supernatural
The hidden world of all things supernatural; a look inside witchcraft, spells, vexes, black magic and other spine-tingling supernatural phenomena.
The Phantom Aisles
The attraction of the paranormal has always permeated our daily existence and appeared in unexpected places, including the shiny, customer-focused areas of shopping centers. The "facts" in these cases are the recurring, frequently terrifying tales and anecdotal accounts that have cemented some shopping malls as haunts for the unexplained, even though hard scientific "facts" about paranormal activity are still elusive. These collective stories, shared experiences, and local tales are what give these contemporary buildings a ghostly past—not scientific research.
By Richard Weber6 months ago in Horror
Salililar. Content Warning.
(From the series: Salyelilar) At the edge of a forgotten village—so far removed from the maps of men and the whispers of pilgrims—lived a girl named Salyelilar. Her blood was purely rural, raised among wheat fields and goats, until one day she grew tired of the suffocating rhythm of ordinary life. She left her family’s home and built a small mud-and-reed hut near the old river, where twisted trees lined the shore like silent guards of ancient time.
By Mohamed hgazy6 months ago in Horror
Don't Bother Alice
Mikey lived in a town that was pretty rural and small. There weren't many kids in his hometown. As a current Junior in high school, barring any unfortunate circumstances and drop-outs, there would only be 74 students graduating along side him. The town itself was as quiet and unchanging as one would expect. Not much to do for teenagers except to join a team of some kind, see a movie, or make up their own trouble. Given just how rural the area was, the trouble the teens got into involved hitting mail boxes or pranking one another. Nothing too serious. After all, all parents in town either knew each other, or knew someone who knew the other. It was too small a town to risk making real enemies with the other residents. Everyone was so connected with everyone else in the community that even parking lot gossip got to parents, school officials, and even town officials right away. Fights were often squashed before they could even begin. Did you not like Diane from 3rd period? Well you better find a way to get over it fast or good luck getting her dad or any of his friends to fix any problems with your pipes in the winter.
By Cari Maxwell6 months ago in Horror
The Room They Never Rented
I was six hours into a long drive across Pennsylvania when the storm hit. Sheets of rain hammered my windshield, and the GPS rerouted me twice because of road closures. It was close to midnight when I finally saw the flickering neon sign: “Pine Haven Motel - Vacancy.”
By Manisha James6 months ago in Horror
I Was Forced to Work With Clowns — And No One Believed What I Saw
The moment the lights went out, I knew something was wrong, but when I told the others in the circus, they all laughed. They advised, "Don't be soft; it's just a little bit of darkness." I just felt it. That oppressive, thick fear. The kind that gets into your bones and under your skin. I ought to have left as soon as they gave me the red nose. --- Clowns were never my thing. Not even when I was a kid. My stomach always twisted because of the painted smile and the way their faces never revealed their true emotions. I almost said no when a traveling circus offered me a job after I lost my job. However, rent was past due. My refrigerator was empty. I was forced to act. They said I would sell tickets. Simple work. In no costume No clowns! They deceived. --- My first night was spent in Tent Nine, also known as the "Clown Wardrobe." It smelled like old face paint and sweat. The mirrors were stained by greasepaint. Wig stands lined the shelves like severed heads. Windows were not present. curtains made of thick velvet. Additionally, there was a smell that resembled rotten food and burned sugar. I tried to make light of it. I told myself that it was just work. But then the lights started to move around. I also heard it. Laughter. Not content. Not amusing. It was modest. Raspy. like something that tries to sound human but doesn't. --- I told Mark, the manager of the tent. He grinned. "Clowns enjoy tricking people. It will become second nature. However, I never did. I slept in the caravan behind the main tent that night. The windows were shook by the wind. The tin roof shook as the rain fell. I choked when I awoke at 3:12 a.m. Balloons. Numerous of them. Red, yellow, and blue are taking up space. One slowly deflated over my mouth. I screamed as I tore it away. Nobody arrived. The balloons were gone by morning. The caravan had no filth. Mark gave a head shake. "Yes, rough dream?" However, I wasn't dreaming. My throat continued to burn. --- Three nights later, the worst happened. We were in the vicinity of Sheffield. A chilly, muddy field No crowds. Only the crew I had been asked to assist them with the clown tent's late-night packing. I declined. They demanded it. I made my way inside. Alone. Overhead, only one dim light. The costumes were dangling like bodies. Metal, paint, and sweat all permeated the air. When I turned around, I saw it. a ghoul. Eight feet in height. Like cracked porcelain, pale skin. It had a mouth that was too big. Real teeth, yellow and razor-sharp. It remained still. However, its eyes were on me. I mumbled, "Who's there?" It laughed. Not joking. Giggled. I stepped back. It made one progress. The weight made the floor squeak. I veered off and ran. I collapsed outside, shaking. Mark was present. As I wept and pointed at the tent, I begged them to believe me. He showed up. walked out with a smile. "Love, there's nothing there. You require sleep. I was not believed. --- The following morning, I quit. I took a train, packed my bags, and never looked back. But I was followed by something. I occasionally hear it outside my apartment window. That guffaw. Slow and soft. I wake up sometimes to find balloons attached to my bedpost. Nobody else can see them. I'm stressed, according to my mom. I need to rest, my friends say. But I'm aware of the truth. The monster recognized me after I looked it in the eye. And I'm the only one still alive who can recall that night.
By Abdu ssamad6 months ago in Horror
The Song Only I Could Hear
The notification blinked: "Unlock your voice’s hidden archive." I almost deleted VoxScan—another AI vocal tool promising "revolutionary audio restoration." But as a failed musician drowning in hospital bills for my daughter’s leukemia treatment, desperation had a way of making miracles seem plausible. I plugged in my headphones and pressed *Scan*.
By Ziafat Ullah6 months ago in Horror
