supernatural
The hidden world of all things supernatural; a look inside witchcraft, spells, vexes, black magic and other spine-tingling supernatural phenomena.
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
The Mirror Guest
It all started with an old mirror. You see, mirrors are supposed to reflect what is. But what if they start showing you things that shouldn't be there? What if they remember things you never did, faces you never wore, or worse—someone else inside them? This is what happened to my friend Jay. Jay had just moved into a new apartment. It was one of those older buildings that creaked at night and smelled faintly of old wood and something a little... damp. But rent was cheap, and the location was good. Plus, Jay loved "vintage" stuff. The place came with some old furniture, including this large, ornate mirror in the hallway. It was the kind with a thick, wooden frame and little carvings of roses and thorns that you didn't really notice unless you looked too close. Jay thought it was cool. A little creepy, but cool. The first strange thing happened about a week after moving in. Jay walked past the mirror to the kitchen late one night and swore he saw someone standing behind him. He turned around—nothing. Just the quiet hallway and his own shadow stretching from the glow of the fridge light. He laughed it off. Lack of sleep. Stress. Maybe he was just seeing things. But the next night, the figure came back. This time, it was clearer. A shape—tall, a little hunched, with shoulders that looked too narrow, and arms that looked too long. No face, just a blur where the eyes should be. When Jay turned around, it was gone. But when he looked back at the mirror—it was still there. Standing behind him. Not moving. Jay jumped. He waved his hand behind him, then in front of the mirror. Gone. He didn’t sleep that night. He kept the lights on and covered the mirror with an old bedsheet. He tried to forget about it. A couple of days passed. No strange figures, no shadowy reflections. Things went back to normal. Jay even convinced himself he imagined it. Then he got a message. It was a text, but from no number. Just a blank contact name and a message: "You looked too long. Now I know your shape." Jay stared at the phone, heart racing. He blocked the number, deleted the message. The next morning, the mirror was uncovered. He knew he covered it. He stood at the end of the hallway, watching it. Just his reflection. Pale, tired. Normal. But then his reflection blinked first. Jay stepped closer. His reflection stepped closer, but just a fraction too slow, like it was copying instead of mirroring. He raised his hand. The reflection raised its, a beat behind. And for just a second, the face in the mirror smiled, even though Jay didn't. He smashed it. He grabbed the nearest thing he could—a broom—and shattered the glass into a hundred sharp pieces. The frame cracked and fell with a dull thud. Jay stood over it, panting. The reflection was gone. That night, he slept better. But in the morning, something was... wrong. When Jay went to brush his teeth, he looked in the bathroom mirror and paused. His reflection blinked too slow. He blinked again. The reflection lagged. Just a little. Not enough to prove, just enough to chill your spine. Jay covered that mirror too. But it didn’t stop. Any reflective surface—his phone screen, the kettle, the window when it was dark outside—they all started to hesitate. He called a friend, asked if he could come stay a few nights. The friend said sure. Jay packed a bag. But as he was leaving, he caught a glimpse of something in the black screen of his TV. A face. Not his. It looked like him. Same eyes. Same mouth. But the smile was too wide. Like it had learned how to smile from watching, not doing. It waved. Jay didn’t go to his friend’s. He turned back inside, trembling, and shut the door. He spent the next week sealing every reflective surface. Aluminum foil. Paint. Tape. He even smashed a few more things. But then he started seeing it anyway. Not in reflections, but just... out the corner of his eye. A glimpse of someone turning the hallway corner as he turned into the hallway. A shadow disappearing behind a door that was locked. And every time, the message came back. "You looked too long. Now I know your shape." He started to forget things. Where he put his keys. Why he went into the kitchen. Friends called, said he sounded weird on the phone. That he talked like someone else. One even came to visit and left after ten minutes. Said Jay "wasn’t Jay." One night, Jay left a note. "If you find this, don’t look in the mirror. Not even once. It’s not me anymore." No one has seen Jay since. His apartment? Still empty. Still has that broken frame leaning against the hallway wall. And the weirdest thing? The mirror—it's whole again. Like nothing ever happened. Some people say if you go there and look into it, you can still see him. Not the real Jay. The other one. Smiling. Waiting. Because here's the thing: You only have to look once. But it always looks back. The End... or maybe the beginning.
By Silas Blackwoodabout a year ago in Horror
The Shadow Figures
There was a positive tranquility that could be felt walking through the woods in the day time. Various song birds could be heard while the occasional breeze ruffled your hair and tickled your skin. It appeared to be just like any other woods one might venture into.
By Jasmine Aguilarabout a year ago in Horror
Christopher. Content Warning.
Christopher. My poor, sweet Christopher. He was telling the truth the entire time. The authorities, believing him to be a madman, threw him in the cold, dark dungeon with nothing to keep him company but his terror. For it was a true terror that he had witnessed. A terror that would have him shaking, screaming and crying while constantly talking with the dungeon walls trying to convince them that the words he spoke were true. In rags he was, dirty and stinking, wasting away to the bone with neither food nor drink and a grotesque, contorted, horrified expression on his face as he incessantly beseeched the walls to believe him.
By Maged Hakeemabout a year ago in Horror
She Vanished from Room 209. I Was the Last One to See Her.
I checked into the Red Pine Inn on a Monday night. A quiet, no-frills hotel off Route 12 in upstate New York. My job required constant travel—sales pitches, meetings, handshakes. Cheap hotels like this one were familiar territory. But Red Pine felt… wrong the moment I stepped in.
By Manisha Jamesabout a year ago in Horror
Teacher's Camp, Baguio: The Philippines' Most Haunted Heritage Site
The Spooky Past and Ghostly Whispers of Baguio, Teachers Camp Perched at Leonard Wood Road in the Philippines' summer capital, Teachers Camp stands on top of a colonial treasure and spine-tingling ghost stories. Its early start in 1908 as an American and Filipino teachers' training camp (most especially the "Thomasites") belies a tempestuous past behind the camp's peaceful exterior which upholds its reputation as the country's most haunted haunt.
By Kyrol Mojikalabout a year ago in Horror
Whispers Beneath the Skin. Content Warning.
Prologue: The Stench of Memory Akira Yamada, 31, lives in a city that swallows souls…. Tokyo is a concrete beast, its lights never dimming, its streets never sleeping. Yet, for all its constant noise, Akira hears something that others cannot—a persistent, nauseating hum that has haunted him since childhood…. It started the night his parents died in a car accident when he was seven. The hum was there, echoing in his skull, growing louder as the police officer whispered that they were gone. It became his only companion, a low frequency that crept into his thoughts, tainting every joyful moment.
By Orin Ashfieldabout a year ago in Horror
Silent Whispers of Titan
In the year 2115, humanity had finally colonized Saturn’s largest moon, Titan. The colony, named Erebus Station, was established beneath the thick ice crust, where vast oceans of liquid methane promised new scientific discoveries. A team of thirty researchers, engineers, and explorers lived and worked in pressurized habitats, pushing the boundaries of human endurance and technology.
By Razu Islam – Lifestyle & Futuristic Writerabout a year ago in Horror
