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.
"Waking Into Darkness"
--- It started on a cold, silent night. My chest tightened, my breath turned shallow, and my voice faded to a whisper. Alone in my apartment, the darkness closed in until everything went black. I thought I had died. But I awoke in a strange forest, beneath a sickly green sky. The trees were barren, their twisted limbs like claws. The silence pressed in, heavy and unnatural. Shadows darted through the trees, whispers slithered through the air. I was being watched. Driven by instinct, I walked. Eventually, I came to a crooked bridge over a river of black water. A pale figure in a tattered cloak waited on the other side. He silently raised his arm and pointed behind me. I turned—and saw a monstrous creature of shadow and flame. Its voice didn’t enter through my ears but pressed into my thoughts: “You have crossed into the realm of the forgotten.” I ran. I sprinted through darkness until I collapsed. The earth beneath me cracked open, and I fell—through layers of time, voices, and screams—before landing hard in a new nightmare. Now I was in a fleshy hallway with pulsing walls and flickering lights. The air reeked of rot. At the end was a door... my apartment door. Inside, everything looked normal. But the TV screen reflected silent figures standing behind me. I turned. Nothing. Then the TV switched on. A news anchor’s voice: “The young man who died last night was buried today. Neighbors report strange occurrences.” My picture flashed on the screen. I touched my face—cold. My breath left no fog. I screamed. Then I woke up. In my bed. Safe. Breathing. Just a dream. Or so I thought—until I saw fingerprints outside my window. My door, which I’d locked, was ajar. A shadow shifted in the corner. I tried to dismiss it as sleep paralysis. I even called a friend. He laughed—until he glanced into the dark corner. His expression changed instantly. “Who lives with you now?” he whispered. “Please tell me you didn’t actually die.” He left in a panic, refusing to explain. That night, I didn’t sleep. The shadow moved along the walls, lights failed, my phone died. My TV showed my funeral—mourners walking past my coffin as I watched from the couch. Again, I screamed. No one heard. Then I woke up. Again. Now I was on a train. The passengers sat frozen, staring forward. I asked where we were going. No one answered. Outside the window: the same dead forest. The same crooked bridge. We were going back. Then it clicked. Each time I “woke up,” I was still dreaming—or sinking deeper into something else. Each layer peeled reality away. Finally, I awoke once more—in a coffin. The lid creaked open to reveal my apartment ceiling. I sat up, gasping. And I realized the truth. I had never really woken up. Maybe I never would. Or maybe… I was still dead. ---
By Nasir Khanabout a year ago in Horror
The Hourglass of Hollow Earth
Chapter 1: The Descent That Shouldn’t Have Happened Hunedoara, Romania – April 3, 2024 The earthquake was soft...too soft to warrant panic. It barely nudged the antique chandeliers in Corvin Castle, caused only the gentlest ripple in the moat below. Tourists paused their photos. Locals exchanged uneasy glances, then carried on sipping their țuică and talking about politics.
By Tales That Breathe at Nightabout a year ago in Horror
My landlord knew what items I had in my bedroom. I never met my landlord in person
When I was 18, I was desperate to find a place to stay for university. There is a massive housing shortage where I live so I went on Facebook to find a room. Eventually a man from Egypt Dmmed me saying that he has a private room available. He told me that he moved back to Egypt due to being ill and decided to rent out his 3 bedroom house. He had no profile picture or any info on his profile other than his name.
By sagar dhitalabout a year ago in Horror
Fremantle Prison: Australia’s Most Haunted Fortress of Shadows
Fremantle Prison: Ominous Traces of Australia's Penal Colony Past In Fremantle, Western Australia's port city, the Fremantle Prison stands as a chilling reminder of Australia's colonial past and a breeding ground for paranormal phenomena. Constructed in 1855 by British convict prisoners who were sent to Australia, the prison operated for 136 years until its closure in 1991. Currently, its limestone walls, soaked in pain, riots, and executions, have it labeled one of Australia's scariest places to visit.
By Kyrol Mojikalabout a year ago in Horror
Do Jinns Really Exist? A Mysterious Tale from My Village
Growing up in a quiet village nestled between fields and forests in rural Pakistan, I often heard stories about supernatural beings. My grandmother used to speak of “jinns” with a mix of fear and respect. “They live among us,” she would whisper while lighting an oil lamp, “especially near the old shrine after sunset.” Like most children, I was both curious and skeptical. That changed one summer night. It was the summer of 2007. Electricity was unreliable, and nights were usually lit by lanterns and the soft glow of the moon. My cousin Bilal and I were staying over at our aunt’s home on the far edge of the village. Her house was close to an abandoned well and an old, neglected shrine—both places villagers avoided after dark. That evening, we decided to go for a walk after dinner. It was unusually humid, and the air felt heavy, almost unnatural. As we walked along the dusty path, Bilal dared me to take a shortcut through the field behind the shrine. It was the path the elders always warned us about, claiming strange voices were often heard there. I laughed it off. “We’re grown up now. These are just stories to scare kids,” I said confidently. Bilal grinned, and we took the path. At first, it was quiet—almost too quiet. The sound of crickets had disappeared. The wind had stilled. The trees stood like statues, motionless and observing. As we walked further, I felt a strange chill, even though it was a hot summer night. Then, it happened. We both heard it at the same time—a whisper. Faint, broken, almost like someone calling out from a distance, “Aaao…” We froze. "Did you hear that?" I whispered. "Yes," Bilal replied, his voice trembling. We looked around. No one was there. No footprints, no rustling, nothing. Just the sound again—closer now, more clear—"Aaao… mere paas..." My legs stiffened. I grabbed Bilal’s arm, and we turned around. That’s when we saw it. By the old tree near the shrine, stood a tall, shadowy figure. Its body seemed to flicker like smoke, and it had no face—just two glowing eyes. It wasn’t walking—it was gliding. Slowly. Toward us. I couldn't speak. My body wouldn't move. Bilal finally shouted, "RUN!" and we took off, stumbling, falling, and getting back up. We didn’t look back. We ran until we saw the lights of our aunt’s home and burst inside, panting and terrified. Our aunt looked at us, concerned. “You two went near the shrine, didn’t you?” she asked firmly. We nodded, shaking. She made us sit, gave us water, and whispered a prayer. Then she said something I still remember vividly: “Never doubt what you don’t understand. Some things are not meant to be seen, and some paths are not meant to be walked.” That night, I didn’t sleep. For weeks, Bilal and I avoided that part of the village. The figure we saw—whether real or imagined—haunted us. And we were not the only ones. Later, we discovered that others had seen it too. Some villagers believed it was a guardian jinn of the shrine. Others claimed it was a cursed soul trapped between worlds. Years have passed, and I now live in the city. But every time I visit my village and walk by that old shrine, I feel that same heaviness in the air. The same silence. The same chill. And I wonder… Was it a jinn? Was it fear playing tricks on young minds? Or was it something beyond explanation? I no longer laugh at the old stories. I listen. And I remember. Because in our village, even today, when night falls and the wind stops, the whisper still returns: "Aaao… mere paas..."
By Tahir Mehmoodabout a year ago in Horror
The House That Hums
I never believed in haunted houses. That was the kind of thing people whispered about in old diners or posted on forums with usernames like “GhostHunter88” and “DeadInside13.” I believed in creaky pipes, bad wiring, and wind howling through gaps in the roof. That was before I moved into the house on Brookmere Lane.
By Muhammad Hakimiabout a year ago in Horror
You died today, what will happen next? Have you ever thought about it?
You Died Today: What Happens Next? The final time you shut your eyes was now. The world you knew—the voices, the light, the laughter, the worries—all slipped away like a dream fading at dawn. Despite the fact that your body is still, you are aware. And now the journey begins. A journey every human must take. The journey of the soul.
By Dr Sazidul about a year ago in Horror
What would it be like if you saw someone else lying next to you in your sleep in the middle of the night?
When I got the new job, no one was happy. My mother said, “Don’t do this job, it’s not good to play with people’s deaths.” The people in the neighborhood laughed, and some whispered behind my back, “This boy has become a dom!”
By Ratul Shrikhabout a year ago in Horror
