monster
Monsters and horror go hand in hand; explore horrific creatures, beasts and hairy scaries like Freddy Krueger, Frankenstein and far beyond.
The Knocking
**The Knocking** It started with a soft knock. At first, she had thought it was the house settling—an old, creaking house out on the outskirts of town. The kind of house where shadows stretched too far and the floor groaned beneath secret weight. She had inherited it from her grandmother, a woman who died whispering warnings that no one heard.
By Md Nurul Imam Babu2 years ago in Horror
The Reflection.. AI-Generated.
Jason never liked the mirror in his grandmother’s house. It stood in the upstairs hallway, an ornate, floor-length monstrosity with a golden frame that twisted like creeping vines. The glass always seemed too clear, like a pool of still water before a storm. It had been there for as long as he could remember, an unblinking eye in the otherwise warm house.
By Alex Ariya2 years ago in Horror
The Passenger. AI-Generated.
Daniel hated driving at night, but the storm had left him no choice. The rain hammered against his windshield, the wipers struggling against the relentless downpour. The empty highway stretched ahead, shrouded in darkness, the occasional pair of headlights flashing past, momentary ghosts in the storm.
By Alex Ariya2 years ago in Horror
The House That Remembers - Part 1
The house had stood for over a century, watching the world shift and evolve around it. Deep in the countryside, nestled between twisted oak trees and whispering willows, it witnessed a multitude of stories—of love, loss, joy, and sorrow. Some claimed the house had a memory, a spirit stamped upon its foundations. Others claimed it only held the echoes of the past, reliving them for those courageous enough to listen.
By Alak Haques2 years ago in Horror
The Silent Echo of Uncle Rambanda
Andonawa A true story As soon as I got home from work, I heard that Uncle Rambanda had fallen from a tree while he was mowing the lawn in the evening. Somehow, no one had seen him for hours. Since Uncle was late, my aunt had gone to look for him. Then she saw Uncle Rambanda lying at the base of the Kitul tree. When she looked closer, her head had split in two. He had hit his head on the rock at the base of the tree.
By Rohitha Lanka2 years ago in Horror
Dawn of the Grizzly
The air hung heavy with the sweet scent of pine and damp earth, a cool, almost ethereal mist clinging to the slopes of the mountain. Dawn painted the eastern sky in strokes of soft apricot and rose hinting at touches of canary, a breathtaking spectacle mirrored in the dew-kissed leaves of the aspen trees. Their foliage, still trembling slightly from the night's chill, shimmered like a thousand tiny mirrors, catching and scattering the first rays of sunlight. The world hushed, a symphony of quiet whispers- the rustle of unseen creatures in the undergrowth, the distant chirp of a bird, the soft sigh of the wind weaving through the tall, slender trunks of the aspens.
By Dreadful.herbalist 2 years ago in Horror
Whispers Behind the Door
The dim glow of the evening light seeped through the curtains, casting eerie shadows along the walls. The house was quiet, except for the faint creaking of the wooden floor beneath their feet. “Is she behind the door? Isn’t she?” the daughter asked, her voice trembling. Her mother, sitting beside her, shook her head. “No, Mom, she isn’t behind the door. It was just your imagination. Please, come back to reality.” But the grandmother wasn’t convinced. Her old, wrinkled hands clutched the edge of her chair, her eyes fixed on the slightly ajar door. Didn’t lie,” the daughter whispered, barely audible. “Focus on the door. Look at it carefully-someone is behind it.” The room fell silent. Even the air felt heavier, pressing down on them. The grandmother hesitated, her gaze flickering between her daughter and the door. “Who, Mom? Don’t see anything,” she finally murmured. And then- The door slammed shut. A sharp gasp escaped both women as their hearts pounded in their chests. The grandmother gripped her daughter’s hand tightly, her nails digging into her skin. From behind the door came a sound-a giggle. A child’s laughter, high-pitched and unsettling. Slowly, the door creaked open again, revealing a small figure standing in the shadows. A little girl. She wore a tattered white dress, her Iong, unkempt hair cascading down her pale face. Her lips curled into a wide, unnatural smile as she tilted her head. The grandmother’s eyes widened in horror. “N. this can’t be.” The child stepped forward, her bare feet making no sound against the cold floor. Her empty eyes locked onto them, filled with something neither of them could understand. Malice? Sadness? The daughter felt her breath hitch in her throat as the little girl finally spoke. “Are you happy, Mom?” The words echoed in the silence, chilling them to their bones. The grandmother clutched her chest, her face draining of all color. This wasn’t just any child. This was her grandchild. But she had died years ago. The air turned frigid, the candlelight flickering violently as if struggling to stay alive. The child took another step forward, her laughter growing louder, filling every inch of the room. The grandmother wanted to run. She wanted to scream. But she couldn’t. Because deep down, she knew- The ghost of her grandchild had finally come home.
By Amal Antony2 years ago in Horror
The Shadow in the Mirror
The apartment was perfect—spacious, affordable, and in a quiet neighborhood. The only oddity was the large, antique mirror hanging in the hallway. Its ornate frame was chipped, and the glass had a faint, smoky tint. The landlord said it had been there for decades, left behind by the previous tenant. I didn’t think much of it at the time.
By Word Weaver2 years ago in Horror
The Last Train to Blackwood
The train to Blackwood was notorious. Locals called it the "Ghost Train," a relic from the past that still ran on the darkest nights. I didn’t believe in ghost stories, but when I missed the last regular train, I had no choice. The station was empty, the platform lit by a single flickering bulb. The air was thick with the smell of rain and rust.
By Word Weaver2 years ago in Horror
