supernatural
The hidden world of all things supernatural; a look inside witchcraft, spells, vexes, black magic and other spine-tingling supernatural phenomena.
dead air
**Dead Air** The hum of the radio was the only sound in the cramped control room. A few static pops broke the silence, but it was mostly a low, constant buzz that filled the space, almost like the hum of an old refrigerator. The clock on the wall ticked away the seconds in the darkened room, casting a faint, neon glow over the collection of buttons and switches that lined the console.
By Muhammad Arham10 months ago in Horror
the spirit mirror
the spirit mirrorThe Spirit Mirror In an old, forgotten corner of a dusty antique shop, there sat a peculiar mirror—its wooden frame ornate, covered in layers of chipped gold paint. It had been there for years, hidden behind stacks of old furniture, with its reflective surface clouded and cracked, as if the mirror itself had aged into something more than just a reflection. It was a mirror of legend, one that could show not only one's appearance but one's deepest fears, desires, and memories long buried.
By Muhammad Arham10 months ago in Horror
Mysterious swing (Part-Two)
I searched for a long time outside the window with the flash on my mobile phone, but I couldn't find the cradle or the girl. Thinking it was a mistake, I went to bed. In the dark room, I clearly felt someone else's presence. I tried not to worry about it and went to sleep.
By Md Babul Mia10 months ago in Horror
Whispers of the Palasik
In a quiet village nestled between the misty highlands of West Sumatra, there lived an old healer named Mak Rina. Known for her midwifery skills and potions made from forest herbs, she helped many women during childbirth. But some whispered that she never aged… and that babies born near her hut often fell mysteriously ill — or vanished.
By Maulana Dimasiqi Akhnakhauri Akeyla Syah10 months ago in Horror
The Curse of Hantu Kum-Kum
In the heart of Kalimantan’s thick rainforest, in a small Dayak village nestled by the banks of the Mahakam River, lived a midwife named Nek Tini. Known for her herbal knowledge and powerful mantras, she was both respected and feared. Rumors whispered that she once dabbled in black magic — using spells from the old days, when shamans would speak to spirits and sacrifice animals to keep peace between the worlds.
By Maulana Dimasiqi Akhnakhauri Akeyla Syah10 months ago in Horror
The Whispering Light
When Jenna discovered the old farmhouse listing on a small real estate site, something about it felt... right. It was tucked away at the edge of Gray Hollow, a tiny town so remote that even the GPS maps had trouble finding it. The price was right for a fixer-upper, and the lack of nearby neighbors meant peace—finally. Jenna needed it after the chaos of the city.
By Muhammad Tufail10 months ago in Horror
Pathogen, Ch. 11
While Marnie was still reeling from shock, Julian leaned over the center console and took a peek out her window. A second later, he threw himself violently in the other direction, kicking open the passenger side door in the process. Marnie grimaced at the sound of him tossing his cookies onto the asphalt, but she couldn't blame him for it a bit. Honestly, it was all she could do to keep from tossing her own cookies. Tossing cookies felt like a very appropriate response to seeing a gore-covered zombie sitting in a pile of what used to be a person.
By Natalie Gray10 months ago in Horror
Gunkanjima: The Ghost Island of Japan’s Industrial Nightmare
Hashima Island: Haunting Legacy of Industry and Suffering Off the coast of Nagasaki, Japan, lies Hashima Island—locally known as Gunkanjima (Battleship Island) because of its warship profile—is a crumbling relic of Japan's industrial past and haunting reminder of human subjugation. Once the most populated place on earth, this erstwhile island town is now a ghostly labyrinth of crumbling concrete, veiled in tales of suffering and phantom desolation.
By Kyrol Mojikal10 months ago in Horror
The last voicemail
I didn't realize the dead could leave voicemails. At least not until yesterday. At 3:17 a.m., my phone rang. I didn't recognize the number, but something about it felt odd. The ringtone sounded twisted, like if it came from underwater. I let it go to voicemail and attempted to go back asleep. I checked the message this morning. It was from my sister Maddie. A sister who died two years ago. Her voice was weak, but it was hers. "Ryan," she said quietly, "I don't have much time." It is freezing here. He monitors everything. Don't trust the lights. Then static. Then came quiet. I played it again. One hundred times. I checked the number. It's burned into my memory. I tried to call back. It did not exist. My hands couldn't quit shaking. Maddie died in a vehicle accident, which included a closed casket, a funeral, and grieving therapy. I witnessed the wreck personally. There is no going back from that. But this was her voice. I knew it like it was my own. I drove back to our hometown. The voicemail did not give me a choice. Maddie and I would sneak out to an old cabin in the woods behind our house, which we called "The Quiet." I hadn't been there since she died, but I found myself trudging down the path regardless, boots crunching in the frost and breath hanging in the air like ghosts.
By Mastura Islam10 months ago in Horror
The Haunting of Rumah Hantu
It was a cool evening in the bustling city of Jakarta, Indonesia. The city was alive with the hum of traffic, the call of street vendors, and the bright lights that pierced through the haze of smog. But amidst the life of this sprawling urban landscape stood a house that time had forgotten, or perhaps, one that no one dared remember.
By Sabiha Sums10 months ago in Horror
