Wellova

Joined July 2025

88 stories

Bio

I am [Wellova], a horror writer who finds fear in silence and shadows. My stories reveal unseen presences, whispers in the dark, and secrets buried deep—reminding readers that fear is never far, sometimes just behind a door left unopened.

Stories (88)

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The House on Black Hollow Road
On the outskirts of rural Bavaria lay a house the locals never mentioned. It stood on Black Hollow Road, hidden behind gnarled oaks, its roof sagging and its windows like dead eyes. Generations ago, a family lived there—until, one winter, every member disappeared without a trace. The house had been left to rot ever since. Travelers who wandered too close spoke of lights flickering in the upper windows, though no one had lived there in over a century.
By Wellova 4 months ago in Fiction
The Bells of Saint Aurelia
The village of Drovnik, tucked deep within the Carpathian hills, was the kind of place travelers passed through quickly. Its cobbled streets wound between stone houses, their roofs sagging with age, and at the highest point of the village stood the ruined church of Saint Aurelia. No one prayed there anymore. Its bell tower had long collapsed, leaving only the shattered walls and a hollow archway that locals avoided at all costs.
By Wellova 4 months ago in Fiction
The Room with No Windows
When Farhan moved into the old house his uncle had left him, he thought of it as a blessing. The house stood at the edge of town, its walls cracked but sturdy, its wooden floors creaking under each step. It needed repairs, but it felt like a place where he could finally be alone and focus on his writing. Everyone in town warned him about the house, muttering that no one had stayed there long. He laughed it off. Old people and their ghost stories, he thought.
By Wellova 4 months ago in Fiction
The Knock in the Alley
It was nearly midnight when Arif turned into the narrow alley that led to his house. The rest of the village was silent, wrapped in the kind of stillness that only comes after a long day of rain. The air smelled of damp earth and wet stone, and every step he took caused the mud to squish beneath his sandals. He lifted the small lantern in his hand higher, shielding the flame with his palm. The weak glow trembled, throwing shaky shadows across the mud-plastered walls that lined both sides of the alley. Those shadows stretched and curled in unnatural ways, as if they were alive and watching him.
By Wellova 4 months ago in Fiction

Wellova

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The House on Black Hollow Road

The Bells of Saint Aurelia

The Room with No Windows

The Knock in the Alley

Stories (88)