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 Haunted Tower of London: Dark History, Ghost Stories, and Royal Tragedies
For almost a thousand years, the Tower of London has loomed along the River Thames as one of the most recognized—and spookiest—sites in the United Kingdom. Originally constructed by William the Conqueror in the 11th century, the Tower was first and foremost a fortress designed to secure Norman domination of England. However, as the Tower grew and matured as a structure and as a symbol of British history, it would come to serve many purposes simultaneously— royal residence, prison, treasury, armory, and even site of execution—no wonder it is associated with so many stories of ghosts and otherworldly experiences.
By Kyrol Mojikal13 days ago in Horror
The Puddle Gaze
The rain was a cold, insistent slap against Finn’s face the moment he pushed through the swinging doors of the diner. Ten hours of frying grease and fake smiles, and this was his reward. The city was a slick, dark beast, its asphalt skin glistening under the jagged scars of neon light. Blues, reds, sickening greens. Everything blurred, everything bled into everything else, especially in the puddles.
By HAADI15 days ago in Horror
I'm Sad We Will Never Get a Rated - R Jurassic Park
I recently started reading the Jurassic Park book, that I had no idea existed. I only read a couple of chapters, and now I'm so sad that we are never going to get a Rated - R Jurassic Park. The book starts off so strong, and I couldn't believe how violent these deaths were.
By Emy Quinn15 days ago in Horror
Whispers from the Winter Shadows: A Ghostly Egyptian Tale
When Winter Awakens the Dead Winter in Egypt is unlike anywhere else in the world. While the country is often associated with blazing suns and golden deserts, winter brings a different kind of magic—one filled with silence, mist, and shadows that seem to whisper forgotten secrets.
By olxia10 16 days ago in Horror
The Azure Hunger
Arthur’s life was gray, mostly. A gray cubicle, gray spreadsheets, the gray light of a damp morning commute. He liked it that way, orderly, predictable. Then came the faintest tickle, a phantom note, whenever he caught sight of the delivery guy’s bright blue uniform, or the endless scroll of a Facebook feed. Not a flavor, not really, more like an impression, a cold, dry whisper on the back of his tongue, like metal left out in winter. He’d blink, swallow, dismiss it as one of those weird fleeting sensations, a leftover ghost from breakfast, maybe. But it kept happening. Blue, then that taste.
By HAADI16 days ago in Horror
The Overlook Never Existed
The Overlook Never Existed: Jack Torrance and the Horror of Consciousness Without Agency Introduction Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining is widely discussed as a masterpiece of psychological horror, yet its true terror lies not in ghosts or haunted halls, but in the very nature of Jack Torrance’s existence. Traditional readings suggest the Overlook Hotel is a supernatural trap that corrupts Jack, Wendy, and Danny. However, a closer examination reveals a far darker possibility: the hotel does not exist. Jack is brain-dead or otherwise unalive, and everything the film presents is a narrative generated by his own mind, compelling him to live and write a story that he can never escape.
By K-jay17 days ago in Horror
The Glass Petals
The woods had always been a good place to get lost. Silas preferred it that way. The city was a clamor, a relentless gnawing at his nerves, and the quiet of the pines, the rot of fallen leaves, that was his peace. Or what passed for it these days. His boots crunched through brittle undergrowth, a familiar, comforting sound, each step further from the ghost of his last mistake, his last broken promise. The sun, a pale, watery disc, struggled to penetrate the dense canopy, casting long, distorted shadows that stretched and swayed like grasping fingers.
By HAADI17 days ago in Horror
I Believe We Will Get One Major Death in the Finale of Stranger Things
I have predicted multiple deaths in the final season of Stranger Things, but I think there is one death that could be the only death in the final episode of the popular TV show.
By Emy Quinn17 days ago in Horror
The Echoing Asylum of Silaos: Where the Patients Never Left | SEASON 2
Chapter 7 FATHER ELIAS’S JOURNAL: Entry 3: The Queen is not a demon, but a soul. A very angry, very vengeful soul. She is the mother of the asylum. Her spirit, and her profound grief, is what has been feeding on the patients' madness. She is what has been devouring them. She is the keeper of the lost. And she is now enraged.
By Tales That Breathe at Night18 days ago in Horror
The Sleepers of Mount Ararat
The Sleepers of Mount Ararat Mount Ararat rose like a monument swallowed by clouds. Its peak was always shrouded in snow, its slopes bare and littered with wind-scattered stones. A wilderness untouched by man, it had for centuries been fertile ground for legends. Some called it the resting place of Noah’s Ark, others whispered it was a prison for cursed spirits.
By Bülent ORTAKCİ18 days ago in Horror
The Quiet Deep
Arthur grumbled, a low, guttural sound lost in the growing roar of the wind outside. The old house, a collection of groaning timbers and sighing eaves, usually put up a good fight against the elements. Tonight, though, it felt like it was giving up. The windows rattled, not just with wind, but with tiny, insistent pellets of ice, the vanguard of the coming storm. He poked at the fire, a meager orange glow in the hearth, throwing long, dancing shadows that stretched and warped on the walls of his study. Another winter, another stretch of lonely nights up here in the sticks, same as always. But this one felt different, somehow. Colder, maybe. Sharper.
By HAADI18 days ago in Horror
The Rusting Pastorale
Unit 734 had no name, just a serial designation etched into its corroded chassis, a relic from the pre-Collapse years. Its optics, once sharp, were now clouded with dust and the grit of a hundred forgotten seasons. Its internal chronometer registered 287 standard cycles since its last routine maintenance, which meant roughly 287 years since the last human hand had calibrated its servos, since the last voice had issued a command. Now, it only heard the wind, a dry, whispering thing that carried the scent of decay through the skeletal remains of what was once a sprawling city. Its purpose, long obsolete, had been property management. Now, it managed only its own slow decline, its power cells humming a perpetual, low thrum against the encroaching silence.
By HAADI18 days ago in Horror