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.
In the Swamp of the Night:An Anatolian Jinn Wedding. Content Warning.
I. The Frog Hunter in the Dark In a remote village of Anatolia, there lived a young man who made his living by catching frogs. His name was Ismail. Since his childhood, he and his father would go to wetlands and swamp edges at night to catch frogs, then take them to town to sell.
By Bülent ORTAKCİ27 days ago in Horror
Whispers in the Hospital Ward:. AI-Generated.
The hospital ward was quiet at night. Machines hummed softly, monitors blinked, and the faint fragrance of antiseptic lingered in the air. Patients slept in their beds, nurses moved silently from room to room, and the world outside seemed far away. Yet in that silence, whispers began to rise—faint, fragile, but impossible to ignore.
By The Writer...A_Awan28 days ago in Horror
The Snow Outside Never Stopped. AI-Generated.
Elias Rowe hated winter, not because of the cold, but because winter remembered things he tried to forget. His cabin sat deep in the northern woods, isolated by design. No neighbors. No roads once the snow piled high enough. Just trees, silence, and the slow ticking of time inside his head.
By shakir hamid28 days ago in Horror
The Snow That Knows Your Name. AI-Generated.
The first snow fell too early that year. In Hollowridge, winter was expected to arrive slowly — teasing the town with frost before committing. But this time, it came overnight. By morning, rooftops were buried, roads erased, and the forest surrounding the town stood frozen in a thick white silence.
By shakir hamid28 days ago in Horror
Underskin. Content Warning.
There’s something under my skin. I feel it moving there, sometimes. Squiggling like a maggot flailing in a bird’s mouth. Slowly, it works its way from place to place, and my fingers writhe with its passage; the passing of a slug leaving rot along its wake.
By I. D. Reeves29 days ago in Horror
Something Knocks After Midnight
The knocking started after midnight, which is how I knew it wasn’t normal. Normal sounds belong to daylight. Footsteps, doors, voices. Even the house itself has a language you learn over time—the sigh of cooling pipes, the tick of wood contracting, the occasional complaint from an old foundation. These sounds have rhythm. They repeat. They make sense.
By LUNA EDITH30 days ago in Horror
