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.

Why We Crave the Shadows?
Horror is often dismissed as a "cheap thrill"—a collection of jump scares and visceral shocks designed to elicit a scream. However, the most enduring horror stories are not about what hides under the bed, but what hides inside the human psyche. At its core, horror is a sophisticated psychological tool that allows us to explore our deepest anxieties within the safety of a narrative.
By Being Inquisitive3 days ago in Horror
Miserable Medina
Miserable Medina Medina's earliest memories aren't of gentle singing or laughter on the playground, but of hurried footsteps, whispered prayers, and distant gunfire. Born in South Sudan, a multicultural country still suffering from decades of conflict, her childhood was interrupted by a war she neither chose nor understood. Yet, amidst the chaos, a quiet strength began to sprout a strength that led her across borders to begin a new chapter in her life.
By McQueen Matt5 days ago in Horror
The Thing That Waits Between Heartbeats: Horror That Lives Not in Shadows but in Silence . AI-Generated.
The old stories got it wrong. They told us to fear the things that go bump in the night, the creaking floorboards, the shadows that move against the light. They filled our childhoods with monsters under beds and witches in closets, teaching us to dread the darkness as though it were the enemy. But the darkness was never the enemy. The darkness was just darkness—empty, passive, waiting. The real horror, the one we never name, is the thing that happens in the light. The moment you realize you are alone in a way that no other person can fix. The slow dawning that the silence around you is not temporary but permanent. The quiet terror of a life that has become uninhabited without ever quite becoming empty.
By HAADI6 days ago in Horror
The Ninth Hour of Malachi : SEASON 4
Chapter 12 (Climax and Immediate Aftermath) CHRONICLE LOG: Final entry in the retrieved portion of Father Pavel’s journal. The entry consists of only two words, written in a shaky, almost illegible hand, before the page is consumed by a jagged tear: "She awoke." The whereabouts of Father Pavel remain officially undisclosed.
By Tales That Breathe at Night7 days ago in Horror
The Girl Who Spoke to Shadows
The first time the lights flickered in Areeba’s room, she thought it was a wiring problem. The house was old—older than anyone in her family—and it made sounds that could easily be blamed on age. Wood expanded. Pipes groaned. Wind pressed softly against the windows at night. There was always a reasonable explanation.
By Sudais Zakwan15 days ago in Horror
The Elevator That Went Nowhere
Fahad worked late nights at a corporate building downtown. Most nights, he left quietly, riding the elevator alone, appreciating the silence after the chaos of fluorescent-lit offices and endless meetings. That night, everything felt off. The building was unusually cold, and the elevator smelled faintly of damp concrete. He pressed the button for the lobby and waited.
By Sudais Zakwan16 days ago in Horror
The Mirror That Blinked First
Clara had never believed in cursed objects. She believed in dust, in age, in poor lighting, in imagination — but never in the supernatural. That was why the mirror didn’t frighten her when she first saw it.
By Modhilraj19 days ago in Horror
The Ninth Hour of Malachi : SEASON 3
SEASON 3 Chapter 9 FATHER PAVEL’S PRIVATE JOURNAL: Entry dated November 5th, 2003. We found the root. It is a chamber beneath the foundation, clearly pagan. Ana is down here, but she is barely visible, encased in some type of crystalline growth...the stone has accepted the entity, and the girl is the final mortar. The anchor is here, not a relic, but a crude, petrified heart. Malachi will not yield until we destroy the physical core of its power.
By Tales That Breathe at Night23 days ago in Horror
The Mirror
The mirror had been there since before Ashley could remember. It stood in the hallway outside her bedroom — tall, dark-framed, slightly taller than it should have been for the wall it occupied. She had never questioned it. That was the thing about the mirror. It simply was, the way the floorboards were, the way the morning light fell crooked through the kitchen window. Unremarkable. Permanent.
By Parsley Rose 24 days ago in Horror
The Revenge of the Dead
This story takes us back fifteen years, when Asif and Rizwan were medical students. One day, while studying human anatomy in class, their teacher announced, “Dear students, after the upcoming two holidays for the Islamic festival, I will take a full test on the human skeleton.”
By Sudais Zakwan29 days ago in Horror
The Weight of a Secret
Arthur was a man who prided himself on his silence. In the small, salt-crusted village of Oakhaven, he was the local locksmith a trade that required nimble fingers and a closed mouth. People brought him their locked diaries, their rusted safes, and their heavy oak chests, and Arthur opened them all without a single question.
By Asghar ali awanabout a month ago in Horror
The Other Woman
The video had been playing for six minutes when Maya realized the woman was describing her nightmare. Not a nightmare. Her nightmare. The one she'd been having for three weeks straight, the one that left her gasping awake at 3 AM with the taste of smoke in her mouth and the phantom sensation of drowning. The woman on screen—pale, dark circles carved beneath her eyes—spoke in a monotone that made Maya's skin crawl.
By Parsley Rose about a month ago in Horror