supernatural

The hidden world of all things supernatural; a look inside witchcraft, spells, vexes, black magic and other spine-tingling supernatural phenomena.

Lake has waves
That day didn't happen. The night had soaked itself into the hours and that feeling arose again, this unstable, gnawing feeling of intense need. It was itching underneath my skin, crawling and growing. Attaching itself to my bones, chafing. I stumbled back on the sand, pulling myself consciously away from the shore where the shrill of cold touched the digits of my feet. Pulling me from my hallucination, Emry wrapped her fingers around my arm, fake nails digging into my skin, I stepped further backwards. "I think we should all go to bed, have an early one."
By Madison Dell'aquila4 years ago in Horror
Serene Rex
Serene Rex The boots in the corner are his or were his and she has been ignoring them since she came back to their summer cabin. She sat in the car for an hour before coming inside but the sun was starting to go down and she had already lost the day. Her desire was an early morning arrival to get this place ready to be sold. She was sure it would be a mess outside but this was not the case she thought the basement would be flooded but Nathan’s repair seems to be holding.
By Whitney Davis 4 years ago in Horror
In a Cave by the Lake
The ferric smell of Farmer Ralph’s blood mixed with the funk of ripening cheese. Stout, sturdy, and sporting a crew-cut, this overall-wearing woman in her late sixties kept a stone face. She had a machete in one hand and pressed her other hand against her bleeding hip.
By J.S. Kohout4 years ago in Horror
Seven Times Seven
Yes, it is nearly 2330 hrs. October 30th, 2021, about forty-nine years ago, I sat in this same place. That night thirteen of us sat by this small lake and placed in the rushing stream. We drank large amounts of whiskey, rum, and associated alcoholic beverages, including some awful-tasting aged beer from India.
By Bruce Curle `4 years ago in Horror
Dark Water
She hadn’t recognized the boy in the first dream. No, not a dream, a nightmare. All the other nightmares that followed went the same way. She saw the boy, whoever he was, on the beach looking out at the ocean. Standing in the waves was something best described as a creature. The creature very much resembled a human, but had too many inhuman qualities. The skin covering this creature was grey, and prominent blue veins. Their fingers were webbed and their hands had nails that looked sharp and long. She never did see the face of the creature, and she certainly hoped she never would.
By Chelsey Staples 4 years ago in Horror
Nannuck - Grief Giver
~*~ My mother was a brilliant artist. In my earliest memories, I see her paint-splattered and smiling. From the mural on my bedroom wall to the still life in our dining room, the house bore her essence in every brush stroke. But no painting captured and retained more of her than Nannuck. Nannuck was her oil masterpiece, the product of nearly two years’ labor. The canvas drank her up like the cactus hoards water in the desert. What she created was incomparable. The painting was dark, with the illusion of light hidden just behind it. Lake Nannuck stretched nearly the length of the five foot canvas with only hints of the shores and wooded banks around the edges. The real substance was in the center of the lake. Her subtle impasto technique added a depth that was disconcerting to behold. So many shades of gray and charcoal intertwined to create a living entity, that lake. There, beyond the fog that appeared to be rolling gently over the water - there were the shadows.~*~
By Killian4 years ago in Horror
With Every Beat of My Heart
Drip, drip, drip, drip. Slow, steady, insistent. It came as an echo, as if within a cavern. It even chilled the air, that sound, that feel. It followed him from room to room. No time of day was spared. It came with the same pulsing rhythm, the same dull slapping. At first he thought a leaking faucet or remnants of a summer storm. He checked for worn washers, loose drainpipes, unattended-to cracks in the old roof. It was none of those. They called in plumbers and home inspectors, heating experts, roofers, and bug exterminators. None could locate the source. Indeed none could hear the drip, drip, drip but him.
By John Ouellet4 years ago in Horror
The Eidolon
Harlow was a place that I’d never visited, and for good reason. It was smack-dab in the middle of Sandhairn County: a no-man’s land, a region that would only show up on the map if you were charting Klan activity. No Black person in their right mind would drive there, and certainly not alone.
By Devin Dabney4 years ago in Horror
Báal
Persephone’s panicked breath left a trail of suspended vapor behind her as she sprinted frantically through the thick underbrush of the moonlit forest. The frigid snow beneath her bare feet crunched and cracked with each hasty step. Rogue branches tore at her hair and nightgown, leaving a helter-skelter array of fresh cuts and scratches across her thin frame. The bitter cold festered her anxiety—it was close; she could not tarry. She could hear the pursuit of footsteps trudging relentlessly behind her.
By Kellen Crawford4 years ago in Horror
The Invitation
You step onto the gangway, a shiver of anticipation running down your spine. Beneath you, grey fog obscures the surface of the water, small tendrils of it drifting up to tease at the spiky heels of the woman in front of you. As you watch it trail up long, bare legs, the woman gives an involuntary shudder, as though she’s been touched by something—or maybe someone—distasteful.
By Mare M.4 years ago in Horror
Shiny Eyes
I don't know when it began following me. Maybe it always was. I can't be sure, honestly. But I remember when I first noticed.
By K. W. Herrera4 years ago in Horror
Arms Float, Heads Don't
Arms float, heads don’t. You learn something new every day. Did you know that the human head is back-heavy? Thanks to your spinal cord, you’re unable to tell from your own. The closest you might ever get is to witnessing it is to cradle a baby’s in your palm, observing the way it hangs, unsupported by the strength of its upper back. Severed heads, however, roll, but only once. There’s not enough momentum and the skull isn’t spherical enough to get in a second spin. And heads that have been sitting at the bottom of Loch Dorchadas until bloated and blue, don’t roll at all. I’ve seen it myself.
By Nathan Humphrey4 years ago in Horror