Horror

Some Rooms Are Best Forgotten
In 1989 on the Kola Peninsula of Russia. at the Kola Superdeep Borehole a drill operated by human beings descended to a depth (40, 230 feet, approximately 7.6 miles) that had never been reached before and has not been returned to since. The humans operating the drill did not go to the bottom, the extreme heat 180°C (356°F) made that impossible. In fact, no human being has ever descended underground beyond approximately 2.5 miles. However, some equipment, including a heat hardened video camera containing a 90 minute VHS tape was lowered to the final depth. Reportedly it captured images of rock behaving something like plastic, oozing, twisting, convulsing and turning in and over on itself like the inside of a can of paint when mixed with a drill mixer. The VHS tape containing this purported footage mysteriously disappeared shortly after it was returned to the surface and only the verbal accounts of the two men who watched it survived. Those two men Sergi and Ivan Ivanov, Soviet engineers and brothers were found dead in 1992, apparently of suicide. A handwritten note was found with the bodies which contained a detailed description of the exact method that would be used. Sergi was to shoot Ivan in the head first. Then he was to gather up the various bits and pieces of his brother's skull and brain and bury them, but not his body, in an unmarked grave behind their home. Once that was complete he was to hang himself from the rafters. The police discovered them dead about a month later when their neighbors called authorities complaining of a terrible smell emanating from the Ivanov home.
By Everyday Junglist4 months ago in Fiction
The Bells of Saint Aurelia
In the quiet hills of southern France stood the ruins of Saint Aurelia’s Abbey. Long ago, it was a place of prayer and devotion, its bells famous across the valleys for their rich, beautiful chime. Villagers said the monks timed their lives by those bells—the rising of the sun, the call to prayer, the solemn toll for the dead. But one stormy night in 1624, the bells rang louder than ever before. The next morning, not a single monk remained. Their beds were empty, their robes neatly folded, as if they had stepped out of their lives and vanished into thin air. The bells fell silent, and for four centuries no one dared to ring them again.
By Wellova 4 months ago in Fiction
The Night of Screams
The village of Dargahpur had always been a quiet corner of the world. Tucked between green hills and thick forests, it was the kind of place where time moved slowly. Life was simple: men worked in the fields, women gathered at the well, and children played barefoot in the dust. For generations, peace ruled here. The biggest excitement was the endless chain of gossip.
By Muhammad yar4 months ago in Fiction
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
A desperate plea from the elves
They are the invisible workers. They are the unheard of workers. They are the workers who toil night and day above the Arctic Circle who work for Santa making toys for children all over the world for that one special day of the year.
By Alan Russell4 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
Hoag’s Object. Runner-Up in Through the Keyhole Challenge.
I had gotten used to the eyes, one after the other, peering constantly through the jagged remains of where a peephole once sat. Stranger’s trying to catch a glimpse of the accused until: This eye, this very eye in particular, that stared with a deep hatred burning into my soul. I knew this red-gold-hazel iris that lit up a room like fire. She was the reason I would be locked in this cabin, a prisoner, until our arrival in Pteetneet City. This is where the proper authorities would step in to arrest me.
By Amos Glade4 months ago in Fiction
Finding out about an affair through the Ouija Board
Characters: Linda: A 16-year-old girl wearing rose-printed pajamas. Samantha: A 36-year-old ghost. Scene: Linda’s bedroom, 11:00 PM. A full moon glows through the window, casting silver shadows across the room. Linda sits cross-legged on the floor, a flashlight shining over the Ouija board.
By Diani Alvarenga4 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
A Knock at the Door
Thump, thump, thump ….. Maggie knew that sound and her blood ran cold. He was here again. She hesitated before starting toward the door. Knowing she would find nothing but a pile of rib bones on her porch, she chose again to acknowledge his knock. The door was old and rusty and creaked accordingly as she slowly opened it.
By Barbara Gode Wiles4 months ago in Fiction
Duress.
I had gone to bed. The lights were off, my tablet and phone charging on the nightstand, hair tucked under my bonnet. My midnight prayer had left me calm, the night folding around me like a familiar blanket. Outside, the city hummed softly, oblivious to the small apartment perched above the street.
By Test4 months ago in Fiction