Horror

The Room With No Window – Part 6
The town of Hallowmere had learned to forget. They boarded the house long ago, paved the street, and renamed the block so that no one would remember where it stood. But stories have a way of surviving, even when walls crumble and people disappear.
By Wellova 4 months ago in Fiction
ATomorrow’s Message
1. The Envelope That Shouldn’t Exist It was 2:47 a.m. when Ethan Miller was awakened by a soft knock at his door. The sound was so precise—three gentle taps—that it pulled him instantly from sleep.
By Iazaz hussain4 months ago in Fiction
Knock at Midnight
The first knock came just as the clock struck twelve. Three soft raps — tap, tap, tap — steady and patient. I froze. Midnight visitors weren’t a thing in our neighborhood. The only sounds at that hour were the hum of the refrigerator and the wind scratching at the old wooden shutters. My husband was away on a business trip, and even the dog had started snoring on the couch.
By Iazaz hussain4 months ago in Fiction
The Room With No Window – Part 5
For years, the boarding house remained untouched—a silent shell of wood and dust, sealed behind caution tape. Locals whispered that no one should go near it after dark. But eventually, the city council ordered it torn down. To them, it was just another forgotten ruin.
By Wellova 4 months ago in Fiction
The Last Prayer of Rahim
There’s a small village at the edge of nowhere — the kind of place where time moves slowly, and people remember everything. That’s where Rahim lived.
By Vocal Member 4 months ago in Fiction
The Invitation
Eliza’s Account It was the knocking that woke me — disruptive, persistent. I wondered who it could be … and what time it was. I checked my phone: 2:11 A.M. … no messages … no missed calls.
By Marcellus Grey4 months ago in Fiction
Behold, I Stand at the Door. Honorable Mention in A Knock at the Door Challenge.
There it is again, that distinct sound of a knock at the door. I would probably find that less disconcerting if I knew where the door is. Forget who’s standing on the other side of it. There’s not one anywhere I can see. And I can see a long way in every direction.
By Randy Wayne Jellison-Knock4 months ago in Fiction
Roadkill
No one else in the room seemed to notice of this I am sure but the pounding at the front door continued. It was sporadic. There would be pelts against the windowpane which was high above one’s visual field on the old wooden door. Then there would be silence.
By C. H. Richard4 months ago in Fiction
Secret Knock. Content Warning.
Rap. Tap. Rappity-tappity-tap. Rap. Tap. Caleb freezes at the all too familiar sound. He knows that knock. That is no knock of a stranger or a friendly neighbor popping by to introduce themselves. That knock does not belong here on his new door, in this new town, or in this world. That knock should have died that night along with everything else.
By A. J. Schoenfeld4 months ago in Fiction
The Knock. Honorable Mention in A Knock at the Door Challenge.
Gray hairs line the sink as I yank another from my chin. “Where the hell do these things come from?” I ask myself rhetorically. It’s like every time I turn around there’s one here or one there. Found on my chest the other day. Pesky lil things. Now that all the grays are gone, an image of a pot-bellied version of myself stares at me in the mirror. Geez when did that happen? I suck in my gut to remind myself I can still have my college physique if I wanted to. I’ll go to the gym tomorrow, as for now, there’s work to be done.
By Kenneth Boutte4 months ago in Fiction
Someone Knocking
It all started with a knock on the door. A simple, everyday occurrence... except that it was the middle of the night during a howling gale, and the nearest house or road was over a mile away. (A deliberate choice; some neighbours are better at a distance) There should be no reason for someone to be knocking.
By Natasja Rose4 months ago in Fiction
Remember Your Childhood Bedroom!. Content Warning.
Imagination in childhood is powerful. For a short time, it shapes our lives but how we loose it.. I remember waking up in my bedroom, colours bursting all around me, toys of every shape and size waiting to be played with. Big smiles, bold eyes, and bright creatures greeted me each morning. Back then, even the smallest things seemed huge and magical.
By Cryptic Edwards4 months ago in Fiction