monster
Monsters and horror go hand in hand; explore horrific creatures, beasts and hairy scaries like Freddy Krueger, Frankenstein and far beyond.
Run Is A Sci-Fi Movie That Knows A Broken Heart Is Scarier Than Aliens by NWO Sparrow
I am so tired of watching people just be scared of aliens. It is not that the screaming and the running is not fun. It is. But after a while, it all blends together. The fear is generic. The hero is just trying to live. There is no texture to it.
By NWO SPARROWabout a year ago in Horror
The Last Message in the Rain – Part 8: The Final Echo
Elara stood in the clearing, the rain now a soft drizzle, as if the storm itself had lost its fury. The house—what was left of it—lay in ruins behind her. Ashes and broken dreams were scattered across the earth, the memories of a past she’d tried so hard to escape.
By Shehzad Anjumabout a year ago in Horror
The Last Message in the Rain – Part 7: Echoes of the Forgotten
The storm hadn't gone. It never truly left. If anything, it had grown fiercer, thrashing against the walls of the house like a beast trying to claw its way inside. Elara stood on the porch, the wind biting at her skin, her heart pounding with a frantic rhythm. She had broken free from the attic. She had faced the darkness, and yet, now it felt like the past was refusing to let go.
By Shehzad Anjumabout a year ago in Horror
The Last Message in the Rain – Part 4: Shadows of the Past
The storm was a beast that night, its fury lashing against Elara’s home with a force she had never felt before. The thunder rumbled through the hills like some ancient, forgotten warning, and each flash of lightning fractured the darkness, casting jagged shadows across her kitchen floor.
By Shehzad Anjumabout a year ago in Horror
The Creepy Friend Request That Changed My Life Forever
It all began with a single friend request. The profile picture was bizarre—something about it unsettled me. Normally, I never accepted requests from strangers. But that night, for reasons I still can’t explain, I clicked “Accept.” At first, nothing happened. Days passed in silence until suddenly, a message appeared. My heart pounded as I opened it. A photo of a man dressed as a clown popped up, followed by chilling words: *“I’ve missed you, Emily. The countdown has begun. Soon, you’ll be mine.”* I froze. *Missed me? Mine?* Who was this person? I typed quickly: *“Who are you? And what is this picture?!”* Almost instantly, he replied. This time, it was a picture of my fiancé, with a caption underneath: *“He’s the one who’s coming for you… soon.”* Terror crawled through my veins. *“Are you insane?!”* I typed back. His reply made my blood run cold: *“I am your fiancé. Ask your mother.”* --- Shaken, I ran to my mother, who was sitting quietly reading the Qur’an. My hands trembled as I showed her the messages. Her face went pale. “Close your phone, Emily,” she whispered, fear in her eyes. “Don’t answer him again.” “Why?!” I cried, tears welling up. “Who is he? Why would he say to ask you?” Her silence broke me more than his words. Finally, with tears streaming down her face, she confessed: “That man… he is not a stranger. He’s been bound to you since before you were born.” My stomach twisted. “What are you talking about?!” She sobbed. “The night you were born, I was dying. I went to a woman… a fortune-teller. She promised to save your life, but in return, you would be tied to a spirit—your so-called ‘fiancé.’” --- Before I could speak, my phone rang. The name flashing on the screen was his strange profile. Against my mother’s pleas, I answered. A distorted laugh seeped through the speaker, mixed with the sound of weeping. Then a low voice: *“You’re late, Emily. I’ve waited for years. Soon, nothing will keep us apart.”* I whispered, terrified: *“What do you want from me?!”* His answer shook me to the core: *“I told you. I am your fiancé. Ask your mother what she promised the night you were born.”* My mother’s cries filled the room. “Hang up, Emily! Please!” But his voice continued: *“Do you remember waking as a child to screams in the house? That was me. I’ve been watching you since your first breath. And now, the time has come.”* Suddenly, the lights in the house flickered and went out. The air grew heavy with an unnatural silence—until the clown’s laughter filled every corner. --- At that moment, the door burst open. It was my uncle—our neighbor, a religious man. His eyes widened at the atmosphere, and without hesitation, he began reciting verses from the Qur’an. With each verse, the laughter grew weaker, distorted, as if in agony. My phone buzzed violently, and the clown’s image stretched across the screen before vanishing completely. Moments later, the lights returned. Silence filled the room, but this time it was peaceful. My uncle looked at me and said firmly: “By God’s will, the curse has been broken. No spirit, no pact, no darkness can overpower His words.” --- I collapsed to the floor, sobbing with relief. My mother held my hand tightly, whispering through her tears: “Forgive me, Emily. The biggest mistake of my life was turning to anyone other than God. But He is merciful. He freed you.” I hugged her, tears mixing with hers. “I forgive you, Mom. What matters is that it’s over.” From that day, I deleted my accounts, stepped away from social media, and most importantly—I felt free. The heavy shadow that had haunted me for years was gone. I had learned something I would never forget: *no curse, no spirit, no deal is stronger than God’s will.* My mother changed too—devoting her days to prayer and repentance. And me? I felt as though I had been given a new life. A second chance. And I promised myself one thing: I would live it without fear. Faith is the only shield, and no darkness can conquer the light of God.
By محمد السبكيabout a year ago in Horror
The Time I Yelled Out No to Him
The house was never quiet. Even in the dead hours, when the world outside seemed frozen, the old beams whispered to themselves, sighing under the weight of history. Tonight, though, the sounds were different. The creaks weren’t idle, they were deliberate like footsteps circling the edges of my awareness.
By Romeo Fordabout a year ago in Horror
The Vanishing Hotel Room
I had always loved traveling, but my last trip changed me forever. It started in Paris. My connecting flight was delayed, and exhaustion forced me to book a small hotel near the airport. The taxi driver seemed hesitant when I gave him the address, but after a long silence, he nodded and drove. The streets grew darker, emptier, and quieter. We stopped in front of an old building—faded red bricks, ivy crawling up its walls, and an old wooden sign that read: Hotel Celeste.
By huzaifa Khanabout a year ago in Horror
