Mary I'm On the First Step
- LECTURAS 80
- Votos 4
- Partes 3
My grandmother Grace was always strange-quirky, superstitious, haunted by rituals that seemed less like eccentric habits and more like rehearsals.
She never left a door open behind her. She whispered warnings to no one in particular.
And she never, ever spoke her twin sister's name after sundown.
When Grace was ten, her family moved to a quiet farmhouse on the edge of Dutch Country-an old, rotting thing with shadows that moved like they had somewhere to be. That's when the voice began.
Each night, it came calling for Mary, step by step, always closer.
No one else heard it. No one else believed her.
But one night, the voice reached the top of the stairs.
And by morning, Mary was gone.
No body. No footprints.
Only a small tear in her bedsheet-curved, like something slipped through.
Some doors don't slam shut behind you.
Some open from the other side.
Join FearFables moderator Martin in this dark tale...
Todos los derechos reservados
#182
scary
Únete a la comunidad narrativa más grandeObtén recomendaciones personalizadas de historias, guarda tus favoritas en tu biblioteca, y comenta y vota para hacer crecer tu comunidad.
Quizás también te guste
Whispers in the Walls
When 17-year-old Mara Lane moves into her late grandmother's crumbling Victorian house, she thinks the creaks and whispers are just part of old architecture. But the voices grow louder. The shadows move when they shouldn't. And every night, someone-or something-climbs the stairs to her room. The locals say the house is cursed. Mara's family says she's grieving. But the house says nothing... except her name. Something is buried beneath the floorboards-and it wants out.Concluida
Whispers in the Dark
There are doors we aren't meant to open. Shadows we aren't meant to follow. Names we should never say out loud. This book is full of them. What you're holding is not just a collection of stories-it's a cabinet of whispers, a lantern lowered into places where the light doesn't reach. Inside, you'll find echoes of old folklore that refuse to die, modern horrors born from the glow of our own devices, and visions of futures that feel far too close to tomorrow. Some are short glimpses, sharp as a blade in the dark. Others sprawl long enough to trap you inside them. All of them are meant to unsettle. You may recognize some tales. The hitchhiker who never arrives at her destination. The children are singing a song no adult remembers. The figure at your window when you live twenty stories up. But here, the familiar turns feral. The safe stories you thought you knew will twist, growing teeth in the telling. Be warned: these stories are not designed for comfort. They're meant to crawl beneath your skin, to follow you after you've shut the book, to linger in the silence of your room when the night is at its deepest. Read them in daylight, if you must. But if you choose to read them in the dark, with only the sound of your own breathing for company-don't say you weren't warned when something in the quiet starts breathing back. Turn the page if you're ready. The stories are waiting. And some of them already know your name.
Bound by Blood and Flame
The night was thick with smoke and shadows when Amatista Cruz kicked open her grandmother's door in East Los Angeles. "¡Abuela!" she cried, her voice slicing through the choking air. Inside, the room pulsed red-unholy red-from a crack in the floor where fire licked upward like a serpent's tongue. Esmeralda, her abuela, was being pulled down by scorched, skeletal hands. Her silver hair floated like smoke as she fought, crying prayers in broken Nahuatl. Amatista didn't hesitate. She dove, arms wrapping around Esmeralda's waist as the hellish pull fought to claim her. A monstrous voice echoed from below: "The pact is sealed. Her soul is ours." But Amatista was no ordinary girl. She was born under a lunar eclipse, marked by obsidian veins that glowed faintly in her wrists-a sign of protection, her mother once said. With fire licking her legs, she screamed a single word taught to her by Esmeralda in childhood: "Tlazolteotl!" A burst of black and violet light exploded from her chest. The hellmouth shrieked. The hands recoiled. Esmeralda slumped into Amatista's arms as the crack sealed with a sound like breaking bones. Across the Atlantic Ocean, in a quiet Irish village blanketed in mist, seventeen-year-old Fionn Callahan was fighting his own demons. In his grandmother Rose's parlor, the fireplace had roared to unnatural life, flames turning green, then blue, then pitch black. From the hearth emerged a towering figure, a burning knight with hollow eyes and chains for arms. Rose had tried to run, but the chains had snagged her ankle, dragging her toward the fire. "Lass of the bloodline," it growled, "your time has come." Fionn acted on instinct. He grabbed his grandmother's rosary from the wall and held it high. But it wasn't faith alone that saved them-it was what lay dormant in him, a secret passed down from Druid blood. The rosary flared gold. Fionn shouted a word he didn't know he remembered: "Lúghlamfada!" saving his grandmother roseConcluida
𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐈𝐓
What if the door they warned you about... was the only one that called your name? What if the voice sounded familiar - like someone you lost? Would you open it? And when your reflection smiled back with eyes that weren't yours... would you still believe you were safe? What if you were the one possessed - but too aware to stop it? And what if the only people who could save you... were the ones already breaking? How do you fight a demon... when it's wearing your soul like skin?Concluida
The Witch in the Woods (Bill Cipher x reader)
A week has passed since Weirdmaggedon happened and Bill was 'defeated.' Everyone had already gone back to their normal lives under the 'forget-about-it' movement that was input. You did the same though it was less normal than everyone else's. You have a reputation around the town as a witch. Cliche, yes. Untrue, maybe. You suppose it stemmed from the potions and herbal recipes you tend to make for others. Or possibly from the fact that you live in the middle of the woods in a small house made of mainly wood. Either way, when Bill shows up at your doorstep looking worse for wear, you figure the only thing you can do is help him....But then what?Concluida
The horror book
🕯️ THE HORROR BOOK "You started reading. Now it's reading you." They say horror is fiction - but what if the stories you read started bleeding into your reality? A cursed collection of tales stitched together by pain, paranoia, and something watching from the dark. From ghost children with hollow eyes to cursed orchestras that play people to death, from vanishing houses to burial mounds that scream at night - every story in this book isn't just read... ...it's lived. And at the end of them all waits The Bound One - the final story that no reader forgets and no reader escapes. A story that watches back. This isn't just a horror anthology. It's a trap. And now you're inside it. Read if you dare. But don't say we didn't warn you. Believes say that if there is pure than there is evil, if there is light than there is dark, if there is magic than there is dark magic. Horror, fear, anxiety, anticipation, dark is all around us, some believes some doesn't but no matter what nobody can decline the mystery of alone nights...... 🌑 🪄 so this book helps enlighten all the creepy dark things happens at night when everybody is sleep some are awake and who else awake falls asleep forever ♾️Concluida
The Cabin in the Shadows
In a forgotten village, cloaked in darkness and whispered fears, there stood a cabin that no one dared approach. The air around it hummed with old secrets, and the villagers spoke in hushed tones of those who vanished, of voices that echoed through the trees when no one was there. One eerie afternoon, a child named Mia stood frozen before the cabin, her gaze locked onto something-or someone-inside. Beside her was Meya, her face a strange blend of awe and terror. Mia asked in a trembling voice, "Why do you come here?" Meya, unblinking, replied, her words cold as the wind, "Because they're waiting." Then, with a shudder, Meya turned to Mia and asked softly, "Can you see them?" That night, Meya disappeared, swept away from the village, as if erased from existence-her name never spoken again. Years later, Mia, now a senior in high school, returns to the village for a school sketching trip. What was meant to be a simple outing soon turns into something far darker when her class stumbles upon the old cabin. The stories, long dismissed as superstition, are more than true. The doors close behind them with a deafening finality, and the air thickens with something ancient and malignant. What waits inside is not meant to be seen, and once you enter, escape is no longer an option. Some will lose their sanity, their minds unraveling as they glimpse what lurks in the shadows. And some... never leave. Because the cabin isn't just a place. It's a trap. And it's been waiting for them all along.Concluida
A Stroll On Inverted Feet
[ HIGHEST RANK #21 in Horror ] What if your walking alone on a deserted road on a dark night and you get the feeling of being followed?? But when you turn around all you can feel is thin air! What if you are alone in your apartment at night and you hear footsteps near by when u know that nobody's returning home till morning. Well, these incidents can happen with anybody but when they happen they scare the shit out of you. This book is a compilation of such instances in form of short stories. Note: This is a new venture for me into this genre. I hope you like the book. Guys, if you really want something apart from ghostly activities and paranormal stuff as horror this book is worth a shot!Concluida
When 17-year-old Mara Lane moves into her late grandmother's crumbling Victorian house, she thinks the creaks and whispers are just part of old architecture. But the voices grow louder. The shadows move when they shouldn't. And every night, someone-or something-climbs the stairs to her room. The locals say the house is cursed. Mara's family says she's grieving. But the house says nothing... except her name. Something is buried beneath the floorboards-and it wants out.
Más detallesPautas de Contenido