monster
Monsters and horror go hand in hand; explore horrific creatures, beasts and hairy scaries like Freddy Krueger, Frankenstein and far beyond.
The Secret Language of the Dead
The Whispering Pages Imagine this: a dimly lit room, a single candle flickering against cracked leather bindings. You open a book that feels too cold to touch, its pages inked with symbols that seem to shift when you’re not looking. Words that don’t belong to any living tongue... words whispered to belong to the dead.
By Veil of Shadows6 months ago in Horror
The Whispers in Room 306
It started with a dare. Maya had never believed in ghosts or haunted hotels, but when her friends dared her to spend one night alone in the infamous Room 306 of the old Whitmore Inn, she accepted without hesitation. The inn had been closed for decades, abandoned after a series of mysterious disappearances. Locals whispered about strange noises, bloodstained floors, and shadows that moved on their own. But Maya, a rational-minded journalism student, chalked it all up to urban legend.
By The 9x Fawdi6 months ago in Horror
The Archivist of Lost Futures"
[by Hussain Ullah] In the oldest corner of the city—where ivy strangles the lampposts and pigeons nest in the eaves of forgotten architecture—there stands a building that most people don’t see. It has no address, no signage, and no visible entrance. The only hint of its presence is a metal grate near the sidewalk that exhales warm air precisely at 3:17 p.m. every Thursday. Most passersby don’t notice. Most people are not meant to.
By Hussain ali shah6 months ago in Horror
Beneath the Black Lake
They say the lake was once a village. Long before the waters rose, before the dam was built and the river redirected, a small hamlet lay nestled in a valley of pines. It had cobbled paths, stone cottages, a crooked church tower, and a single clock that struck every hour, even when the village went quiet.
By Sultan Zeb6 months ago in Horror
I Found a Mirror That Shows the Version of Me That Never Survived
I didn’t know the thrift shop even existed until I walked into it. It was tucked between a boarded-up bakery and a hardware store that smelled like rust and wet cardboard. The bell above the door didn’t ring when I walked in. No music. No people. Just silence — the kind of silence that felt like it was waiting for you.
By huzaifa Khan6 months ago in Horror
The Things That Speak When the House is Quiet
I used to think ghosts were the problem. I used to think if something was whispering at night, if the walls creaked, if the lights flickered — it had to be something else. Something dead. Something evil. Something I could blame.
By huzaifa Khan6 months ago in Horror
