sabina Islamabout a year ago in Horror
