monster
Monsters and horror go hand in hand; explore horrific creatures, beasts and hairy scaries like Freddy Krueger, Frankenstein and far beyond.
The Melon Heads of Kirtland
There are places where the woods feel deeper than they should, where the trees seem to close in just a little too tightly, and where the silence carries a weight that is difficult to explain. The outskirts of Kirtland have long been described this way, not because of anything immediately visible, but because of what has been reported there for generations. It is not the kind of story that announces itself loudly. It does not rely on spectacle or dramatic confrontation. Instead, it lingers in the margins, built from quiet encounters, brief glimpses, and a persistent sense that something may be present just beyond the edge of sight.
By Veil of Shadows5 months ago in Horror
The Walking Mystery. Content Warning.
Chapter 1: He's everywhere, walking amongst the people on the street. He watches everything that goes on around Him. No one knows that He's there, waiting. He's waiting for the perfect opportunity. He's hungry, hungry for the flesh of those idiots called humans. They don't notice Him. If they ever saw Him, they'd never know. Everyone just passes by Him, never looking toward Him. At least during the day. Tonight was the night that He would feed. Every week, He has a giant feast on flesh. The humans die quickly that night. He smiled to Himself. The feast would be a success He thought, and He ran into the dark mountain range.
By Jay Jaeger5 months ago in Horror
The Smell That Watches
I didn’t notice the smell at first. That’s what unsettles me now—the idea that something so… wrong could exist in my apartment for days, maybe weeks, without me recognizing it. It wasn’t rot, not exactly. It was sweeter than that. Like fruit left too long in a sealed room, fermenting into something faintly alcoholic and deeply, quietly alive.
By Rohit Kalsariya 5 months ago in Horror
The Masterpiece
Aurora always believed the desert could make something beautiful out of anyone, even her. She'd grown up on Windy Pass, where the wind never stopped and the dust never settled, and she'd learned early that if she wanted something lovely in her life, she'd have to make it herself.
By Sara Wilson5 months ago in Horror
The Last Message on My Phone… Sent After He Died
The message came at exactly 2:17 AM.Not a call.Not a notification from some random app.Just one sentence that made my blood turn cold: “Don’t trust them.” It was from my brother.The same brother we buried three days ago.For a moment,I couldn’t breathe.My eyes stayed locked on the screen as if blinking would make it disappear.My mind rushed to find logic—maybe it was delayed,maybe scheduled,maybe some kind of glitch.But deep down,something felt wrong.My brother,Ahsan,was not the kind of person who sent vague warnings.He was precise,careful,always explaining things in detail.If he had something to say,he would say it clearly.Not like this.Then my phone buzzed again. “They are lying about my death.” A chill ran down my spine.I sat up straight,my heart pounding so loudly it felt like it was echoing in the room.I read the message again and again,hoping the words would somehow rearrange themselves into something normal.But they didn’t.Suddenly,the memories of his funeral didn’t feel normal anymore.The coffin was closed.They said his body was too damaged to be seen.Everything was rushed—too rushed.At the time,I thought it was just part of the tragedy.Now,it felt like something else…something hidden.I tried calling his number.It rang once.Then the call ended.Before I could even react,another message appeared: “If you’re reading this,it means I didn’t make it.” My hands started shaking.This wasn’t grief anymore.This was fear.The next morning,I went straight to the police station.I showed them the messages,my voice unsteady but desperate.They barely looked at the screen.“Probably a technical issue,”one of them said casually.“These things happen.” “But he’s texting me,”I insisted.“After his death.Doesn’t that sound strange to you?” They exchanged glances.One of them forced a smile.“Go home.Try to rest.You’ve been through a lot.” That was it.No investigation.No concern.Just dismissal.And that’s when his first message started making sense. “Don’t trust them.” I went back home with a growing feeling in my chest—something between anger and fear.If the police wouldn’t help,I had to find answers myself.I went into Ahsan’s room.Everything was exactly how he left it.Clean.Organized.Silent.But something felt different now,like the room was holding secrets I had never noticed before.I opened his laptop.It took me hours to guess the password.I tried birthdays,names,random combinations—until finally,it unlocked.What I saw next made my stomach drop.A folder on the desktop: “IF SOMETHING HAPPENS TO ME.” My hands hesitated for a second before clicking it.Inside were files—documents,audio recordings,photos.All carefully arranged.Ahsan had been investigating something.Not just anything.Powerful people.Secret meetings.Transactions that didn’t make sense.There were names I recognized—people with influence,people who could easily control stories…or hide them.My heart started racing again.This wasn’t an accident.Before I could go deeper,my phone buzzed.I slowly picked it up. “You opened it,didn’t you?” The air in the room suddenly felt heavy.No one knew I had accessed the laptop.No one.Another message appeared. “Now they know about you too.” A cold wave of panic washed over me.I turned around instinctively,as if someone was standing behind me.But the room was empty.Silent.Then— Knock. My body froze.It wasn’t loud.It wasn’t urgent.Just a slow,controlled knock on the door.Another one followed.Each knock felt heavier than the last.My mind was screaming at me to move,but my legs wouldn’t respond.My phone vibrated again.I looked down,my hands trembling.The final message. “Run.” The knocking stopped.And in that sudden silence,I realized something terrifying—whoever was behind that door…already knew I was inside.
By imtiazalam5 months ago in Horror
The Loveland Frogman
There are stories that begin in laughter, dismissed almost immediately as local oddities or exaggerated accounts shaped by imagination and time. The Loveland Frogman is often introduced this way, as a peculiar footnote in American cryptid lore, a tale so unusual in its details that it invites skepticism before it invites curiosity. But like many stories that persist beyond their initial telling, this one has a habit of resisting easy dismissal, not because it grows more elaborate, but because it grows more consistent the closer one looks.
By Veil of Shadows5 months ago in Horror
Monster
Abner Stevens walked into Mr. Collins’s classroom on noodle legs. He was a little early because his dad dropped him off this morning and his dad had a tendency to drop people off way too early. Abner looked all around and took his seat. Next Margo came skipping into the room.
By DJ Robbins5 months ago in Horror
