supernatural

The hidden world of all things supernatural; a look inside witchcraft, spells, vexes, black magic and other spine-tingling supernatural phenomena.

Ghost in the Group Chat. AI-Generated.
Ghost in the Group Chat The notification tone pinged just as the group chat fell into one of its usual awkward silences. For the past year, the five of them—Maya, Chris, Jordan, Leah, and Sam—had struggled to keep the thread alive. The group used to be constant noise: memes, late-night rants, pictures of half-eaten pizza. But ever since Alex’s accident, the chat felt like a hollow shell of what it once was.
By Rashid khanabout a year ago in Horror
HOUSE OF TOYS 2. AI-Generated.
It was nothing. Just... nothing. There was absolutely no one behind me—only a wall of pitch-black silence pressing in from all sides. I wiped the sweat off my face, my hands trembling from the tension, and slowly switched on my flashlight. I had to confirm it.
By ADIR SEGALabout a year ago in Horror
An American Werewolf in London is a Tragic Tale of a Man Forced to Become a Monster
The first time I watched this film, was back when I was 18 years old. I was still in college, and I wanted to watch a horror movie for the night. I decided to finally check out An American Werewolf in London, since I kept hearing from my family that this film was the best werewolf movie ever made.
By Emy Quinnabout a year ago in Horror
The Ningen: Japan’s Government-Concealed Arctic Humanoid
“White Under White” Imagine a horizon that never blinks. A seam of gray sky stitched to a dead-flat sea, nothing to measure distance, nothing to hold onto but your breath fogging in your mask. The ship’s metal moans in the cold. Sonar pings like a heartbeat you don’t trust. And then, under the ice, something pale glides by. It’s not a whale. Not a seal. It is shaped like an idea you don’t want to have: a human form, impossible in scale, moving with the slow, deliberate grace of something that has never needed to fear you.
By Veil of Shadowsabout a year ago in Horror
The House on Ashwood Lane
The second night was quieter. Almost too quiet.The Whitlocks had unpacked most of their things, though the house still felt cavernous, its long hallways swallowing every sound. Emily kept the brass key tucked under her pillow, certain it belonged to one of the doors upstairs, but none had a lock. That night, she wasn’t the only one awake. Her brother, Jason, wandered the hall around midnight. He swore he heard water dripping, though every faucet in the house was dry. The sound led him to the tall, dust-streaked mirror at the end of the corridor. It had been there when they moved in. None of them had touched it. The mirror’s frame was carved with twisting vines, the wood cracked, but what unsettled Jason most was the glass itself, dark, uneven, like it had been warped by heat. He paused. In the reflection, he could see himself standing in the hall, pale in the moonlight. But the longer he stared, the more wrong it looked. His reflection’s head tilted… before he moved. Jason blinked hard. His reflection straightened again, perfectly normal. He laughed nervously under his breath. Lack of sleep, he told himself. Too many horror movies. But when he turned to leave, the reflection didn’t. The next morning, Jason refused to walk past the mirror. His parents barely noticed, they were too busy arguing about the smell of mildew in the kitchen. Emily, though, noticed everything. She found her brother sitting on the porch, pale and silent. “What happened?” she asked. Jason shook his head. “The mirror’s wrong. Don’t look at it.”Emily glanced back through the doorway. From the hall, the mirror glimmered faintly, even though no light touched it. That night, Emily couldn’t sleep. She left her room and crept down the hallway toward the mirror. She stood before it, her small face reflected in the glass. For a long time, nothing happened. Then her reflection smiled. She didn’t. Her breath caught in her throat. The glass rippled, faintly, like water disturbed by a stone. And in the reflection, a figure stood behind her. Emily spun around. The hallway was empty. She turned back, the reflection leaned forward, pressing its hands against the inside of the glass. Her own face stared back, mouth opening wider, too wide, stretching until the glass cracked. A whisper hissed through the hallway: “The house is watching.” Emily stumbled back, clutching the brass key tight against her chest. The crack in the mirror spread like a vein across its surface, but when she blinked, it was gone. Perfectly smooth. Perfectly whole. And her reflection… was still smiling.
By Godswillabout a year ago in Horror
Odeta Rose and The Eyes of Madame Durova
In a crumbling village nestled in the Carpathian Mountains of Romania, the locals whispered one name with dread: Madame Durova.
By odetaroseabout a year ago in Horror
Season 4: Whispers of the Forgotten: A Descent into Eldoria Manor
Chapter 1 The grinding outside grew louder, a deep, earth-shaking rumble that vibrated through the cabin's very foundations. The windows began to rattle in their frames, and dust rained down from the ceiling. Alistair, his heart pounding in his chest, looked at the silent music box in his hands, then at his terrified companions.
By Tales That Breathe at Nightabout a year ago in Horror
The Mystery Man Who Landed in Japan With a Passport From Nowhere
In the summer heat of 1959, Tokyo’s busy Haneda Airport became the stage for one of the strangest encounters in modern travel history. A well-dressed man, confident and fluent in several languages, stepped off a plane from Hong Kong and approached immigration like any other traveler. At first, nothing seemed unusual—another businessman or globe-trotter passing through one of Asia’s busiest air gateways. But when he handed over his passport, the story took a turn that continues to unsettle researchers and storytellers alike.
By Life Hopesabout a year ago in Horror
Drakula halála ("Dracula's Death")
The following is an attempt to reconstruct with prose the plot of a lost film, based on a description of the film from Wikipedia, an online source. It may work as a short piece of fiction, but whether it does or not, the temptation to do so was much too great to resist. You could almost put it down to a spell cast by Dracula (in Hungarian, rendered Drakula), by all things Dracul, upon the author. Let us begin. Based on a novelization I have recently discovered, I plan to adapt this in yet another version as soon as time permits. This is my first attempt.
By Tom Bakerabout a year ago in Horror
The Tunnel (Part 4 of 4)
The bodies were littered all over the facility in pieces. Some were deflated like balloons, I believe Paul's tongue like vine had slurped up every drop of their blood like a straw. I was waiting for death, expecting to get ripped apart, like the man I assumed I had smoked my last cigarette with.
By Emy Quinnabout a year ago in Horror
A Delicious Proposition. Content Warning.
There was a time when Cora loved her husband, David, or at least she thought she did. Like a twisted kind of Stockholm syndrome, she had convinced herself that her captor wanted nothing but the best for her. For years, she yielded to his commands. Suffered his verbal degradation. Eventually his words evolved into violent physical abuse.
By Stephanie Wrightabout a year ago in Horror
Proxima Shadows
By the year 2185, humanity had constructed the Proxima Research Station, orbiting the star Proxima Centauri to study its solar flares and potential habitable exoplanets. The station’s crew consisted of fifteen scientists, engineers, and AI specialists, all highly trained for long-duration deep-space missions.
By Razu Islam – Lifestyle & Futuristic Writerabout a year ago in Horror