supernatural
The hidden world of all things supernatural; a look inside witchcraft, spells, vexes, black magic and other spine-tingling supernatural phenomena.
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 Last Message in the Rain – Part 2: Shadows in the Attic
The rain came back two nights later, pounding against Anna’s windows as if it had a message of its own to deliver. Each drop was like a warning, a steady drumbeat of doom that rattled the dishes in her kitchen. Thunder cracked so loudly it felt as though the sky itself was splitting apart.
By Shehzad Anjumabout a year ago in Horror
The Last Message in the Rain
It was always raining when the letters came. Elise Harding hadn’t been looking for anything unusual when she came home that evening, just a quiet night after a long day at work. Her umbrella was dripping as she walked up to her door, the air thick with the smell of rain. She reached for her keys, but then something caught her eye—a pale blue envelope, stuck to the door. No name. No stamp. Just a deep red wax seal that glinted in the dim light.
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
Dyer Lane
At the onset, Dyer Lane may seem like a simple, tree-lined country road surrounded by barren fields, but that would be far from the truth. Instead, this seemingly quiet country road located just outside of Sacramento has seen its fair share of darkness over the years, including a witches' coven, secret KKK meetings, murders, and animal mutilation.
By Janis Masyk-Jacksonabout a year ago in Horror
House of Toys. AI-Generated.
I’m sure you’ve all heard of Disney. Cute little Mickey Mouse and all those beloved characters. When I was a kid, my favorite was Pinocchio. There was something about his desperate wish to be a real boy that fascinated me—yet also disturbed me a little. I mean... how far was he willing to go to become human?
By ADIR SEGALabout a year ago in Horror
The Whispering House
On the edge of a small, forgotten town stood an abandoned house no one dared to enter. The locals said it whispered at night. Some claimed they heard voices calling their names, others swore they saw shadows moving inside even when the windows were boarded shut. One autumn evening, three friends—Amir, Faizan, and Sara—decided to test the legend. They dared each other to spend just one hour inside. Armed with flashlights, they pushed open the creaking door. At first, it was silent—dust, cobwebs, and broken furniture. But then, faintly, they heard it: a whisper. It wasn’t the wind. It was words. “Get… out…” Sara froze. “Did you hear that?” The whisper grew louder, echoing in all directions. Their flashlights flickered. Shadows shifted on the walls, but none of them were moving. Amir tried to laugh it off, but when he turned to the door, it had shut by itself. The whispers turned into screams. A figure appeared at the end of the hallway—pale, faceless, and pointing at them. The friends bolted for the door, but the floorboards beneath them groaned and cracked. Just before the boards gave way, Sara yanked it open, and they all stumbled out into the cold night air. Behind them, the house fell silent again. The next day, the townspeople found the door nailed shut—as if it had never been opened. No one ever saw Amir, Faizan, or Sara again.
By Afriditipszoneabout a year ago in Horror
