fiction
Horror fiction that delivers on its promise to scare, startle, frighten and unsettle. These stories are fake, but the shivers down your spine won't be.
The Voice at the Door
The rain was a steady, mournful rhythm against the windows, a soundtrack to the oppressive silence inside our small cottage. Three days. It had been three days since we’d buried my mother, Clara. Three days since her vibrant laughter, her comforting presence, had been reduced to a cold, sterile memory. The grief was a physical weight, pressing down on my chest, making every breath an effort.
By Noman Afridi7 months ago in Horror
“The Secret Room My Landlord Never Told Me About”
When I first moved into Apartment 3B on Halstead Street, I thought I'd found the deal of a lifetime. Two bedrooms, high ceilings, vintage windows, and a view that didn’t face another brick wall. It was oddly affordable, the kind of place that makes you pause and think, "What's the catch?"
By Hamad Haider7 months ago in Horror
The Sleep Recorder.
I’ve always been a bit of a data junkie. I track my steps, my heart rate, my screen time—all in the name of self-optimization. So, when I found "Somnus," a sleek new sleep-tracking app, I downloaded it instantly. The interface was clean, the promises were grand: it would analyze my sleep cycles, identify disturbances, and record any nocturnal sounds to give me a complete picture of my rest. For the first two weeks, it was boringly brilliant. It produced clean graphs of my REM cycles and a few pathetic audio clips of my own snoring. It was exactly what I wanted: predictable, sterile data.
By MUHAMMAD FARHAN7 months ago in Horror
The Stranger Who Knew My Name—And My Darkest Secret
The Stranger Who Knew My Name—And My Darkest Secret Some encounters feel like fate. Others feel like punishment. I remember the exact moment he sat down. The 7:43 p.m. train from the city was half-empty, the type of quiet that feels like a lullaby after a draining day. My earbuds were in, and the low hum of the carriage made everything feel distant—until he spoke.
By Muhammad Sabeel7 months ago in Horror
The Soundproof Room
At the end of the upstairs hallway, just past the crooked family portraits and the dusty linen closet, stood a door no one ever opened. It was painted a pale yellow once, but time and silence had faded it into something closer to bone. No one in the family talked about the room behind it. Not directly. When Sophie had asked her mother about it at age seven, she’d been met with a tight smile and a change of subject.
By Ahmad shah7 months ago in Horror
