supernatural
The hidden world of all things supernatural; a look inside witchcraft, spells, vexes, black magic and other spine-tingling supernatural phenomena.
The Room Upstairs
The first time I saw the photograph, I didn't recognize the face. It was tucked behind the loose panel in the hallway upstairs, the one that always clicked when you walked past after dark. We'd lived in the house six months before I found it—a black-and-white photo folded neatly and wedged between the laths, as though it had been waiting.
By Lucien v. Crowabout a year ago in Horror
The Basement Door That Wasn't There Yesterday
Hey, wanna hear a scary story? One of those that sounds made-up, but feels just real enough to make you check the corners of your room tonight? This story is about a kid named Jamie, who found a door in his basement that wasn’t there before. Not a tiny crack, not a hidden panel—an actual wooden door with black hinges and a knob that looked like an old eyeball. No one in his family knew how it got there. But Jamie? He opened it anyway. And that’s when everything started to go wrong. Chapter 1: The New House Jamie had just moved with his parents and his older sister, Tessa, to a small town called Red Hollow. It was the kind of place where nothing exciting ever happened. The biggest event of the year was the Pumpkin Parade, and even that ended by 7 p.m. The house they moved into was old—like, creaky-floorboards-and-random-cold-spots old. But it was big, and it had a giant backyard, so Jamie didn’t complain. Except for the basement. From the very first day, Jamie hated it. It smelled like wet dirt and old socks, and sometimes it made weird tapping noises—like fingers drumming against wood. “Probably mice,” his dad said. But mice don’t whisper. Chapter 2: The Door Appears One morning, Jamie went downstairs to grab a soda from the basement fridge. And there it was. A door. In the back corner. Where yesterday there had just been brick wall. He blinked. It was tall, almost to the ceiling. Painted black. Its doorknob looked like it was made of yellowed glass—or maybe… an eyeball? He ran upstairs. “Mom! There’s a weird door in the basement!” His mom looked confused. “You mean the furnace room?” “No! It’s new! I swear!” But when she came down… the door was gone. Just bricks. Chapter 3: Night Whispers That night, Jamie had trouble sleeping. He kept hearing the tapping again. Except this time, it was above his room. In the attic. And then it moved to the wall behind his bed. Tap. Tap. Tap. He sat up, holding his breath. A whisper followed. “You saw me.” Jamie jumped up, turned on the light. Nothing. But the tapping continued. All. Night. Long. Chapter 4: Tessa Gets Curious Tessa didn’t believe Jamie at first. Until two days later—she saw the door too. She went downstairs to get laundry and ran back up two minutes later, pale and shaking. “You’re right,” she whispered. “It’s there.” Their parents still didn’t believe them. “You two are spending too much time on horror movies,” their dad said. So that night, Jamie and Tessa decided to record the door on Jamie’s phone. They crept downstairs, careful not to wake anyone. And yes—the door was there. This time, it was slightly open. Just a crack. Enough to feel cold air leaking through. And a low sound. Like… breathing. Chapter 5: The Video Back in Jamie’s room, they watched the recording. But when they played the video… The door wasn’t there. Just an empty wall. Jamie tapped the screen. “What the heck?!” Tessa leaned closer. “Wait—what’s that?” In the lower corner of the video, barely visible, a pair of white eyes glowed in the dark. Watching them. Chapter 6: The Note Under the Pillow The next morning, Jamie woke up to find a folded paper under his pillow. His name was written in dark red ink. Inside, it said: “YOU OPENED IT. NOW IT WANTS OUT.” He dropped the note like it was on fire. Tessa ran into the room holding her own. Same handwriting. Hers said: “DON’T SLEEP TONIGHT.” Chapter 7: The Night They Stayed Awake Jamie and Tessa decided to stay awake together, with flashlights and snacks. At exactly 2:17 a.m., the power went out. The house went dead silent. And then the tapping started again. But this time, it was louder. Angrier. Like something trying to claw its way through. They held hands and listened. Scritch. Scritch. Tap. THUD. Then a voice whispered right outside Jamie’s bedroom door: “Let me in.” Tessa grabbed the doorknob and held it tight. The knob twisted. Click. Click. But it never opened. They didn’t sleep that night. Chapter 8: The Hidden History The next day, they snuck into the town library and asked the oldest librarian about their address. Her face went pale when she heard the street name. “Oh… that house,” she whispered. “I thought it was demolished.” “Why?” Jamie asked. She pulled out an old newspaper. The headline read: “Family Vanishes. Only Door Left Behind.” The article was from 1963. It said a family disappeared overnight. No sign of struggle. Just a strange black door in the basement that had never been there before. The house was sealed off. Until someone rebuilt it. Their house. Chapter 9: Facing the Door That night, they knew what they had to do. No more running. They crept down into the basement together. The door was wide open now. And beyond it was… a hallway. Dark. Wet. Breathing. They stepped inside. The walls closed behind them. Inside the hallway, they heard whispers: “We were hungry.” “You opened it.” “Now you stay.” They ran. Through twisting halls, mirrors, hands reaching from the dark. But then—Tessa slipped. She screamed, and Jamie turned back. But she was already being dragged away. Into the shadows. Gone. Chapter 10: The Locked Room Jamie woke up in his bed. His parents were acting normal. Like Tessa had never existed. Her room? Empty. Her name? Gone from family photos. At school? No one remembered her. But Jamie did. He always would. And the door? Still there. Waiting. Epilogue: Your Turn They say some doors shouldn’t be opened. They’re not locked to keep you out—they’re locked to keep something else in. And if you ever find one? Don’t listen when it whispers. Don’t look when it breathes. And never open it… …unless you’re ready to be forgotten too.
By Silas Blackwoodabout a year ago in Horror
The Man Who Borrowed My Face
A few months ago, I downloaded this face-filter app called TrueFace AI. It wasn’t like TikTok filters. This one was supposed to be “hyper-real” — for people who want to look slightly better in Zoom calls, or on stream. I thought I’d try it once, maybe for a laugh.
By huzaifa Khanabout a year ago in Horror
The Woman at the Door
I was twelve when I first saw her. It was a rainy Thursday night, the kind where thunder rumbled so loud the windows shook. I had just gotten out of the shower, and the house was already too quiet. The kind of quiet that makes your chest feel heavy, like the air itself is warning you to run. My little brother, Eli, was already asleep. I passed his room on the way to mine and paused to pull his covers tighter over him. He looked so small, barely seven years old. He had this habit of kicking off his blanket while sleeping, and Mom always said he’d catch a cold like that. I left his door slightly open and headed to my room across the hall. The first sign that something was wrong came at 2:47 a.m. I woke suddenly, no sound, no movement, just this cold pressure sitting on my chest. Not sleep paralysis. I could move. But I didn’t want to. Because she was there. Standing at the edge of my doorway, half in shadow, half bathed in pale moonlight, was a woman. Blood-red skin. Black eyes like holes dug into her skull. And her hair—shoulder-length, jet black, and deathly still despite the breeze from my fan. She didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t breathe. She only stared. And then, slowly, she raised one arm and pointed. Not at me. At Eli’s door. I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t scream. My tongue felt like stone in my mouth. I blinked once. She vanished. I jumped up, heart slamming in my chest, and ran straight to Eli’s room. He was still in bed, sleeping soundly, as if nothing had happened. But his skin… It was pale before. That soft peachy tone of a healthy kid. But now, it had a faint red hue, almost like the beginning of a sunburn. I shook him awake. “Eli,” I whispered. “Eli, wake up.” He opened his eyes slowly, groggy, confused. “What?” he mumbled, rubbing his face. “Do you feel okay? Does your skin hurt?” He blinked at me, his lip quivering slightly. “She was here.” My blood ran cold. “Who?” “The red woman. She stood by my bed.” By morning, Eli had a fever. His skin was redder. My mom brushed it off as a viral infection. “Kids catch things,” she said, preparing a bowl of soup. “You’re just stressed, that’s all.” But I knew. Over the next three days, Eli’s condition worsened. His eyes sunk deeper, his lips cracked, and he became thinner. He barely ate. He barely spoke. Except when he slept. At night, he whispered things. Horrible things. “She’s watching me.” “She’s in the corner.” “She wants me to go with her.” I recorded him once. I wanted proof. But the audio was corrupted the next morning. A screeching static replaced his voice. I played it again and again, trying to find something useful. But then I heard it—hidden behind the noise. A woman’s laugh. Not loud. Not mocking. A slow, breathy chuckle like she was savoring something. I stopped the recording and deleted it. I couldn’t sleep. I stayed up every night, watching his room from the hallway. Praying. Pleading silently for her not to return. But on the seventh night, she did. It started with Eli screaming. I rushed into his room, Mom right behind me, and we both froze. He wasn’t on the bed. He was standing in the middle of the room, back arched, eyes rolled up into his head. His mouth hung open in a silent scream, and his hands were twisted like claws. A red glow flickered across his skin, as if his veins were glowing. Then she stepped from the corner. Not from the doorway. From the shadows themselves. Her black eyes met mine. And she smiled. “Give him to me,” she said, voice low, crackling, like dry leaves burning. “No!” I shouted. I ran to Eli and wrapped my arms around him. Mom was screaming. Crying. Praying out loud. “She’s not real!” she kept yelling. “It’s a dream! Wake up!” But it wasn’t a dream. The woman raised her hand again. And this time, she pointed at me. “I’ll come back for you,” she said. Then everything went black. Eli died that night. The doctors said it was some kind of organ failure, sudden and unexplainable. No illness. No virus. Nothing in his blood. Just death. His face was frozen in terror. Eyes wide, lips parted in a silent scream. Skin red like fresh blood. Mom never spoke of it again. She moved us to a new town. Burned his clothes. Removed every picture of him from the house. Said it was the only way she could cope. But I couldn’t forget. I saw her. I heard her. And she wasn’t done with me. Months passed. I tried to live normally. Went to school. Tried making friends. But the fear never left. Until one night, while brushing my teeth, I glanced up at the mirror. She was behind me. No reflection. No noise. Just her. Smiling. She leaned forward and whispered into my ear. “You blinked.” I screamed and dropped to the floor. When Mom rushed in, I begged her to believe me. I cried for hours. But she just held me and repeated, “It’s the trauma, baby. It’s just the trauma.” I stopped talking about it after that. But she kept showing up. In the mirror. In the windows. Reflected on my phone screen when it was off. She was always there. Watching. Waiting. The End...... What's the word count? Of the story above?
By CreepVille Horror Storiesabout a year ago in Horror
The Last Lightkeeper
The Barrow’s End Lighthouse stood alone on a jagged cliff, battered by wind and sea. It had once been vital—guiding ships safely through the foggy waters of Black Hollow Bay. But now, in the age of satellites and sonar, the lighthouse had been decommissioned, left to rot above the crashing waves.
By Silas Graveabout a year ago in Horror
The Terrifying Sound"
The Silence of the Night In the darkness of the night, an eerie silence filled the air, but within it, a strange sound began to echo—one that Priya couldn't ignore. She had come to a remote old mansion just outside the city for a week-long stay. There were rumors surrounding the mansion, tales of ghostly sounds and a haunting presence. But Priya, ever the skeptic, thought these were nothing more than exaggerated stories.
By Razu Islam – Lifestyle & Futuristic Writerabout a year ago in Horror
The Wake Word. Content Warning.
It began like most conveniences do—harmless, helpful, and quietly addictive. My apartment complex gave all tenants a “smart hub” complimentary with lease renewal. The sales pitch boasted about its efficiency: voice-controlled everything, energy saving, AI scheduling, even white noise for better sleep. “Welcome to living with Eno,” the property manager had smiled. “It’s like having a personal butler.”
By Silas Graveabout a year ago in Horror
Echoes of HALO. Content Warning.
When HALO launched, it wasn’t just another smart home assistant. It was a leap forward. Voice recognition powered by neural-net emotional profiling. It didn’t just understand what you said—it understood what you meant. A real “companion AI,” the ads said. “Make your house feel like home.”
By Silas Graveabout a year ago in Horror
The Spill Room
The first time I saw the Spill Room, I didn’t know that’s what the guys called it. It was just the loading bay office—a concrete cube tucked in the back of the warehouse I’d just been hired to supervise. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, and the walls were painted that institutional gray-green color you see in public schools and prisons. The smell was a mix of diesel, cardboard, and dried sweat.
By Silas Graveabout a year ago in Horror
CASE FILE 003 — THE PINEHURST GAP
🗓️ March 3rd, 2023 Another hiker went missing in what’s unofficially known as “The Pinehurst Gap,” a densely wooded corridor outside of Rainier National Forest, Washington. That makes eleven recorded disappearances in the same two-mile zone. The GPS on the missing man’s phone froze at 4:33 PM, showing a narrow ridge path not listed on any public trail map. The final text to his girlfriend simply read:
By Veil of Shadowsabout a year ago in Horror
The Cave in Younger's Holler. Top Story - July 2025.
I told them we shouldn’t have come, that it’d be a mistake, but they never listen to me. I’m the friend in the group often overlooked, always interrupted as if I weren’t there. Normally, I wouldn’t mind sitting quietly, soaking in the camaraderie of my group. Tonight, it was different. I wish they had listened to me.
By Mother Combsabout a year ago in Horror
