supernatural

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

Shadows of the Betrayer. AI-Generated.
The day the Queen vanished, the river began to flow backward. That morning, as the first rays of sunlight touched the surface of the Silvermere River, an unsettling sight unfolded. The river, which usually flowed gently toward the eastern sea, now surged in reverse, as though some invisible force were pulling it back. The water raced upriver, toward the heart of the enchanted forest and its dark, secretive source—Darkmoon Lake. Villagers along the riverbank dropped their tools and stood motionless, eyes wide with fear. Birds scattered, their cries swallowed by the ominous rumble of the river.
By nora2 years ago in Horror
The Ghost in Room 314
Emma Hartley was a woman of routine. She was 52 years old, but for her most of life had been spent as the high school librarian of the small town of Bramble Creek. Most of her days she spent amidst books, a quiet comfort that reflected her quiet existence. Five years had passed since her husband's death. Emma's life had followed a predictable rhythm: work, home, the occasional cup of tea with a neighbour and weekend outings in the park nearby where she'd sit under an oak with a novel.
By Usman Zafar2 years ago in Horror
My Inner Chaos
The air hung thick and heavy, laden with the scent of damp earth and something else, something acrid and metallic. The old Victorian house groaned under the weight of its secrets, its once grand facade crumbling like a forgotten memory. Inside, Amelia paced, her fingers drumming a nervous rhythm on the mahogany railing of the grand staircase. She could almost feel the house itself breathing, its ancient timbers creaking in a mournful symphony.
By Quoialynn Anderson2 years ago in Horror
The Black Mist
Thick mist crawled out of the Hagener Forest, a harbinger of doom that hung over the village of Woldenhorn. The leaves rustled in the icy autumn wind of 1623, whispering like the voices of lost souls. The men dragged a frail woman, wrapped in rags, across the muddy ground, which gurgled under their heavy boots.
By Christian Bass2 years ago in Horror
MILLERS HOUSE
They called it the Miller House, the old abandoned mansion at the edge of town, left to rot for decades. Every Halloween, the stories would resurface: strange sounds, flickering lights, sightings of shadows. Some said Old Man Miller never really left; he just... stayed, watching. One damp October evening, curiosity got the best of me. Armed with only a flashlight, I walked down the deserted road until the house loomed into view, casting a sinister shadow across the ground. The air felt thick, oppressive, as if it didn’t want me there. I slipped through the rusted gate, its hinges groaning as if to warn me to turn back. The front door was slightly ajar, and as I pushed it open, a faint smell of decay drifted out, mingling with the musty air. The flashlight beam cut through the dark, illuminating cracked walls and peeling wallpaper. I moved through the hall, my footsteps muffled by dust so thick it almost felt like stepping through fog. As I crept deeper into the house, I noticed odd details. A dining table, still set with dusty plates and silverware, as if someone had left in the middle of a meal. The faint sound of a grandfather clock ticking somewhere, though I hadn’t seen one in any of the rooms. And then... something colder. I felt a strange heaviness around me, as though the shadows themselves were creeping closer. A door stood at the end of the hallway, slightly open, with a narrow staircase leading up to the attic. I don’t know what possessed me, but I had to go up there. My heart thundered in my chest as I climbed, the narrow walls seeming to close in around me with every step. At the top, I found myself facing an old mirror, covered with a thin, stained cloth. I took a shaky breath and pulled the cloth away. In the dim light, my reflection looked back. But it wasn’t quite... right. My face in the mirror was twisted, as if caught in a silent scream. I felt an unbearable chill creeping through my bones, but my body was frozen, unable to move. Then, slowly, my reflection’s mouth began to move, whispering something too low to hear. I strained to listen. The words grew louder, and I realized they were coming from behind me. I spun around, my flashlight flickering, but there was nothing there—just empty space, still and silent. When I looked back at the mirror, my reflection was gone. In its place, there was only darkness, a yawning void that seemed to pull at me, urging me to step closer. Against my will, I found myself reaching out. The closer I got, the colder the air became, until frost began to form on the mirror’s edge, creeping inward like icy fingers. Then, just as my hand was inches away, something pulled me back. I stumbled, gasping for air. I scrambled to my feet, but as I turned to flee, I heard a soft, raspy voice whisper in my ear, "You shouldn’t have come here." I bolted down the stairs, but the layout of the house had changed. Hallways twisted in ways they hadn’t before, and doors appeared where they hadn’t been, leading to rooms I didn’t recognize. My breaths came in short, panicked gasps, and the shadows seemed to grow darker, thicker, surrounding me like a web. Finally, I reached the front door, but when I threw it open, all I found was another room, its walls lined with mirrors. In each reflection, I saw myself, but twisted, distorted, each version of me staring with wide, terrified eyes. And then, one by one, they began to move, stepping out of the mirrors, coming toward me with outstretched hands, reaching, grabbing. My own face, my own voice, whispering in unison, "Stay with us." The last thing I remember was my own cold hands closing around my throat. --- I woke up outside the house, lying in the overgrown yard as dawn broke. I tried to stand, my body aching, but as I glanced at my reflection in the broken window beside me, my heart stopped. My reflection smiled back—a wide, twisted grin that I hadn’t made. Some nights, I still see it. In every mirror, every window. That crooked, unholy grin, watching, waiting.
By Ajay2 years ago in Horror
Monsters: "The Match Game"
Ashley Laurence is one of those actresses I can't stop looking at. Maybe it's because I'm a HUGE fan of the original Hellraiser (directed by horror auteur and author Clive Barker) but her expressive fearful eyes and general demeanor are an incredible cinematic turn-on. At least they were in the 1980s.
By Tom Baker2 years ago in Horror
Escaping the Curse . Top Story - November 2024.
He walks through the door, a smile lopsided on his face, his cheeks slightly red. Perhaps it’s the cold, perhaps it’s the long afternoon spent in the garage. He had been loud before, quite loud. His green eyes flash bright, like his teeth. His curls are messy, streaked with grease and kissing his forehead. Internally, I flinch. Familiar chords pluck in my chest in a painful pinch. But, not him, never. He’s not afflicted with the same curse as my parents, as many are. I was careful in my choosing.
By Laura Lann2 years ago in Horror
The Drowned Hollow
In the village of Sable Creek, nestled between hills that seemed to swallow the sky, there was a dark legend—one that had been whispered about by the elders for generations. It was a tale that no one dared to speak of after sunset, for fear that speaking its name would summon its horrors. The legend spoke of the Drowned Hollow, a place where the very earth had swallowed whole families, their cries lost to the thick mist that crept from the depths of the marsh. No one in the village had ever ventured near it. That was, until Mia.
By Parth Bharatvanshi2 years ago in Horror
The Portrait in the Attic
When Clara moved into her new home, she was excited. It was the kind of house that had character—old wooden floors that creaked underfoot, large windows that let in streams of sunlight, and an attic that had always fascinated her. The house had been uninhabited for years, and Clara couldn’t understand why. She found it charming, perfect for the fresh start she needed after a turbulent breakup.
By Parth Bharatvanshi2 years ago in Horror
The Living Doorway
When Marta’s father passed away, he left her the family’s old summer house on the outskirts of a forgotten town. She remembered it vaguely from her childhood—a sprawling, weathered mansion set against an endless forest. Her father had often warned her never to visit alone. As an adult, she thought little of his caution, chalking it up to superstition. But there was something compelling her to return. The house had always held mysteries, memories she couldn’t quite piece together.
By Parth Bharatvanshi2 years ago in Horror
Silent Wards, Restless Spirits: The Haunting of Pohang Hospital
Pohang Hospital, coordinated in the waterfront city of Pohang in South Korea, stays as perhaps of the most popular tormented area in the country. Regardless of what its unobtrusively unpretentious outside, Pohang Hospital has gained notoriety for the dreadful air and chilling experiences point by point by guests all through the long stretch. The development, at this point deserted and breaking down, holds a rich history of expected paranormal turn of events and is viewed as where spirits and disturbing existences hold on.
By Kyrol Mojikal2 years ago in Horror
The Storage on the 5th Floor
I had never believed in ghosts. That was before I had stepped into this damned hostel. I'm sure you are also someone who doesn't believe in the supernatural, and I pray you keep accepting that because when reality strikes, things turn ugly.
By Simran Daniel2 years ago in Horror