Horror

Escaped at Midnight... AI-Generated.
The clock struck midnight while Amal tightened the straps of her worn backpack. The room become silent except for the faint hum of the generator outside. Her mom’s eyes glistened as she whispered, “It’s time.” Amal nodded, her coronary heart pounding like a drum. this night time was the night time she would go away the entirety at the back of — her domestic, her youth, her united states — looking for freedom.
By The Writer...A_Awan2 months ago in Fiction
Blooming In The Dark:. AI-Generated.
The store seemed handiest at night time. By day, the street became normal—lined with bakeries, tailors, and a pharmacy that smelled faintly of antiseptic. but when the solar dipped underneath the horizon, a slim doorway among two shuttered shops discovered itself. A signal hung above it, painted in fading gold letters: Blooming inside the dark.
By The Writer...A_Awan2 months ago in Fiction
The Ceasefire That Didn’t Hold
The Ceasefire That Didn’t Hold For three days, the border had been filled with fire, smoke, and fear. Then the ceasefire came — a thin thread of hope, fragile like glass. For the first time in seventy-two hours, the guns went quiet. Families returned from camps. Soldiers stepped back from their positions. Reporters lowered their cameras.
By Wings of Time 2 months ago in Fiction
Journal entries of the Wolf-man . Content Warning.
Ded Moone’s Peregrination Introduce yourself, I guess, Night 1: A frenzied, radical move of lunacy during a moment of lucidity, but friends and family miss the dark for their best interest. With a track record of putrid half-measures focused on the financial debacles I can’t be blamed for despite the epic effort, I must say to that and all this, fuck’em. They are long aware of the cost/savings benefits of avoiding the lifetime hardship of holding firm against the disruptive acts they’ve given up trying to explain to first responders, friends, in-laws. This is respecting my cousin’s shrug and smile when I was last wheeled to the psych ward from the main lobby during some one-man natural disaster while trying to keep me away from your lives. I appreciate her silent candor, nestled in a refusal to respond to the question vocally once I pleaded my case, not a one-for-one; is it worth the gas money anymore? Nurse Jackie genuinely means well with ‘come back soon,’ layered with overbearing subtext for her devotion to patients, avoiding the sobering alternative, like, for instance, that my legs are delightfully, currently dangling over, so we had a good last run. No more power-ups after Black-Hawk-Downs at terminal velocity if I miss the other freeways. It’s, in a fashion, an attempt to fight the very notion of wind in favor of landing in the shadowiest section of an unlit road leading under Pocahontas Parkway. I saw it one trip heading to the Tar Heel State for a lecture. Can't say it wasn't gaudy, reaching out over that Potomac, I think, but I took note of it all the same on the drive back north. What a beautiful view, last or otherwise. A powerful end, one splat to resend all wasted energies to a greedy Earth with fallen angelic wings of flaming middle fingers—wait, wait, what am I doing—why the hell am I doing it this way?! I’m a god damn stamp on this putrid State rationality of what widens our perspectives naturally in regard to death and its role in the human psyche. I’m a fucking explorer of the damned, the feared unknown--I’m a god damn MAN! I gotta go, that's certain. This is the experiment of a lifetime, and I’m wasting it on a bridge jump in the dark alone? Symbolism over the race to see the unknowable—Geez, Fuck these nightmares! I might’ve missed the synchronized opportunity of my…
By Willem Indigo2 months ago in Fiction
'𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔊𝔩𝔞𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔤
Introduction I found this image on Fairy Sightings & Encounters here, and this has a tale of a Glastig, mine is based on the picture:
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 2 months ago in Fiction
THE SKIN WE SHARE: THE CO-PILOT
The Tenant The first week in Alex’s body was a brutal, blindingly ecstatic honeymoon. Eli didn't just walk; he glided. He reveled in the simple, profound miracles his new form effortlessly performed. He spent hours simply running his hands over smooth, firm skin, a surface no longer mapped by the frantic, humiliating tremors of Huntington's. He would stand under a cold shower, luxuriating in the sensation of water hitting a resilient, responsive form. He ran through a damp city park at dawn, the chilled wind a cool, intoxicating benediction against his face, his lungs drawing deep, clean breaths without a single, tell-tale rattle. His body was a perfect machine, and Eli was drunk on its vitality.
By Wellova 2 months ago in Fiction
The Door That Knew My Name
The first time the phone rang at two in the morning, I thought it was a prank. The second time, I ignored it. The third — the one that splintered my sleep and sat me upright with the taste of rust in my mouth — was different. The voice on the other end didn't waste words.
By Marko2 months ago in Fiction
Charisse. Top Story - November 2025.
The train hissed into Oradea like a serpent exhaling secrets. Elara Moranu stepped down, gloved hand clutching the parcel that had arrived weeks ago. No return address, only a crimson wax seal and a name written in calligraphic blood: Casa Moranu.
By Sai Marie Johnson2 months ago in Fiction
Unblinking
Shadows crept along the length of the bus as the vehicle moved through the back streets of the city passing under flickering streetlights. Tiredness swept across Adam, who wanted nothing more than to sleep after another 12-hour shift, his sixth in a row, but he feared that he would miss his stop and extend an already long day.
By John Watson2 months ago in Fiction
When the Bones are Good
The door was heavier than I remembered, but the hinges were weak with rust. I leaned in, my body pressed up against the frame and shoved. I stumbled into the room clumsily, gripping the knob still so as not to crash down to the floor. There were tiles missing in the linoleum, and the white, floral white paper had taken on a dingy yellow stain.
By Theresa M Hochstine2 months ago in Fiction
The Night the River Took the Moon. AI-Generated.
The villagers of Keshari Bend still whisper about the night the river swallowed the moon. Not the real moon — no one is foolish enough to believe that —
By shakir hamid2 months ago in Fiction
Halloween House Party (10). Content Warning.
Chapter 10: Slowly I’m pulled from whatever dark abyss I was dropped into, my head throbbing with each shift of movement, even blinking is likely to have me passing out.
By 𝓗. 𝓒. 𝓡𝓾𝓫𝔂2 months ago in Fiction