fiction
Horror fiction that delivers on its promise to scare, startle, frighten and unsettle. These stories are fake, but the shivers down your spine won't be.
The abandoned prison
The abandoned prison stood at the edge of town like a silent witness to the horrors of a past nobody wanted to remember. Its walls, once painted a hopeful white, were now cracked, faded, and streaked with the grime of decades. Rusted iron bars, twisted and broken, clanged softly whenever the wind whispered through the empty corridors. I don’t know why I found myself drawn to this place, but there was something about it—a pull, almost magnetic—that demanded I see it with my own eyes.
By sagar dhital13 days ago in Horror
Whispers of the Old Library. AI-Generated.
Rania had always loved libraries. The quiet, the scent of paper and ink, and the way rows of books seemed to hold entire worlds fascinated her. When she discovered the old municipal library tucked behind a narrow alley in her city, she felt like she had found a secret place meant only for her. The building was grand but neglected, with dust motes floating in the sunlight that filtered through tall, grimy windows. The wooden shelves creaked under the weight of decades of books, and the faint smell of mold lingered in the corners. On a rainy afternoon, she wandered through the aisles, running her fingers along spines and titles, enjoying the comforting solitude of a place untouched by modern chaos.
By Sudais Zakwan15 days ago in Horror
The Last Train Home. AI-Generated.
Zara had missed the last train, and the station was nearly empty except for the dim flicker of the fluorescent lights overhead. Rain poured outside, pooling along the tracks, and the wind made the station feel colder than it should have been. She had been working late and had lost track of time, and now the realization that she would have to wait in the empty, echoing building made her stomach tighten. The benches were wet from condensation, the ticket booths abandoned, and the usual murmur of late-night travelers absent. She wrapped her coat tighter and tried to focus on the soft hum of the electric boards, ignoring the sense of being watched.
By Sudais Zakwan15 days ago in Horror
When the Clock Stopped at 3:17
Daniel never believed in superstitions, but he did believe in routine. Every night, he placed his phone on the bedside table, set his alarm for 7:00 AM, and fell asleep to the soft ticking of the old wall clock across his room. The clock had belonged to his grandfather, a heavy wooden piece with long black hands and a faint crack across the glass. It had never failed to keep time. Not once.
By Sudais Zakwan15 days ago in Horror
The Calls From My Old Number. AI-Generated.
The relief of getting a new phone number was immediate. For months, Hamza had been receiving strange late-night calls. No voice. No breathing. Just silence — heavy, patient silence that felt less like a prank and more like someone listening carefully.
By shakir hamid16 days ago in Horror
The Last Call from Room 306
Some phones should never be answered The hotel was old but not abandoned, the kind of place that survived on low prices and forgettable stays. Paint peeled from the walls in thin curls, and the hallway lights flickered as if unsure whether to stay awake. Sameer checked in just after midnight, exhausted from travel and grateful for any bed. The receptionist barely looked up, slid a key across the counter, and said quietly, “Room 306. If the phone rings… don’t answer it.”
By Sudais Zakwan16 days ago in Horror
The Mirror That Learned My Face
The mirror was already in the room when I moved into the apartment. It stood against the far wall, tall and narrow, with a dark wooden frame scratched by time. I didn’t bring it with me, and the landlord said nothing about it. I assumed the previous tenant had forgotten it, and I was too tired to care.
By Sudais Zakwan17 days ago in Horror
The Neighbor Who Returned Every Morning. AI-Generated.
The receptionist hesitated before handing Arman the key. Not long. Just a second too long. It was past midnight, and the rain outside had flooded half the highway, forcing him to stop at the only roadside hotel still open. The lobby smelled faintly of detergent and old carpet — clean enough to trust, but empty enough to feel watched.
By shakir hamid18 days ago in Horror
