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How-tos for all things horror; tips and tricks to help you write like Stephen King, tell a scary story, keep the monsters at bay and more.
The Horro
A dark night can inspire various feelings depending upon the conditions. It may be tranquil and peaceful, or it can fill us with an agitating feeling of fear. When joined with components of frightfulness, the climate of a dull night turns into the ideal setting for a spine-chilling encounter. Whether you are distant from everyone else in an unfilled house, out in the forest, or just lying in bed, the sensation of disquiet can develop with each squeak, shadow, or whirlwind. Here is a vivid story of how one could face such an evening, engaging both outside fears and inward nerves.
By nadia khanomabout a year ago in Horror
The Mystery of Seua Saming
In the rich embroidered artwork of Southeast Asian old stories, not many animals spellbind the creative mind as much as the Seua Saming, or Weretiger. These amazing creatures are accepted to be people who have the capacity to change into brutal tigers, slinking the woodlands and towns of Thailand, Myanmar, and Laos. Like the werewolves of Western folklore, weretigers are both dreaded and worshipped for their extraordinary influence, as well as their capacity to bring both favorable luck and catastrophe.
By Kyrol Mojikalabout a year ago in Horror
THE LAST TRAIN AT 11PM
**The Last Train at 11 PM** The night was draped in a heavy fog, thick enough to swallow sound and sight. The clock on the station wall ticked toward 11 PM, its monotonous rhythm underscoring the stillness of the nearly deserted platform. Clara stood shivering slightly, her breath forming small clouds in the chilly air. She glanced at her watch, anxious for the arrival of the last train.
By Daniel Samabout a year ago in Horror
Whispers in the Dark
The tempest seethed outside, ramming against the windows of the old lodge with a fierceness that matched the feeling of disquiet stewing in the air. Nathan had just been in the house for a couple of days, yet the severe quietness that plagued its old walls had previously started to weigh vigorously on his nerves.
By Rubel Hasanabout a year ago in Horror
"The Door"
"There was only one rule: don’t open the door.” For years, Clara observed it without query. The door in the attic, the one her grandmother had warned her about considering the fact that adolescence, changed into by no means to be touched. "It's now not so that it will realize what is beyond," she'd say, her voice trembling.
By Raja Sumaria Khanabout a year ago in Horror
Don’t Tell Me His Name: The Aftermath of a Colorado Shooting
Introduction In a world where tragedies like mass shootings have become all too common, the aftermath often brings more questions than answers. This was the case in Colorado, where a community was left grappling with grief and anger after yet another shooting took the lives of innocent people. While many rush to find out the shooter’s name, there is a growing movement that says, “Don’t tell me his name.” This idea focuses on the impact that media coverage, particularly the naming of the shooter, has on society. It asks a pivotal question: Should we stop glorifying the perpetrators of such heinous acts?
By Muhammad Nadeemabout a year ago in Horror
There was only one rule: don’t open the door
Author: Dream Books Sanjeevi Every night the door shook at midnight. A lever was turned an inch at a time, then one that was slammed shut, as if there was a creature on the other side begging for entrance. What I can tell is I’ve been living in this house for a week now and every night it has been like this. The landlord’s warning echoed in my mind: “However much you are told or whatever is said to you do not open the door.”
By Sanjeevi Kandasamyabout a year ago in Horror
Corregidor Island: The Ghosts of “The Rock” and Its War-Torn Past
Corregidor Island, generally called "The Rock," sits at the section of Manila Strait, Cavite City, and has witnessed most likely the principal events in Philippine history, particularly during World War II Conflict. Its rich history, joined with the scary stories from the island, has spread the word about it perhaps of the most all around tortured region in the Philippines.
By Kyrol Mojikalabout a year ago in Horror
Silent Screams
Nestled deep within the dense, shadowy woods lies Hollow Hill, a place shrouded in mystery and eerie silence. For generations, locals have whispered tales of ghostly apparitions and unexplained phenomena that haunt the old, abandoned mansion atop the hill. This chilling narrative delves into the haunting legacy of Hollow Hill and the restless spirits that are said to roam its grounds.
By Sazeeb Chowduryabout a year ago in Horror
Fort Santiago: The Haunted Fortress of Intramuros
Fort Santiago, arranged in the center of Intramuros, Manila, is potentially of the super unquestionable achievement in the Philippines. It stays as a picture of the country's savage commonplace past, bearing the substantialness of many long periods of conflict, disobedience, and adversity. Fortress Santiago's creepy standing stems from its bona fide significance as well as from the dull and much of the time lamentable circumstance that happened inside its walls. Its relationship with confinement, torture, and execution has prompted different ghost stories, making it maybe of the most creepy spot in the country.
By Kyrol Mojikalabout a year ago in Horror
The Whispers in the Walls
It was an old house, tucked away at the end of a forgotten road, surrounded by overgrown woods that seemed to twist and stretch in unnatural ways. When Emily and her family moved in, the locals warned them that no one had lived there for more than a year before leaving. People whispered about the house being "cursed," but Emily’s parents didn’t believe in ghosts, and she tried not to either. After all, they had gotten the house for a great price. What could be wrong with that?The first few nights were quiet, save for the creaking of the wooden floors and the howling wind rattling the windows. But then Emily began to hear something. Late at night, when the rest of her family was fast asleep, there was a faint sound—soft whispers, barely audible, but undeniably there. It wasn’t the wind, and it wasn’t the house settling. The whispers seemed to come from within the walls.One night, unable to ignore it any longer, she pressed her ear against the cold plaster of her bedroom wall. The whispers grew louder, clearer, and she could make out fragments of words: "Help us… don’t leave… he’s coming…"Terrified, she ran to her parents, but they dismissed her fear, chalking it up to her imagination. Frustrated, Emily decided to investigate on her own. The next day, she explored the house’s attic, a dark and dusty place filled with forgotten relics of the past. There, she found an old journal, brittle and yellowed with age. The journal belonged to a woman named Margaret, who had lived in the house decades ago with her husband and children.The entries started off mundane, but as Emily flipped through the pages, the tone changed. Margaret began to write about her husband, how he had become obsessed with something hidden in the walls—something ancient and malevolent. The last few pages were frantic scrawls of fear: "He’s trying to keep them quiet… the voices… they won’t stop. He won’t stop… he’s part of it now…"That night, the whispers returned, louder than ever, filling Emily's room. But this time, they weren’t just whispers. There were other sounds—scraping, scratching—like something trying to break free from within the walls. The air grew thick, heavy with the stench of decay.Suddenly, her bedroom door slammed shut, and she was plunged into darkness. The whispers turned into agonized screams, filling her ears, drowning out her thoughts. Something was moving in the shadows—something dark, looming, and twisted. It whispered her name, calling her closer.Terrified, Emily scrambled to the window, trying to escape, but the glass wouldn’t break. Behind her, she could feel the presence getting closer, the cold breath of something ancient against her neck. She turned to face it, and in the flicker of moonlight, she saw it—the twisted, decaying figure of a man, his eyes hollow, his mouth stretched into a grotesque grin."You shouldn’t have come here," he whispered, his voice blending with the screams from the walls. "You’re mine now… just like the others…"The next morning, Emily’s parents found her room empty. The bed was untouched, her belongings exactly where she had left them, but Emily was gone. No one ever saw her again.Years later, a new family moved in, unaware of the house's dark history. And once again, late at night, the whispers began…
By Salman Ahmedabout a year ago in Horror
