art

Art that’s as dark as it is evocative; discover horror-inspired artwork, from twisted mutations of classic paintings, chilling sculptures, spooky photography and more.

The Girl Who Never Woke Up
The Girl Who Never Woke Up When Zara was sixteen, she fell asleep during a cold winter evening, never to wake up again.
By Noman Afridi8 months ago in Horror
Last Minute of the World
The sky had never looked like that before. It wasn’t just the color—a bleeding red smeared across the heavens like an old wound reopened—but the way it hung heavy, as if the air itself was tired of holding up existence. The clocks had stopped ticking. The satellites had fallen. And the world… waited.
By TrueVocal8 months ago in Horror
The Woman from My Dreams — Then I Saw Her in Real Life
The Woman from My Dreams — Then I Saw Her in Real Life It started with a dream. Not the kind you forget by morning. Not the kind that fades with coffee.
By Noman Afridi8 months ago in Horror
Possessed by the Phone: A Jinn Inside the Device
Possessed by the Phone: A Jinn Inside the Device I had just moved to a new city for university. Money was tight, so I bought a second-hand smartphone from a quiet electronics shop tucked into a dark corner of a bazaar. The shopkeeper — an old man with unusually pale eyes — placed the device in my hands with a strange warning:
By Noman Afridi8 months ago in Horror
The Silent Boy Who Never Grew Up
The Silent Boy Who Never Grew Up I had just accepted a new job as the night custodian of an old orphanage in the outskirts of Lahore. It was called Dar-ul-Zia, a crumbling colonial-era building wrapped in mist and memory. The pay wasn’t great, but I needed the peace.
By Noman Afridi8 months ago in Horror
"I Found a Hidden Room in My House"
I Found a Hidden Room in My House I never expected to inherit anything from my great-uncle. He was the kind of relative you heard about only at funerals—quiet, distant, strange. When he passed away in 2022, I received a letter from his lawyer informing me that I’d inherited his house. No explanation, just a key and an address scribbled on thick parchment.
By Ali Asad Ullah8 months ago in Horror
The Farmer and the King of Beasts
The wind carried dust across the quiet village of Bhairavpur. Crops rustled in the distance, and the sun was still a sleepy orange on the horizon. In this rural corner of northern India, life moved slowly. Predictably. That morning, it was supposed to be just another day in the fields. Raghu, a seasoned farmer whose skin bore the sun’s hard touch and whose hands told the story of decades of labor, rose before the roosters. At fifty-eight, his bones ached more than they used to, but he had no time to complain. The land didn’t wait for anyone. He picked up his sickle, wrapped a cotton cloth around his head, and stepped outside. The scent of earth greeted him like an old friend. His wife, Leela, handed him a tiffin. “Don’t forget what they said last night,” she murmured. “There was another animal sighting. Near the southern boundary.” Raghu waved a hand dismissively. “It’s probably a jackal. They scare easily.” But something in Leela’s eyes stayed with him longer than he expected. A shadow of worry. Raghu walked the familiar path between houses, past the well, and toward the open expanse of farmland. He noticed the silence—no dogs barking, no early bird songs. Still, he pressed on. Work was waiting. By midmorning, the sun stood bold in the sky. Raghu’s shirt clung to his back with sweat as he worked the edge of his wheat field, inspecting the stalks. Each step he took was careful. He bent, checked roots, trimmed leaves. Then something changed. A subtle sound—too heavy for a dog, too deliberate for the wind. He paused, hand tightening around the handle of his sickle. The rustling came again. This time, closer. Raghu looked up, scanning the line where the field met the wild scrub beyond. What he saw made his stomach twist. There, between two rows of sugarcane, stood a lion. It was not a figment of fear or heatstroke. Its presence was real. Terrifyingly real. Its golden fur caught the sunlight like flame. Eyes like molten amber locked onto Raghu’s. The distance between them was too small for comfort. Twenty, maybe thirty feet at most. Time slowed. His heart slammed against his ribs, loud enough to drown out everything else. He knew stories—village whispers about wildcats leaving the reserve. Most were exaggerated. But this… this was no exaggeration. The lion stepped forward. Raghu didn’t move. He didn’t run. Instinct screamed at him to flee, but every part of his soul knew better. He had no weapon, no cover. He was prey if he made one wrong move. The lion stopped again, paw settling on the soft earth. There was no roar. No growl. Just heavy breath and crushing tension. The air grew thick with heat and adrenaline. Raghu’s grip tightened on his sickle, not as a weapon, but as a tether to the moment—to his courage.
By Ali8 months ago in Horror
The Most Terrifying Night of My Life – True Story. Content Warning. AI-Generated.
I never believed in ghosts, spirits, or anything supernatural. I always thought horror stories were just exaggerated tales to scare kids or boost movie sales. But everything changed one stormy night in July 2021.
By Shayan Khan8 months ago in Horror
ULF RECOMMENDS: HERETIC (2024). Content Warning.
Disclaimer: There is no way to handle this movie without mention of religion and the challenging of faith. ---------------------
By That ‘Freedom’ Guy8 months ago in Horror
The Girl in the Window
It all started with a boy named Ravi. He was 12, quiet, loved drawing, and had just moved into a very old house with his parents in a small village. The house had peeling wallpaper, creaky wooden floors, and—this is important—a single narrow window in his bedroom, facing the woods behind the house.
By Silas Blackwood8 months ago in Horror
When the Walls Start Whispering
I. Introduction Elena sat alone in the car, engine idling, staring at the cottage as rain misted the windshield. The GPS had stopped working ten miles back, and her phone clung to its last bar of reception. But she was here. At the edge of town. Far enough from memory, from noise, from the version of herself she no longer recognized.
By Muhammad Sabeel8 months ago in Horror
The House That Breathed in the Dark: A Psychological Horror Story You Won’t Forget
I. The Return Samantha never believed in ghosts. As a child, she’d spent summers in her grandmother’s Victorian on Morley Street—where pipes groaned, floorboards shifted, and mirrors sometimes fogged with no heat at all. But she never truly believed. Not in the stories whispered by older cousins. Not in the way her grandmother always locked the crawlspace hatch at night. And certainly not in the tales of people who disappeared and were never found.
By Muhammad Sabeel8 months ago in Horror