supernatural

The hidden world of all things supernatural; a look inside witchcraft, spells, vexes, black magic and other spine-tingling supernatural phenomena.

Black Barn Owl
We say in Ridgewater that when you hear the black barn owl's call, someone nearby has died. Even worse, if you see it, you will surely be next. Every year, in the first week of November, our usually bright Ridgewater grows dark and quiet. The entirety of the small town is pregnant with superstition, and for good reason. At the start of November, going back as far as the town’s founding, a chilling wind blows through the streets, signaling the start of the cursed week. It used to be just one—the number of people who die during the seven days. Now, we townspeople consider ourselves lucky to make it through with less than a dozen.
By Austin Parden5 years ago in Horror
A Harrowing Howl
Darkness. There is nothing but darkness. I am lying in the dead of night, surrounded by the eternal blackness. I wake up. Gasping for air. I have never felt so afraid. I suddenly jolt as a loud and unrelenting hoot of an owl is heard just outside my window. I turn my head. The owls piercing eyes staring me down. I have never felt so afraid. Thud! A noise from downstairs sent my heart rate through the roof. I have never felt so afraid. ‘I live alone,’ I thought. Who could it be? What could it be? I am engulfed in the fear of the unknown. A voice told me to check it out. Slowly I rise from my bed and gingerly make my way towards the door. The floorboards creaking with my every step. I place my hand on the cold, steel door handle. Another hoot from the owl outside threw me straight back under the covers. I have never felt so afraid. Why is this happening? What had led me to this point in life? Overcome with fear and paranoia. What event had occurred in my past, forcing me to live like this? I want to be brave. Fear cannot rule my life anymore. I throw back the covers and make my way out of the door. I begin my descent down the spiralled staircase. After what seemed like hours. I reach the bottom. The hallway had never seemed so long. I walk. Carefully making my way towards the kitchen. Turning my head constantly to make sure nothing was waiting in the dark… waiting to pounce. The end of my journey was nigh. It was now or never. Closing my eyes, I muster up all my courage and burst through the door to the kitchen. I expect the worst… but there is nothing. Nothing. My kitchen is as boring and as normal as any other day. A sigh of relief flowed out of my body. A smile crept across my worried face. ‘Back to bed then,’ I thought. It was late, and I have work in the morning. I leave the kitchen and head back up the stairs to get back into my bed. I reach the end of my summit. Ding. The doorbell. Who could it possibly be at this time of night? Just like that, the smile was wiped from my face. I creep slowly back down the stairs. “Who is it?” I call.
By Jacob Ash5 years ago in Horror
Up the Ridge
When we got to the very top of the ridge where the noise might of originated I slowed the truck down to a crawl and looked around not knowin what I might be about to find. That gaw damn sound was like jagged metal making love to itself for the devil to enjoy. I heard it a couple times before. Like a birdcat monster wailin to the uncared for universe.
By Christopher O'Connor5 years ago in Horror
The Owl. Top Story - January 2021.
New York City. A city fueled by a world of opportunities and the millions of dreamers, driven by ambition and passion, who dared to take a step into the competitive race, yearning for a chance to be a part of the reason for the city’s famous reputation.
By Marian Tibrey5 years ago in Horror
A Harrowing Howl
Darkness. There is nothing but darkness. I am lying in the dead of night, surrounded by the eternal blackness. I wake up. Gasping for air. I have never felt so afraid. I suddenly jolt as a loud and unrelenting hoot of an owl is heard just outside my window. I turn my head. The owls piercing eyes staring me down. I have never felt so afraid. Thud! A noise from downstairs sent my heart rate through the roof. I have never felt so afraid. ‘I live alone,’ I thought. Who could it be? What could it be? I am engulfed in the fear of the unknown. A voice told me to check it out. Slowly I rise from my bed and gingerly make my way towards the door. The floorboards creaking with my every step. I place my hand on the cold, steel door handle. Another hoot from the owl outside threw me straight back under the covers. I have never felt so afraid. Why is this happening? What had led me to this point in life? Overcome with fear and paranoia. What event had occurred in my past, forcing me to live like this? I want to be brave. Fear cannot rule my life anymore. I throw back the covers and make my way out of the door. I begin my descent down the spiralled staircase. After what seemed like hours. I reach the bottom. The hallway had never seemed so long. I walk. Carefully making my way towards the kitchen. Turning my head constantly to make sure nothing was waiting in the dark… waiting to pounce. The end of my journey was nigh. It was now or never. Closing my eyes, I muster up all my courage and burst through the door to the kitchen. I expect the worst… but there is nothing. Nothing. My kitchen is as boring and as normal as any other day. A sigh of relief flowed out of my body. A smile crept across my worried face. ‘Back to bed then,’ I thought. It was late, and I have work in the morning. I leave the kitchen and head back up the stairs to get back into my bed. I reach the end of my summit. Ding. The doorbell. Who could it possibly be at this time of night? Just like that, the smile was wiped from my face. I creep slowly back down the stairs. “Who is it?” I call.
By Jacob Ash5 years ago in Horror
Shapeshifting Night Owl
Eeringly hooting, silently gazing, & territorially possessing, Malor is waiting in bone penetrating darkness for his prey. His focus and will are without flexibility in this moment. His readiness of action is still and immaculate. Malor has been waiting to devour his prey with joyable ruthlessness. How could Malor feel any mercy for a man that abused his mother, privately molested him, and cowardly got rid of his dog that his mother and father bought him for his fifth birthday?
By I AM5 years ago in Horror
The House
Prologue 1940’s Tom took his time as he pulled out his uniform from the closet. It seemed like it was yesterday that he had walked across that stage and saw his parents with their eyes beaming love. He was proud that we were graduated and somehow was gifted with his new job as part of the construction company that had landed a great job. They were going to help build 15 houses in the next two years and that meant he would be made in the shade and when he found the right girl maybe a wife. Heck if everything went well, he would have a few ankle-biters Soon he would have his pad but for now he stayed at his parents’ house to help. His dad had been sick and unable to work. Fastening the overalls, he picked up his cap and walked into the kitchen. His mother was already up cooking breakfast for him. He could smell the eggs as the cooked on the gas stove they had just installed a few years. He knew that as soon as he could he was going to replace that stove but for today the stove would be just fine. He had his eye on a new refrigerator
By Deanna Natterer5 years ago in Horror
Goul, Demon and Devil
I have been ghoul, demon and the devil itself. I have been feared as the monster of Arabia and worshipped as a God of Egypt. My kind have always been and will always be. We are a myth that continues to entertain and instigate art, storytelling and deviance. Throughout history we have always instilled fear, but so much so that we continue to be relegated to mythology and not fact. We have been our own best spin doctors to allow ourselves to be noted throughout history, but continue to be a tale and not a reality. It makes me laugh that we have hidden for so long in plain site and move as the silent predator who provides hope to their prey . What predator does that? The wolf does not provide the deer with hope for their future, only death. We offer something different.
By Jennifer Pain-Andrejin5 years ago in Horror
The ghost in the closet
I was 17 when I decided ghosts were real. I sat in my large, cross shaped room that ended in three doors, one to my closet, one to my bathroom, and the last one leading to...well, nothing. The third door opened up into a wall. I was talking with my boyfriend as his words dissipated into garbled whispers. I was hyper fixated on the floor boards in my closet, why did some of them look as though they were sawed off to be shorter than the rest of the closet.
By L.D. Malachite 5 years ago in Horror
BBQ at Davids
BBQ at Davids It was the summer of 2002. My family and I were moving into our new home in a quiet neighbourhood. I was the only child, which had its ups and downs; I didn’t have a sibling to annoy me, I got more for Christmas and on my birthday, but it did get lonesome at times. Especially when my parents went out for their late night dates on the weekends. They never bothered to get a babysitter since I was very responsible and they confided in me. I would get scared at times, but who wouldn’t? But no random creek or unexplainable sound I heard when I was home alone on those nights would have prepared me for the event that took place in July of 2002.
By I’m scared of ghosts.5 years ago in Horror
Grimoire of Adair Jones (Entry 2)
23/06 I went back to the same creek last night. I looked around but I didn’t notice anything that seemed out of ordinary. The sky was clear as usual. I noticed that some of the clouds were shaped like a bird or some type of feathers. Some people think it’s strange, but I always like looking up at the sky. They change colours so often and at night, the stars are always beautiful. I’ve seen a few shooting stars thanks to this weird habit of mine. Once I saw the meteor split and I don’t think I’ll ever forget the sight of that.
By Kureha Durant5 years ago in Horror
When the Clerk Came to Work
A PRISON GHOST STORY  “It really happened, Taylor,” Kellogg said. He sat behind his desk in the Facility Three Yard program office of the Richard J. Donovan Correctional Facility. He wore the bravo class uniform of a correctional sergeant, khaki shirt with three stripes on each arm, depicting his rank, and a black uniform ball cap to cover his brown, thinning hair. I sat across from him, leaning back in a chair, one booted foot on the desk. “I don’t expect you to believe me, but I was there. I saw him with my own eyes.” It was first watch, the graveyard shift. The inmates were locked up for the night, and the prison was staffed by a skeleton crew. What better time was there to tell ghost stories? Prisons are replete with tales of supernatural apparitions, purported to be the spirits of murdered inmates, or officers who spend their lives after death eternally haunting the halls of their former places of employment.
By Ricky Taylor5 years ago in Horror