#gore

You know, I never thought I’d end up as a glorified janitor for a secret organization. When I was a kid, I wanted to be a firefighter or maybe an astronaut. Something cool. Something heroic. Instead, here I am, scrubbing ichor off walls and hauling mysterious black garbage bags to incinerators. But hey, life takes you places, right? And to all those comments asking, “How’d I got recruited by the Association?” … Well, buckle up. your prayers had been answered.

The wind is cold. The late autumn night wind drilled through the battered glass window of the small eatery, scraping against faces with a dull, lingering ache. The diner's old incandescent bulb flickered erratically. Its light fell upon two bowls of steaming rice on the table, and also onto the bowed head of the student. No one knew that this seemingly silent high schooler, always wearing a washed-out school uniform, was already rotten to the core.

Oct 10 - Today is cloudy Starting today, I'm going to keep a diary! My family includes little Jack, my mom, and the "Red Devil" too! My mom and the Red Devil are always getting into fights! It’s a total blast—whenever the Red Devil comes home drunk, a fight with Mom breaks out. Little Jack is really timid and just cries when he sees it, but I actually find it fun! Oct 11 - Today is warm

This story is meant to scare people. It's a little different from what i do. Even tho it is fictional it is a very hard creepypasta and i suggest to be careful while reading it. Have fun. Alaska. Monday December 12 1768. 9PM.

In the quiet of the night, I was not summoned. I was birthed the way mold takes root on bread—a silent growth feeding on whatever Clara left behind. The first thing I knew was the sound of her crying. It echoed through the house at three in the morning like a banshee's wail, filled with grief for her late husband, Mark.

It's dark. An oppressive silence prevails. Only to those who live close to the ground, a loud rhythmic noise can be heard. This is of course exclusive for those like mice and creatures much smaller. Creatures with a good sense of hearing. To a cat or a dog it might still be audible, though they would probably only hear a soft tapping. Something tapping across the floor at an almost unearthly speed. Driven by something unknown to any breathing kind.

THERE EXIST such places where every fragment, every corner is pierced by pain, suffering, darkness, and oppression. It is so dense and stifling there that in some places it makes you want to vomit. The mind is drilled through as if by an auger, and every second of drilling feels like an eternity. It is as if someone has sat on a chair full of spikes in a dark, merciless torture chamber full of cruelty, blood, and pain. Time is not measured here because time does not exist here at all.…

*Originally published in the Flash Phantoms June 2026 issue

First, let me introduce myself. My name is Anthony Salaria, and this is my story. I used to think the world was a big place. Now I know better. The world is only as big as the distance between you and whatever is trying to kill you.

it starts with the reporter Dan come to ask my story, a no name reporter who wanted fame for himself but nobody, even police believe him enough to give him my story, so he secretly came into my room in the asylum, pretending to be my relative Dan:*coming to the cell* hey, your the guy named Alex, the white haired with red scarf you always hold like a lifeline? I heard you were hard to the staff I was barely awake in my white room y-yes?

I saw them. My family’s cows, floating up into the pale white light. I was looking out my window at the time, it was night and I was the only one awake. Father had claimed he had locked the barn, but again more of the poor creatures where taken. They had been going missing, one by one, for a while now. My family had installed camera’s, but nothing was ever caught, just another cow disappearing into thin air every night.

He had no idea how he had ended up in these foul depths, but all he knew was that he needed to find a way out before it was too late. The young Dragonnoid had sworn to himself he would never go into the city, so why was he wandering lost in its forsaken bowels?

My name is Emily Stark. That name used to sound soft, elegant—almost sacred. It was spoken on red carpets, in interviews, on magazine covers, in credits after films, in signature lines beneath paintings, in animated series I helped create, and in songs people claimed saved their lives. I was adored. I was famous. I was “gifted.” I could smile in a way that made people forget how to breathe, and sing in a way that made silence feel holy. I was an actress, model, writer, philanthropist, painter,…

'Love.' They say it's the purest form of giving without expecting anything in return. To be unconditional, understanding, and patient. Love can be the sweetest thing of all, but it can also be the most dangerous weapon in the world.

Mama was holding the goat by the horns while wearing garden gloves, still avoiding touching the horns with bare skin. “Untie those,” she said referring to the rope used to tie the goat to the column. I began to unfasten the rope from the goat’s neck. It started to jerk its head, uncomfortable with how she was being handled. “Don’t touch the horns,” her voice stern but low.

There was a time before history. Before words. Before sanity.

Thunder booms in the distance as his hand brushed against her soft cheek, his callous hand a rough contrast against her skin. Rain pelts down onto their bodies as they meet each other's gaze, for what could be the final time. He cups her cheek and lets out a breath, tucking a wet strand of hair behind her ear. “My love...” He starts, his voice shaky and broken, just like his heart. “Don’t.”

Katies life was never easy. She would often get bullied at school and even by her own father at home with no one to stop it. Her life would become worse when her mom died of cancer and she changed schools where the kids would become violent towards her. Even her sister moved out because she couldn't stand the abuse from their father... Katie would now the main target of her father and that meant the abuse would get worse for her too. The only comfort in her misrable life was her cat names…

"Breaking news tonight. Authorities have discovered the remains of four local Yakuza members in the Port District." The news anchor’s voice crackled from the TV. Her face flickered ghostly blue against yellowed, peeling wallpaper. Bad reception. Static danced across her eyes like digital maggots.

A cold snowflake greets the warm skin of my face, melting immediately. I ignore the sensation and look forward instead, just like the rest of my group. “Holy shit! The legends did have some truth in them!” Jess yells over the howling wind. David shakes his head: “I’ve been telling you this a thousand times! This is the whole reason for this expedition.” He can’t contain his excitement. I look at the snow-covered ruins.