#horror

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

Content warning: child death 1

The Day I Rise From The Dead Episode 1: Cursed From Birth The sun always shined a little brighter on Alestia.

I watched as my father coughed and wheezed himself into an early grave. Every breath sounded as though his lungs were densely packed with small stones. He lay on the floor, naked aside from a thin blanket, and did only two things: cough and sleep. By spring, he had found his way deep within the West Virginia earth. My daddy was a coal miner, like his daddy, and his daddy before him.

Editor's note: The following pages were found on the laptop of Elena K., a doctoral student at the Art History Institute in Zurich, who has been missing since March 14th. Her advisor passed the file on to us with the request to publish it — maybe someone recognizes something, maybe someone comes forward. We have changed nothing in the text. The image related to her notes is shown above. Please look at it while you read, for better understanding. Aside from this file, only one other thing was…

“HELP!” I yell, at least I believe I’m yelling, the feeling of my skin bubbling, is it bubbling… I don’t know. I can feel it, but I don’t know if it is what I think it is. I am or at least what I believe I am… I don’t know. It’s cold wait what does cold feel like again sigh I think I sighed. My body grows old and decayed, my flesh turning a colour I cannot perceive, my hair falling out of my grotesque scalp or what’s left of it. He… no, IT did this. My senses have been stripped away from me, I…

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.

Once upon a time, back to when I was young. I played and laughed with the shadows of my room. A fall night, she came. late into the night, in her violet dress and veil; she spoked softly to me. "Little one, why still wide wake?" she asked. I didn't reply, I didn't speak. I stared at her.

Having just finished my Master’s in Classical archaeology, I decided to celebrate by trekking my way through Italy. I spent about a week in Rome seeing the usual sites and eventually I made my way south down to Sorrento.  But backpacking through Italy wasn’t just for leisure, it was actual fieldwork — well, sort of.

Starting this blog because I don't know where else to put this. I've spent the last few weeks going through case files that keep showing up in different countries, different years, no obvious connection between them. Police never cross-referenced any of it. I think I know why now. If any of this sounds familiar to you, message me. I need to know I'm not the only one who's noticed the pattern.

There are plenty of abandoned places at Walt Disney World. Most people know about River Country. But there was another one. A place almost nobody remembers. Willie’s Fishin’ Adventure! It opened on February 16, 2002. Exactly four years later, on February 16, 2006, it closed. And that was supposed to be the end of it. It wasn't. I first heard about Willie’s Fishin’ Adventure! because of an old attraction list.

I never really did want to go to that Christmas party, but I have to say it turned out all right in the end. The Christmas party was to be held on the great stage at the Opera House downtown, and it was open to all employees of the law firm Goble & Mundorff and their immediate families.  That last part was a problem for my brother Henry and me, because our mom was a paralegal at G&M, and she’d made it clear that she expected us to put in an appearance.

I used to believe that the worst thing that could happen at a restaurant was getting food poisoning. I was wrong. My name is Emily Carter, and what happened to me three years ago is something I still cannot explain without feeling like I am going to be sick. I have never told the entire story to anyone. Not my friends, not the police, and certainly not my father. Maybe writing it down is the only way I can finally get it out of my head.

​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.…

The nonstop pitter-patter of the cold rain against my bedroom window set the mood. I found myself rubbing my eyes, unable to follow the now swaying lines. My book was a jumbled mess of dyslexic text. I spent another minute trying to decipher the words, but my exhausted state of mind could not put meaning to them. I folded the top right corner of the page and gingerly placed Bram Stoker’s, Dracula, back on the windowsill.

I’ve been a Cleaner at the Association for six years now, and in that time, I’ve seen my fair share of strange and horrifying things. I still can’t decide what’s worse—the half-decayed corpses of creatures that shouldn’t exist or the Wardens, walking around freely, who can transform into absolute monsters in the blink of an eye. But the strangest, most unsettling experience of my life didn’t involve blood or gore. It involved a series of conversations I’ll never forget.

I was eleven years old when it happened. It was Halloween night, and my parents had gone out with my aunt to a party across town, planning to stay overnight at a hotel and return the next afternoon. That left me at home with my seventeen-year-old sister, Jessie, and our older cousin, Hannah. I absolutely adored Hannah; she was the fun, cool older cousin who always brought us treats and took us on adventures.

By the end of the spring semester of our senior year, the state of mind for me and my friends could be described simply as “burned out”. The semester was hard on all of us, and we desperately needed a reset for our brains. I’ve never been one to make plans and this time around was no different. I knew that if I waited long enough, Steven or Josh would make plans for us. “You guys are going to love this idea!” Steven said with way too much enthusiasm as he walked into our dorm.

There was this tiny indie horror movie that basically nobody had seen. I don't even remember how we found it. Maybe TikTok, or maybe someone on Reddit recommended it. It had one of those titles that sounded way cooler after you finished watching it than before, and it looked like it had a budget of maybe twenty dollars. Somehow it still worked. It wasn't really scary in the traditional sense. There weren't any monsters or cheap jump scares. It was just... unsettling.

I'm going to die here, or maybe I can't. The only thing I have here is a pen that never seems to run out, and this book that has infinite pages and funnily enough is waterproof. I originally woke up in a strange room with yellow wallpaper, fluorescent lights that hummed, smelling the mold and mildew infesting the walls.