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How-tos for all things horror; tips and tricks to help you write like Stephen King, tell a scary story, keep the monsters at bay and more.

The Curse of the Jungle
The jungle stretched for miles, a vast and untamed wilderness. The trees towered like ancient guardians, their twisted roots enshrouding the earth in a maze of mystery. Amidst the dense foliage and eerie silence, a lone figure moved with purpose. Her name was Samara, and she was no ordinary girl...
By Md Bulbul Ahammed11 months ago in Horror
The Truth Beneath the Surface
Sophie Miller had it all. She was twenty-eight years old, and everything she had spent years working for was going perfectly. She had a successful marketing career, a devoted boyfriend named James, a set of friends who loved her, and an enviable life. Nothing could be better, and for the first time in years, she felt she could finally breathe. But all of it changed one night when she came home to discover an anonymous letter left for her.
By Bari Mir Rahamatul11 months ago in Horror
The Vanishing Hour
It was close to midnight when Detective Lara Quinn was standing in the middle of the empty alleyway, her eyes on the grimy door of a rundown warehouse. The chilled, crisp wind made the hair on the back of her neck stand up, not from cold, but from an overwhelming sensation that something did not feel right. Something had changed.
By Bari Mir Rahamatul11 months ago in Horror
Epping Forest: Where Ancient Shadows Whisper—A Haunted Chronicle of History, Legends, and Lingering Spirits
Epping Forest: A Phantom Brocade of History and Haunted Legend Spanning the London-Essex border, Epping Forest's ancient woodland has witnessed over 2,000 years of human history, from royal hunts to highwaymen and wartime spying, in silence. Its dense canopy and dappled glades are today as famous for their ghostly legends as for their natural beauty, and it is ranked among Britain's most haunted places.
By Kyrol Mojikal11 months ago in Horror
Title: The Mirror's Other Side Some reflections don’t stay in the mirror…. Content Warning.
Title: The Mirror's Other Side Some reflections don’t stay in the mirror… they follow you. Rudra first entered the residence at about 12:30 a.m. The two-story house in Kolkata's old Hatibagan neighborhood stood in eerie silence with peeling paint, dusty windows, and a creaking gate as it opened. People in the neighborhood whispered about it—how no one stayed there for long, how strange things happened after midnight. The house was cursed, they claimed. However, Rudra was opposed to such notions. He was modern, practical, and a little overconfident in his logic. A new job at an advertising agency had brought him to Kolkata, and with rental prices sky-high, the abandoned house seemed like a good deal. Too good, perhaps. Mitali, his wife, was more reticent. They had only recently married, still adjusting to married life. When she first saw the house, she shivered slightly. She had stated, "It feels... cold." “It’s just the air inside. It’s been locked up for a while,” Rudra replied, brushing it off. The first few days passed without incident. The house was dusty, sure, but surprisingly solid. The water pressure was low, the lights occasionally flickered, and the wooden floors creaked, but it was manageable. It even felt peaceful at times. However, on the fifth night, things started to change. After dinner, Rudra was brushing his teeth when he glanced at the old mirror in their bedroom. For a moment—just a moment—he saw a flicker of movement. A shadow, behind him. But when he turned, no one was there. He looked back. The mirror was unoccupied. At first, he didn't say anything. Maybe it was his reflection. Or perhaps the dim yellow light was deceiving someone. The same thing took place the following night. The shadow appeared again—same spot, same shape. Rudra stared longer this time. It didn’t move like a trick of light. It was still. Watching. He told Mitali about it, who laughed and said, “You watch too many horror movies.” However, Rudra was unable to shake the sense of unease. The shadow was in the mirror, not in the room. On the seventh night, Rudra set up a camera aimed directly at the mirror. He considered, "If it’s just my imagination, nothing will show." At 1 AM, they turned off the lights and went to sleep. The next morning, he reviewed the footage. For the first hour, nothing. Just silence, stillness. However, the screen became slightly darker at precisely 2:10 AM. A humanoid shadow began to emerge from within the mirror, standing tall and almost touching it from within. As if trying to communicate, it moved slowly forward rather than quickly. It then tilted its head and opened its mouth just before it vanished, but no sound came out. Rudra’s hands trembled. He showed Mitali the footage. She said nothing for a long moment. She finally said in a whisper, "We ought to leave this house." That night, Rudra couldn’t sleep. He groaned at every sound. The creaking of the old walls and the wind against the window. Around 2 AM, he finally drifted off—only to be jolted awake by a strange, low humming sound. The door to the bedroom was open. Mitali wasn’t in bed. Heart pounding, Rudra ran out and found her standing still in front of the mirror. She didn't move. Just staring. However, while her actual face was expressionless, her reflection was smiling. “Mitali!” he shouted, running to her. No response. He grabbed her shoulder. She slowly turned her head toward him, her eyes blank. Then, in a whisper that wasn’t entirely hers, she said, "It is now within me... I am no longer me." Rudra turned toward the mirror. His blood ran cold. Inside, standing behind the glass, was another Mitali. Identical in appearance—but her eyes were pitch black and her smile twisted inhumanly. Then, without warning, the mirror cracked with a loud snap. From the spreading fractures emerged the shadow—more visible than before. A face took shape—half-burnt, half-masked by shadow. Glowing red eyes pierced through the darkness. Its mouth opened, revealing a set of jagged, decaying teeth. It spoke in a guttural, bone-chilling voice: "I own everyone who enters this house." Now, it’s your turn.” Rudra screamed and staggered back. Desperate, he grabbed a wooden stick from the corner and threw it at the mirror. With a thunderous crash, the mirror exploded into shards. Then—complete darkness. When the lights returned, Rudra found himself in bed. Drenched in sweat. Breathing deeply. Mitali was next to him, concerned. “Rudra! Are you okay?” she asked. He looked around. Everything looked normal. The mirror was whole. The room was untouched. “Was it just a dream?” he whispered. That very morning, they made the decision to leave the house. Rudra checked the footage once more on his laptop as he packed to reassure himself. But what he saw made his blood freeze. At exactly 2:10 AM, the shadow returned. This time, it didn’t just drift forward. It looked directly at the camera, tilted its head, and slowly mouthed the words: "I'm now with you." [Plot Twist Ending] Weeks passed. The couple moved into a high-rise apartment far from the city's old neighborhoods after Rudra took time off from work. Life returned to normal. Or so it seemed. Rudra used Mitali's phone one afternoon to look up a contact. As he scrolled through the gallery, he found a hidden album titled “Old House.” He opened it. There were dozens of images and videos from their stay in the Hatibagan house. But one final video caught his eye. It was dated two days before they left. Recorded at exactly 2:10 AM. Curious—and afraid—he played it. The same dark mirror. The same dim bedroom lighting. Suddenly, the shadow appeared again. But this time… Rudra himself stepped out of the mirror. Not a shadow. Not a distortion. Another Rudra. Identical, calm, and smiling. He watched the real Rudra and Mitali sleep from beside the bed. Then, he looked straight at the camera—and winked. The phone was dropped by Rudra. His mind raced. If the version of him in the video stepped out of the mirror… then who was he? Was he the real Rudra? Or just a shadow that had crossed over? The room suddenly felt colder. From the corner of the bedroom, the mirror on the wardrobe began to shimmer. A reflection that didn’t quite match his movements stared back. And grinned.
By Bapi saha11 months ago in Horror
The Haunted Grave
This incident has three parts, different incidents that make up one whole story. The narrator collected this story primarily from his cousin, Alamin. The first part of the story Alamin heard from his grandmother, and it happened to someone from a house next to his grandmother's father's house. And the person it happened to was a Kobiraj (traditional healer/exorcist). It wasn't just him, but also his family, who were affected. Although the grandmother didn't see it with her own eyes, she was essentially a witness.
By Lily11 months ago in Horror
The Lion and the Lamb
In the golden grasslands of the Great Savannah, where the sun blazed high and the wind whispered through the acacia trees, lived a mighty lion named Kazi. His mane was thick and dark, his roar could shake the skies, and all animals knew him as the King of the Savannah.
By Huzifa Khan 11 months ago in Horror
The Haunted Grave: A Freedom Fighter’s Terrifying Encounter
The person who sent us this incident is named Asif. He currently lives in Mirpur. The incident happened with his father-in-law, who lives in the Bihari camp of Benarashi Palli, Mirpur 10. However, he is not Bihari; his ancestral home is Bhola. He is a local here. I'm not mentioning his father-in-law's name for understandable reasons, and his wife's name is also involved, so I'm not mentioning her name either. Many people around here know his father-in-law. The incident occurred sometime between 2000 and 2001. At that time, his father-in-law used to drive a van there. The incident begins with a date palm tree next to their house. This date palm tree had a small banyan tree growing on top of it. There was a washroom next to the tree.
By Lily11 months ago in Horror
Zombie Ants
The forest had grown unnaturally quiet over the past few weeks. No birds sang, no deer rustled through the underbrush, and even the wind seemed to hold its breath. The only sound was a faint, relentless clicking—a chorus of tiny mandibles gnashing in unison. It started with the ants. Not the kind that marched in orderly lines toward picnic crumbs, but something far worse. Cordyceps, they called it once, a fungal parasite that hijacked ants’ bodies, turning them into mindless husks driven to spread its spores. But this wasn’t the Cordyceps of old textbooks. This was something new, something mutated, something that didn’t stop at ants.
By TheNaeth11 months ago in Horror
Ghosts of the Concrete Utopia: The Haunting of Bulgaria’s Buzludzha Monument
The Ghostly Legacy of Buzludzha Monument House, Bulgaria Perched atop a remote peak in the Balkan Range of Bulgaria, the Buzludzha Monument House is a chilling testament to communism and a beacon of ghostly legend. Its history is as tangled as its weathered mosaics, and its supernatural atmosphere has cemented its status as Bulgaria's most haunted destination.
By Kyrol Mojikal11 months ago in Horror
The Jinn Mystery on the Night of Operation Jackpot
Before getting to the main event, if I don't start by mentioning something about the Great Liberation War, it will be difficult to understand the significance of this event. A notable event of the Great Liberation War is Jackpot. During the Liberation War, the entire country was divided into 11 sectors, and among them, sector number 10 encompassed all the waterways, seaports, and sea areas of Bangladesh. There was no regular sector commander for this waterway or under the authority of sector number 10. At that time, large ships were arriving from Pakistan carrying weapons. If these weapons fell into the hands of the Pakistani army or their collaborators, the number of killings in our country would increase even further, and many innocent people would die. So, to break the morale of the Pakistani forces at that time, a special operation was conducted, called Operation Jackpot. Under Operation Jackpot, there were four locations: Chittagong seaport, Mongla seaport, Chandpur river port, and Narayanganj river port. Our event today has a connection with the Chittagong seaport. The person who led the operation there was Submariner Bir Muktijoddha (Freedom Fighter) Abdul Wahed Chowdhury, Bir Uttam. Basically, there were two signals for the start of this operation. Two songs were to be broadcast on a specific frequency from Kolkata Akashvani (All India Radio). The first song was sung by Pankaj Mullick, "Ami Tomay Jato Shuniyechhilam Gaan." When this song was broadcast, it was the signal to attack, meaning the attack had to be launched that night, or after midnight. That was one signal. The other was a song sung by Sandhya Mukhopadhyay, "Amar Putul Aajke Prothom Jaabe Shoshurbari."
By Lily11 months ago in Horror
Inside Chiajna Monastery: The Truth Behind Romania’s Most Haunted Ruin
The Haunted History and Paranormal Customs of Romania's Chiajna Monastery Standing at the edge of Bucharest, the remains of Chiajna Monastery loom as a quiet reminder of a tragic, betrayed, and restless history. Constructed in the late 18th century, this neoclassical building was meant to be a foreboding house of prayer, but its history soon became sinister—famous as one of Romania's most haunted sites. Below is the chilling tale of its cursed history and ghostly hauntings that continue to this day.
By Kyrol Mojikal11 months ago in Horror