Analoghorror Stories

This work was born from a real place of pain, isolation, and reflection. I haven't created content before because I wanted to build something meaningful, not just entertain. Some passages may be explicit, but each scene has a purpose: to show the invisible scars that society ignores. It's not gratuitous violence, it's memory. It's not morbid horror, it's a warning. There are no perfect heroes here, just broken humans who are still fighting. Thank you for reading something different.

AU of the roblox game wanted to make my own lore

The year is 2035 or 2027 or 2014 or 2000 or 1933. Ever since The Event, time has been unreliable. The laws of nature are constantly changing. Nothing makes sense. For the few survivors, the world is not the same. Welcome to The Zone. CONTENT WARNING: this story contains depictions of eating disorders and self harm. Influence from Stalker, Metro, and Backrooms as well as a plethora of sci fi manga. Expect dark themes Rated M for zoo wee Mama! Reader discretion advised.

Hetalia x Monument Mythos crossover. Some divergence from canon The loop begins again, but Nixon wants to play. What if the land above the horned serpent had a personification? America has always had a feeling he was different from other countries. Did other countries get thrown in a Giza glass box when they spoke out? Nope, just Alfred. Now he seeks answers to what really lives within his monuments. But how do you learn that there is an eldritch monster inside you? How do you cope with the result of your pyramid invention? How do you live with a gestalt of 17 soldiers who perceive lucky charms as a threat? (Comments and specific feedback are appreciated!) All credit goes to Hidekaze Himaruya and Alex Canasas

"I'VE BEEN WATCHING YOU WATCH THEM." You aren't just reading a story; you are accessing Case File #99-Beta. Recovered from the Oakhaven "Blind Spot" collection, these pages contain the only evidence of the Replacement Protocol and the disappearance of Maddie (Subject 04).

Tuyển tập oneshot, hứng thì viết lười thì dẹp

Static Signals follows Otis Vale, a quiet 28-year-old drifting through late-2012 city life like a ghost who never learned how to haunt. His job in data archiving is mindless, his apartment is decaying, and the world keeps slipping sideways when he isn't looking-walls shifting a few inches, static humming behind the plaster, televisions glowing when they're unplugged. Then the VHS tapes start arriving. Unmarked. Cold. Filming moments from Otis's life from angles no human could have recorded. Mundane scenes with something just slightly, terribly wrong-a moving shadow with no source, a whisper that plays backward, an elevator stopping on a floor that shouldn't exist. Iris Monroe, his coworker, is the only person who feels remotely real. Sharp, soft, grieving her own losses. They fall into each other slowly-late shifts, shared smokes on the fire escape, decoding strange files that show up on the company server. But when a tape shows her doing something she swears she never did, their fragile connection becomes tangled with the deeper mystery humming beneath the city. A forgotten psychological experiment from the 90s-Signal Room-might hold the truth about the tapes, the building, and why Otis's memories feel like someone else's handwriting. As reality glitches around them-rooms looping, timestamps shifting, people repeating phrases like corrupted recordings-Otis and Iris cling to each other as their last tether to what's real. the tapes are getting stranger. the static is getting louder. and the truth is trying to surface.

Hello guys I am a new analog horror maker that is working on getting an actual good budget to film my analog horror so for right now I am making it as a wattpad story I hope yall enjoy and yall are doing good

In the quiet, ordinary town of Briar Glen, Ohio, Max Merritt lives for the earnest magic of low-budget fantasy movies. He prefers the rubber monsters, painted storm clouds, and cardboard mountain ranges of his rented VHS tapes to the mundane reality of his suburban neighborhood. But when a chewed-up tape of Crown of the Seven Gates and a looming late fee from Moonlight Video force him out into the shifting shadows of a late summer evening, Max realizes his ordinary town might not be so ordinary after all. The line between the movies and reality begins to blur when a bizarre, inward-folding static infects his television set. As a collapsing white light takes the shape of a watching eye, Max is about to discover that the warnings in his favorite fantasy films might be more than just cheap special effects, and the gate might already be open.

Alone. Awake. Active. That's the requirements. At 11:30 PM, a popup will appear on your screen. Your clock will freeze at exactly 11:29 PM. A vague popup. Bold texts. Sliding from right to left. ALERT: YOU HAVE BEEN MARKED. ALERT: YOU HAVE BEEN MARKED. ALERT: YOU HAVE BEEN MARKED. Time becomes rushed. Time becomes meaningful. Time becomes your hope. Time becomes your nightmare. Each minute will feel like an hour of hell. The rules are simple. Survive for an hour. Survivors are documented. Each has their own story to tell. Each has their own trauma. Survive until 12:30 AM. This is the 12:30 PROTOCOL. ---xXx--- ©2026 ZydMix | ZM⭐ All Rights Reserved. No smut written or permitted❌❤️‍🔥 Only ZM⭐ vibes

I wrote this for my English class. I edited and felt like posting it here. If you're a fan of analog horror and psychological horror that's the lens I am approaching from. I don't have much of an actual description because this is my first time! Please do read though, I might make a part 2!

(Based On The YouTube Series) Hello. I Am Anthony Walls. This Is A Message About The Extinct Bunny Smiles Inc. I tried to get as much info as I could about what these tapes are, But I Know Who Is Doing This -Anthony Link:https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCNzZD3otfZVlIdvYYRRqNSw

A sequel to Mo's Achademy Book 1. game by SamsonXVI Written by Frenzy.

' ' look in the water. look in the water. look in the water. it's here. ' ' --- a group of friends venture throughout a forgotten and abandoned place in Romania. it's abandoned for a reason. felt like writing horror.... 👅💦

this was originally an end of year English short story! The short story is about the analog series Vita carnis and is an original adaptation, none of this is canon. the story follows the protagonist Elias Mercer, who has left Kamloops British Columbia for over two decades, but is now deciding to go back and deal with some unfinished business. to give back what it gave him. Dates might not be exactly accurate to the timeline of the analog horror, I tried my best :) this is a one-shot and will not be receiving any updates or more parts, if you like this kind of stuff leave a like!

"People don't realize how fantasy kills them..." That's what the girl with freckles said, just before the sunflowers started watching me. Louis and Mari were just two kids playing tag on a sunny hill. But when Mari vanishes into a field of flowers and Louis chases her, he doesn't find her-he finds something else. A world too colorful. A sky too blue. A sun that watches. And a girl in a white dress who smiles like she already won. Now Louis is trapped in a looping, glitching dream that looks like a cartoon but feels like hell. And the girl? She wants to play hide and seek. Forever. This isn't fantasy. It's a trap. And the game's already started.

| Everything's cleared up, just might stop writing this though for new ventures |

(This is a written version of a analog horror series that is currently in progress, it won't be all that good because this is my first time writing, thanks for your time!)

Infernal Requiem of the Cascades is an ongoing dark poetry archive exploring psychological fragmentation, industrial decay, corrupted memory, machine-like endurance, and the haunting silence left behind by emotional collapse. Blending cyberpunk atmospheres, ritualistic imagery, analog horror, glitch aesthetics, and existential free verse, each entry feels like a recovered transmission from abandoned cathedrals of static and fractured consciousness. Some poems read like hymns forged from machinery and grief. Some like system logs from collapsing minds. Some like requiems echoing through ruins where flesh, memory, and noise can no longer be separated. This collection is not about healing. It is about surviving the aftermath of distortion. Living through fractures. Listening to the static after the world goes quiet. Every upload expands the archive: a growing cascade of broken signals, iron halos, dead frequencies, forgotten prayers, and emotional ruins still searching for meaning beneath the noise. Genres: Dark Poetry • Free Verse • Industrial Horror • Cyberpunk • Glitchcore • Psychological • Experimental • Atmospheric Status: SIGNAL DETECTED THE VOID LISTENS STILL RENDERING.......

You were authorized to read this. You were not authorized to stop. SCP-004 is not an object, entity, or location. It is a process-one that remains stable only while someone is actively reviewing it. Personnel assigned to SCP-004 are required to maintain continuous procedural compliance. Missed review cycles correlate with containment failures across the facility. No direct connection has ever been proven. What begins as a routine administrative task slowly becomes something else entirely. If you are still reading, containment is holding. If you stop... ...someone else will notice. Reader discretion advised. This work is based on the SCP Foundation and is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 (CC BY-SA 3.0) license. All SCP-related concepts, terminology, and references originate from the SCP Wiki (www.scpwiki.com). This story is an original work written by me and is shared under the same license.