Folkhorror Stories

A quiet town discovers that they were not the only ones having a good night sleep when a visitors awakens to let them know about it.

Éris siempre ha estado enamorado en secreto de Danna. Cuando ella lo invita al campamento anual en los densos bosques de Camelot, él ve la oportunidad perfecta para acercarse, a pesar de la hostil presencia de Robbie, el matón de la escuela. Sin embargo, el viaje se transforma en una pesadilla cuando el grupo cruza los límites del territorio de los Isola, una tribu aislada con leyes ancestrales e implacables. Tras quedar perdidos en la espesura, Éris y Danna presencian un macabro ritual y son descubiertos, desatando una cacería despiadada. Con el campamento reducido a cenizas y silbidos inhumanos pisándoles los talones en una huida desesperada, la pareja deberá confiar el uno en el otro para sobrevivir a una noche donde el amor será su único refugio contra la locura.

A collection of Short Horror Stories by yours truly.

*Cada semana, una historia diferente. Cada historia, un miedo distinto.* HORRORES NOCTURNOS es una antología de relatos de terror donde ningún cuento se parece al anterior: lo sobrenatural que acecha en lo cotidiano, el folk que guarda lo que los ancestros no quisieron nombrar, el horror cósmico que reduce al ser humano a polvo, el gore que no pide disculpas. Lo que tienen en común es lo que les da nombre: la noche. Y lo que dejan al terminar. Un relato nuevo cada semana. Entra cuando quieras. Sal cuando puedas. - El horror comienza una vez que abres los ojos -

Mara has done something unforgivable. Locked away in the king's dungeons, she believes her life is over-until she's summoned to speak with the Moss King himself, who offers her a bargain: Save his daughter from the dragon within 77 nights, and she walks free. When Mara meets the mysterious and enigmatic Eris, a shapeshifter Faery with her own debt to settle, the two set out on their missions together-Eris promising to get Mara to the dragon's den alive, in exchange for her blood. But once Eris leads Mara into the strange and dark world of Dracul Peak, Mara realizes she may have stumbled into something far bigger than she ever imagined. TW: Psychological abuse and torture, animal cruelty, PTSD, Implied Child abuse. Please take care of yourself!

Edmund comes to the remote village of Black Thickett to escape the life grief has carved out of him. He wants silence. Distance. A place where memories can't follow. But Black Thickett is wrong in quiet, unsettling ways. The broken road becomes perfectly smooth the moment he crosses the boundary. The cottages are too neat, too deliberate. And on a noticeboard full of dry flyers, only one poster is wet. A missing boy, smiling as if he doesn't know he's lost. The villagers won't talk about the disappearances. The forest at the edge of the village seems to breathe, and the deeper Edmund goes, the calmer he feels... dangerously calm. The forest can quiet his pain. It can ease his grief. It can make him forget. But not everything that heals you wants you to survive. Welcome to Black Thickett, where you'll find my entry into the ONC 2026.

Story Description ( para sa Wattpad) Sa dulo ng bakuran ay nakatayo ang isang lumang bahay mula pa noong panahon ng Hapon. Sabi ng matatanda, doon ikinulong at pinahirapan ang mga bihag-at ang kanilang mga kaluluwa ay nanatili roon. Nang mawala ang alagang pusa ni Aira at pumasok siya sa bahay, natagpuan niya hindi lang ang kanyang pusa... kundi ang kapalarang hindi na niya matatakasan. Story Teaser (for Wattpad Descriptions) "Ikaw ang magiging kapalit... ikaw ang susunod na litrato." Additional Story Teaser (for Wattpad Description) "Sa bawat litrato, may nawawalang mukha... at may bagong kaluluwa ang nakakulong."

Year: 1974 - Kerman Province, Iran In the shadow of Jabal Barez, where the desert kisses the mountains, eight villages made a blood-oath beneath a crimson moon: "Never speak of Mahfam. Never walk its soil. For those who enter... do not return." They called it "The Village of the Jinn." Its name meant "Moonlight" in ancient Persian - Mahfam - but the elders whispered it was named for the pale glow of the full moon on the night the jinn held their weddings. No one knew if Mahfam was real. No one wanted to know. Until the night eighteen children vanished without a trace.

Agnivan Camp is the perfect escape until you notice whispers echo through the trees. As strange events unfold and the shadows of the past creep closer, the visitors realize that some places remember more than they should.

Emok comes to write about places that survived history. Instead, he finds one that remembers it. Alongside Engoy, a quiet man shaped by war and old beliefs, he learns that some presences don't announce themselves with violence-but with expectation. It's the start of their wild adventure.

They wait at the edge of the light, watching Greta with eyes that glow like burning coals. Teeth grinding back and forth, waiting for her to break the commandments. Once, she had a mother to protect her. Once, she had medicine to keep the sickness away. Now she only has the prayers that don't work. Greta thinks she is safe behind locked doors. She thinks the walls will hold. She is wrong.

It is often said that the world is woven with meaning, that every blade of grass bends under the weight of destiny and every trembling leaf is a message from the gods. But then, most people will believe anything if it means they don't have to contemplate the howling, empty darkness of uncertainty. In Marrowind, belief is a kind of ugly glue. It seals the cracks, and it binds together the pieces no rational mind would think to keep. Every so often, the glue cracks, and reality-raw, bloody, and unblinking-seeps through. The realm is split between what it claims to know and the secrets it refuses to admit exist. The smallfolk hide behind their prayers and rituals, masking fear with piety; lords and ladies wield power with all the subtlety of a rusted sword, always one betrayal away from ruin. And then there are those who make their way in the wild places, negotiating with things that ought not exist at all-things with eyes like coins and laughter like frost splitting stone.

When Etta inherits her grandmother's house in a dying southern town, she expects dust and silence, not cassette tapes that whisper buried confessions, and not bloodroot blooming where no sun touches. But the house remembers. And the deeper Etta digs into the garden, and herself, the more she begins to question what was forgotten... and what was buried alive. Some memories rot. Others grow.

Welcome to The Fort - where folk horrors and eldritch terrors meet! The Fort is a town like a thousand other small and stubborn settlements, put where it doesn't belong in a land most unforgiving. There amongst the other townsfolk, live the LaPonte family. Mildred, and Mark - along with their 2 wonderful children. They live in a quaint house; modest and rundown, but very much a home filled with love. But all in not well in The Fort.... Dark forces look in on the LaPonte Family, through the windows, standing at the edge of their property where their land meets the overgrown and wild edges of a persistent, and creeping wilderness. Above, below, and beside are vast worlds of slumbering, malevolent creatures of existentially ambiguous origins, waiting to devour all.

Greywater was supposed to be safe. Small town. Friendly neighbors. Quiet streets. Just one problem: The smell. Everyone says you stop noticing it eventually. But when people begin acting strange, skin starts peeling, and whispers of something called Rotbreathers spread through town, one girl starts paying attention. Because the closer she looks, the worse the smell gets. And something downstairs is breathing.

A short horror story - Part 1 What started as a simple mix-up turned into something else entirely. Would you stay on the bus... if it stopped by the cemetery? 👻 Let me know if I should post Part 2... #horrorstories #shortfiction #busridegonewrong #halloweenstory #creepypasta

When five teenage boys hike to an abandoned town deep in the Appalachian wilderness, they expect a weekend of exploration and legend-chasing. But something in Lost Cove has been waiting for them. Something old. Something that marks and chooses. As the forest folds in around them, one by one they begin to disappear, and the only way out may be through a preacher who never stopped preaching.

When children at a small-town festival are invited to make paper dolls with red string hair, no one suspects anything sinister. But when the kids begin vanishing one by one - and strange dolls start appearing in their place - three teens uncover a dark pattern that stretches back generations. Something ancient has been copied and folded into existence again and again - a living curse passed through scissors, string, and innocent hands. To stop it, they must unfold what should never have been made. But in trying to end the story, they may only be writing the next chapter. Because some legends don't die. They just wait to be folded again.