supernatural
The hidden world of all things supernatural; a look inside witchcraft, spells, vexes, black magic and other spine-tingling supernatural phenomena.
The 3:17 Visitor” horror story
For as long as I can remember, I’ve been a light sleeper. Every sound, every creak, and even the faintest whisper of wind wakes me. So when I moved into my grandfather’s old countryside house after his death, I expected many sleepless nights. What I didn’t expect was what began exactly one week later—at 3:17 a.m.
By Ali Asad Ullahabout a year ago in Horror
My Favorite Short Scary Stories
My Favorite Short Scary Stories By: Zoea Marland, Class 12 There’s nothing I enjoy more than a good scary story—the adrenaline rush, the sudden chill down your spine, and that irresistible suspense that makes your heart race. If you know me, you know that I live for eerie tales, especially the kind you share during a late-night sleepover, flashlight in hand and blankets pulled up to your chin.
By Ali Asad Ullahabout a year ago in Horror
The Vanishing of Kenny Veach: Into the M Cave
In the unforgiving heat of the Nevada desert, a place riddled with stories of lost gold, secret military projects, and modern myths, a real-life mystery unfolded—one that would haunt internet forums, conspiracy communities, and wilderness lovers for years. This is the story of Kenny Veach, an experienced solo hiker and adventurer who vanished without a trace in November 2014 after claiming he found a strange, unnatural cave hidden in the mountains near a restricted military base. A cave that made his body vibrate and filled him with a terror he couldn’t explain. He called it the M Cave, and his disappearance is now one of the internet’s most unsettling real-world horror stories.
By Ali Asad Ullahabout a year ago in Horror
Season 2 : The Hollowing: How a Village’s Children Became Vessels for Something Older
Chapter 9: The Child Who Could Not Dream April 6th, 1982 – 3:03 AM The orphanage slept. Every window now blacked out, as though reality itself had stopped reflecting. The clocks had ceased ticking, and in every room .... even in the staff quarters .... mouths twitched silently in shared torment.
By Tales That Breathe at Nightabout a year ago in Horror
The Last Broadcast from Europa
In 2113, after decades of planning, the Europa Deep Research Initiative launched its most ambitious mission: “Echo-9.” The spacecraft was sent to Jupiter’s icy moon Europa to investigate the liquid ocean beneath its frozen crust. For centuries, scientists had speculated that microbial life might exist there—but what Echo-9’s crew discovered changed everything.
By Razu Islam – Lifestyle & Futuristic Writerabout a year ago in Horror
The Girl in the Window
It all started with a boy named Ravi. He was 12, quiet, loved drawing, and had just moved into a very old house with his parents in a small village. The house had peeling wallpaper, creaky wooden floors, and—this is important—a single narrow window in his bedroom, facing the woods behind the house. From the moment he moved in, Ravi felt something strange about that window. In the day, it was just trees and sky. But at night, it was different. He said the shadows outside seemed too still. Like they were... waiting. On the very first night, at exactly 3:33 a.m., Ravi woke up with a shiver. It wasn’t cold. It was something else. His skin felt like it remembered something before his mind did. You know that feeling, right? Like your body’s scared before you even know why? He turned to face the window. And that’s when he saw her. A pale girl. Maybe about his age. Long, messy black hair covering most of her face. But he could tell—she was looking right at him. She didn’t move. She just stood there, outside his window, eyes wide, head slightly tilted. And the weirdest part? There were no footprints in the snow beneath her. Ravi sat frozen for minutes, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. Then, like she’d heard it, the girl slowly lifted one hand… and tapped on the window. Three times. Tap. Tap. Tap. He screamed. His parents came running, but when they looked, there was nothing there. No girl. No marks. Just the silent woods. Of course, they told him it was a bad dream. Just nerves about the new house. But Ravi knew what he saw. And the next night, it happened again. Same time: 3:33 a.m. Same girl. Same tap-tap-tap. But this time, when she tapped, the glass cracked slightly. Just a hairline fracture, like a tiny lightning bolt. Ravi stopped sleeping. He kept lights on. Curtains closed. But no matter what he did, she still came. And every night, the crack in the glass grew just a little longer. One night, Ravi tried to draw her, thinking maybe it would help him process what was happening. But when he started sketching her face, his hand wouldn’t move right. It was like someone else was guiding the pencil. When he finished, he stared at the drawing—and realized— She was standing inside the room in the picture. Not outside. He tore it up. Burned it in the fireplace. But the next night, she was closer to the window. Her eyes were clearer now. They weren’t just looking. They were hungry. At school, Ravi’s friends noticed he looked worse every day. Pale. Tired. Twitchy. He told one friend—Amira—what was happening. She was brave, curious, and a little reckless. She said she’d spend the night at his house and see for herself. Ravi didn’t want to. But he also didn’t want to be alone anymore. So that Friday, Amira came over. They stayed up with flashlights and waited. The clock hit 3:33 a.m. Nothing. Amira turned to Ravi. “Maybe she’s shy.” Then came the tap. tap. tap. Both of them turned toward the window. She was there. But now—she was smiling. Amira gasped. “She’s real—Ravi—she’s real—” The girl raised her hand again, but instead of tapping, she pressed her palm flat against the window. The glass shattered. But instead of falling inward, the shards stayed floating in the air—like time itself paused—and the girl stepped through them. Not into the room. Into the mirror beside the bed. Ravi and Amira screamed, but no sound came out. It was like their voices were sucked out of the air. The girl turned in the mirror, looked back at them—and whispered something neither of them could hear, but somehow understood: "Let me in... or I'll take your place." They ran. Their screams returned only after they reached the hallway. His parents woke up. But again—when they checked—there was nothing there. Except... The mirror in Ravi’s room now showed a reflection that wasn’t his. The next day, Amira did some digging. She found out something creepy: over a hundred years ago, a girl named Elsbeth lived in the same house. She went missing after her parents locked her in her room for “talking to things in the mirror.” Her body was never found. But the rumor was she made a deal—with something evil—that if she could trap another soul in her place, she could walk free. And since then, there have been whispers about kids seeing a girl in the window. Always at 3:33 a.m. Ravi and Amira tried everything to get rid of her. Salt around the window. Breaking the mirror (it only came back, whole, the next morning). Even moving rooms—didn’t matter. She always came to that window. One night, Ravi didn’t wake up at 3:33. He woke up at 7. The window was wide open. And in the reflection of the mirror— He was gone. Instead, the girl was there. Smiling. Wearing his pajamas. Amira never saw Ravi again. His parents said he ran away. But every night, she checks her own window. Just in case. Because sometimes, she swears, she sees him now. But he's the one tapping.
By Silas Blackwoodabout a year ago in Horror
The room beyond the door
--- The Room Beyond the Door Subtitle: Whispers from the Other Side The first time Ethan heard the voice, he was alone in the hallway outside Room 6B of the Blackridge Boarding House. It was a whisper, barely audible over the groan of old pipes and the ticking radiator. Faint and wet-sounding, like someone exhaling directly into his ear. He’d just moved in two days earlier. The house was ancient—creaking floorboards, sagging wallpaper, and a landlord who looked like he’d stepped out of a forgotten century. Rent was cheap, which suited Ethan fine. After everything with the accident—the drinking, the breakup, the job loss—he just wanted somewhere to disappear. Blackridge was perfect for that. Except for Room 6B. It was at the end of the third-floor hallway. The door had no knob, no peephole, just a tarnished brass plaque that read “6B.” The landlord, Mr. Hensley, had told him flatly: “That room’s locked and stays that way.” Ethan had nodded. He didn't care. But now, he was starting to care. Because the whispers didn’t stop. At first, he thought it was the plumbing or maybe the wind. But every night, just after midnight, he'd hear them—wet, whispering voices, like a crowd murmuring through cracked teeth. He pressed his ear to the wall beside 6B and heard something shift inside. Furniture scraping. Footsteps. Then silence. On the fourth night, Ethan stayed up with a bottle of scotch and a flashlight. At 12:13 a.m., the doorknob that wasn’t there appeared. It simply… faded into view. A bronze knob, old-fashioned, stained black around the edges. Ethan blinked, rubbed his eyes, but it stayed. His heart pounded, but he reached for it anyway, and the cold metal met his hand like it had been waiting for him. He turned it. The door opened with a breath, not a creak. Inside, the room was wrong. It was vast—far larger than the house should allow. Walls stretched upward into darkness. The floor was covered in a carpet of dusty red velvet that looked wet. An antique chandelier hung crooked from the ceiling, its candles burning though he smelled no wax, no fire. The air smelled like rot and iron. And in the center of the room was a chair. In it sat a figure. At first, Ethan thought it was a man. But as he stepped closer, he saw its head was wrong—elongated, as though stretched by hands pulling at both ends. The face was smooth, featureless… until Ethan blinked and saw his own face staring back. He stumbled backward. The chair was now empty. The whispers rose. “You opened the door…” “It sees you now…” “It wears you…” He turned to run—but the door was gone. The room was shifting. The velvet beneath his feet pulled like quicksand. Walls contracted, expanded. Shadows slid across the walls like oil. Then: a sharp pain in his chest, like a hook dragging through his lungs. He fell. --- Ethan woke up in his room. Sweating, gasping. It was dawn. His door was locked. No sign of Room 6B. Just the hallway, as drab and silent as ever. He convinced himself it was a dream. A nightmare. Maybe hallucination. But that day, he noticed things. His reflection didn’t follow his movements exactly. When he blinked, it stared. When he turned his head, it smiled. That night, the whispers came again—from inside his room. By the end of the week, Ethan no longer remembered why he’d come to Blackridge. His thoughts were cluttered, looping fragments. He began to see the door in reflections—mirrors, windows, the blank face of his turned-off TV. He saw the chair. He saw the figure. And then, finally, he became it. --- Weeks later, a new tenant moved into the boarding house. A quiet girl named Tara, looking to escape her own demons. On her third night, she heard voices coming from the end of the hallway. When she looked, there was no Room 6B. Just a wall. But late that night, the whispers began. And the knob appeared. --- 🩸 The Room Beyond the Door Whispers from the Other Side. It sees you now.
By Dawood khanabout a year ago in Horror
