vintage
Special effects may be lacking, but vintage horror films still manage to keep our palms sweating and blood pumping; a look back at retro horror films, stories, books and characters that prove everything is scarier in black and white.
The Best Horror Books of All Time – The House That Eats You
Okay, sit tight, this is a true what-did-I-just-read kind of horror story. So—there’s this stylish, confident young woman named Noemí Taboada. She lives in Mexico City in the 1950s. Think rich dresses, parties, jazz music—super glamorous, right?
By Silas Blackwood8 months ago in Horror
🩸 "The Thirteenth Room"
It started with a floor plan. Evelyn moved into the old Ashcroft building in late October, chasing a job and cheaper rent. The building was strange—tall and narrow, with creaky wood floors and a permanent draft—but it had character. And at night, the halls smelled faintly of lilac, like someone, somewhere, had spilled perfume years ago that never faded.
By Pir Ashfaq Ahmad8 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
Don’t Play in the Red Room
I’m going to tell you something weird that happened to my cousin Ayaan when he was 11. And no, this isn’t a joke. It all started with a creepy link. You know how sometimes your friends send you weird stuff? Like "Don’t Google this!" or "Watch this video alone at night"? Well, one night, Ayaan was in his room playing games on his laptop. He had just finished watching some horror YouTubers and was feeling kind of brave. Then he got a message from his friend Zara. It was just a link with the words: “Have you played Red Room? Only for brave kids.” He clicked it. The screen went black. Then red text appeared: “Welcome to the Red Room. You have 5 minutes. Can you survive?” There was a timer. 5:00… 4:59… 4:58… At first, Ayaan thought it was just a scary game. The screen showed a red room—like, literally all red, with a single wooden chair in the middle. In the corner, there was a dark door with a handle. The game said: “Click the door when you’re ready. But once you enter, you can’t leave.” He clicked the door. Duh. What 11-year-old wouldn’t? Inside was another room—but this time, it looked like his bedroom. Same posters, same bed, same cracked corner in the ceiling. The only difference? The colors were all weird. The walls were red, and everything looked… dusty. Like it hadn’t been touched in years. Then he saw the chat box at the bottom: “Ayaan, we’ve been waiting for you.” He froze. How did the game know his name? He typed: “Who is this?” The game replied: “You. But not the you from here.” Suddenly, the camera moved by itself and turned toward the mirror in the corner of the red bedroom. And there was another Ayaan in it. Same face. Same clothes. But this one… was smiling too big. Ayaan shut his laptop so fast he almost cracked the screen. He was sweating. His heart was hammering in his chest. But when he looked up… The walls of his real room looked a little darker. And his mirror was foggy. Like someone had breathed on the inside. He didn’t sleep well that night. He kept the lights on. Every time he blinked, he saw that red room in his mind. He thought it was over. But the next morning, something terrifying happened. He was brushing his teeth, and in the mirror, his reflection blinked a second too late. Like a delay in a bad video call. He screamed. His mom came in, but of course, she didn’t see anything. Mirrors don’t act creepy when adults are around. The next day at school, Ayaan asked Zara about the link. She looked confused. “What link?” “The Red Room game you sent me,” he said. She shook her head slowly. “I never sent you anything last night.” His blood went cold. That night, when he turned on his laptop, it turned on by itself before he even touched it. The Red Room game was open. The timer was back. 5:00... But this time, the message read: “You left the door open. He’s already crossed over.” He slammed the laptop shut again and ran to his parents. They didn’t believe him. Just told him to stop watching creepy videos and focus on school. But things kept getting worse. His mirror started whispering at night. Just soft words he couldn’t fully understand—like a crowd mumbling behind a closed door. And every night at 3:00 a.m., he’d hear footsteps in his room. But when he turned on the light—no one was there. Until one night… He woke up to his closet door wide open. And in the mirror, he saw two Ayaans. One in bed. And one standing behind him. Except when he turned around—there was nothing there. But the reflection stayed. The other Ayaan looked at him. Smiled. Then reached toward the glass, like he was trying to pull himself out. Ayaan screamed louder than ever before. The lights in his room exploded. His laptop fried. And the next morning, he had deep scratches on his arms he couldn’t explain. Now here’s the creepiest part. After that night, Ayaan… changed. He stopped talking about the Red Room. Stopped laughing. And sometimes, Zara said, he just stared at people without blinking, like he was studying them. His parents said he was “just going through something.” But one time, Zara slept over. She swears that in the middle of the night, she saw Ayaan standing in front of the mirror—talking to it. And the voice that replied? Wasn’t his. 💀 The Ending Ayaan’s mirror broke one morning. Shattered without anyone touching it. They replaced it. But now, every mirror in the house shows Ayaan’s reflection smiling—even when he’s not. And if you ever see him online, don’t click his messages. Because rumor says… the other version of Ayaan is still sending links. And if you get one that says: “Want to play in the Red Room?” Whatever you do... Don’t click.
By Silas Blackwood8 months ago in Horror
Season 2 : The Hollowing: How a Village’s Children Became Vessels for Something Older
Chapter 9: The Child Who Could Not Dream April 6th, 1982 – 3:03 AM The orphanage slept. Every window now blacked out, as though reality itself had stopped reflecting. The clocks had ceased ticking, and in every room .... even in the staff quarters .... mouths twitched silently in shared torment.
By Tales That Breathe at Night8 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
The Mirror Guest
It all started with an old mirror. You see, mirrors are supposed to reflect what is. But what if they start showing you things that shouldn't be there? What if they remember things you never did, faces you never wore, or worse—someone else inside them?
By Silas Blackwood8 months ago in Horror
The Hollow Village . Content Warning. AI-Generated.
The Curse of Velgrad In the heart of Eastern Europe, surrounded by thick, gnarled forests and forgotten trails, lay a desolate place known only to a few as Velgrad. Time had erased its name from most maps, and the villagers who once lived there had vanished a hundred years ago without a trace.
By Jack sparrow 8 months ago in Horror
Teacher's Camp, Baguio: The Philippines' Most Haunted Heritage Site
The Spooky Past and Ghostly Whispers of Baguio, Teachers Camp Perched at Leonard Wood Road in the Philippines' summer capital, Teachers Camp stands on top of a colonial treasure and spine-tingling ghost stories. Its early start in 1908 as an American and Filipino teachers' training camp (most especially the "Thomasites") belies a tempestuous past behind the camp's peaceful exterior which upholds its reputation as the country's most haunted haunt.
By Kyrol Mojikal8 months ago in Horror
