urban legend
Urban legends have captivated us from ancient eras to the modern day; a deep dive into scary lore and 'could be true' tales about Bigfoot, Slender Man, the Suicide Forest and beyond.
The Mirror at the End of the Hall
M Mehran When Laila’s grandmother passed, she left her an old country house. It was filled with antiques—oak furniture, porcelain dishes, and, in the upstairs hallway, a tall standing mirror with an ornate silver frame. “It’s been in the family for generations,” her mother said when they moved her in. “But don’t cover it. The mirror doesn’t like being hidden.” Laila laughed it off, assuming it was just one of those strange old superstitions. --- Chapter Two: The First Glimpse The first night, Laila noticed something odd. Passing the mirror on her way to bed, she saw herself—only, not quite. Her reflection lingered a half-second too long, blinking slower than she did. She rubbed her eyes. “I’m just tired.” But later, in the dark, she swore she heard faint scratching, as though nails dragged lightly along glass. --- Chapter Three: The Second Reflection The next evening, she returned from work late. As she passed the mirror, she froze. Her reflection was smiling. She wasn’t. The grin stretched wider, unnatural, teeth too sharp. Laila stumbled back, nearly dropping her keys. The image immediately mimicked her, lips pressed tight, innocent again. Her heart hammered. She told herself it was a trick of the light, nerves, imagination—anything but real. --- Chapter Four: The Whisper By the third night, she avoided looking at the mirror. But avoidance didn’t help. As she walked past, a whisper tickled her ear: Laila… She spun around. Empty hall. When she dared glance, her reflection was leaning closer to the glass, lips moving silently. She couldn’t hear the words, but she could see them forming: Let me out. Her stomach dropped. She threw a bedsheet over the mirror, breath ragged. --- Chapter Five: The Warning That night, she dreamed of her grandmother. The old woman stood in the hallway, pointing to the covered mirror. “You can’t hide it,” she said sternly. “It doesn’t forgive being ignored.” When Laila woke, the sheet was crumpled on the floor. The mirror stood bare, polished, waiting. --- Chapter Six: The Bargain Desperate, Laila called her mother. “What’s with the mirror?” she demanded. Her mother was quiet. Finally, she said, “It’s part of the house. Every generation keeps it. It… takes something from us. A piece of us. That’s the price for living here.” Laila’s skin crawled. “What happens if I don’t pay?” Her mother’s voice cracked. “Then it takes everything.” --- Chapter Seven: The Pull The days blurred. The mirror grew harder to resist. Whenever she passed, her reflection beckoned, fingers tapping on the inside of the glass. One night, exhausted, she stopped in front of it. Her reflection tilted its head, grinning, then lifted a hand to the glass. Without thinking, Laila raised hers. The surface rippled under her touch, warm, like skin. And then the reflection grabbed her wrist. --- Chapter Eight: The Trade She screamed, but the glass swallowed the sound. The reflection yanked hard, pulling her arm into the mirror. Her other self’s face twisted with hunger, eyes black as pitch. “No!” Laila shrieked, clawing at the frame. But her strength faltered. The reflection climbed out—her own body, her own face, but wrong. It stepped into the hallway, perfect and smiling, while she was dragged inside. --- Chapter Nine: The Other Side The last thing Laila saw before the glass sealed shut was herself—no, the thing—smoothing her hair, picking up her keys, and walking away. She pounded against the inside of the mirror, but the surface only rippled faintly. Her reflection turned once, smirking, and whispered: Your turn. The house fell silent. --- Epilogue: The Inheritance Continues A month later, neighbors noticed Laila seemed… different. Brighter. Happier. Always smiling. And at night, if you walked past her house and looked closely through the upstairs window, you might see her old reflection. A woman trapped behind the glass, hands pressed against it, mouth opening and closing soundlessly—begging someone, anyone, to let her out. But no one ever does.
By Muhammad Mehranabout a year ago in Horror
Veil of Shadows — The Dark Watchers of the Santa Lucia Mountains
Intro Narration: Figures on the Ridge The sun is dropping low on the California coast, red light bending through a haze of salt air and dry pine. You’re on a winding trail in the Santa Lucia Mountains, a line of switchbacks that seem to fold into each other forever. The silence is deep enough to feel staged... no bird calls, no wind, no trickle of water from the gullies. And then you see it.
By Veil of Shadowsabout a year ago in Horror
The Terminal – Part One
Julian Mercer awoke with a stiff groan, his cheek pressed against the cold wooden slats of a bench. His neck ached as he sat upright, vertebrae popping, the sour taste of sleep heavy in his mouth. The overhead glow of fluorescent bulbs stabbed at his eyes, a sickly yellow glare that made everything look jaundiced and unreal.
By Shehzad Anjumabout a year ago in Horror
he Final Departure Part Three – The Conductor
The Final Departure Part Three – The Conductor Julian sat rigid on the bench, knuckles white around the handle of the suitcase that wasn’t his. The voices of the lost passengers filled the station now—low murmurs, the occasional sob, the dragging thud of ruined bags over stone. None of them looked at him, but he felt swallowed by their presence.
By Shehzad Anjumabout a year ago in Horror
The Final Departure Part Four – The Final Boarding
The sound came first: a grinding roar that shook the walls of the station, vibrating through the steel beams above. Then came the light—two blazing orbs far down the tunnel, cutting through the black like the eyes of some enormous beast.
By Shehzad Anjumabout a year ago in Horror
The Legend of the Bell Witch
The Beginning of the Curse In the early 1800s, the Bell family settled on a quiet farm in Adams, Tennessee. John Bell, the patriarch, worked the land and raised his children in what seemed like an ordinary, peaceful life. But in 1817, something strange began to unfold - events that would grow into one of America’s most infamous hauntings: the legend of the Bell Witch.
By Hassan Janabout a year ago in Horror
The Store at Crescent Villa
At twenty-four, Arman had grown used to silence. The kind of silence that lived not in forests or fields but in neat, carefully drawn streets—rows of houses with trimmed hedges, painted fences, and gates that rarely opened. His was the last house on the crescent, larger than most, with a view of the park that remained unused.
By Shehzad Anjumabout a year ago in Horror
The Creeping Horror of Vietnam: When Soldiers Faced More Than Just the Enemy
When we think of war, images of soldiers, weapons, and battles usually come to mind. But in Vietnam, the battlefield was far more complex. American troops weren’t just fighting the Viet Cong they were also fighting the land itself.
By Izhar Ullahabout a year ago in Horror
The Door That Never Closed
The office building was nearly empty, save for the dim hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional creak of the old elevator shafts. Sarah stood on the top floor, clutching her tote bag like it was a lifeline. Her heart thudded in her chest, each beat a warning she tried to ignore. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to turn back, to leave the building and retreat to the safety of her car. But the email from her manager had been clear: “Retrieve the file from the 13th-floor archive. No excuses.”
By Shehzad Anjumabout a year ago in Horror
