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 Haunted Tower of London: Dark History, Ghost Stories, and Royal Tragedies
For almost a thousand years, the Tower of London has loomed along the River Thames as one of the most recognized—and spookiest—sites in the United Kingdom. Originally constructed by William the Conqueror in the 11th century, the Tower was first and foremost a fortress designed to secure Norman domination of England. However, as the Tower grew and matured as a structure and as a symbol of British history, it would come to serve many purposes simultaneously— royal residence, prison, treasury, armory, and even site of execution—no wonder it is associated with so many stories of ghosts and otherworldly experiences.
By Kyrol Mojikal3 months ago in Horror
The Echoing Asylum of Silaos: Where the Patients Never Left | SEASON 2
Chapter 7 FATHER ELIAS’S JOURNAL: Entry 3: The Queen is not a demon, but a soul. A very angry, very vengeful soul. She is the mother of the asylum. Her spirit, and her profound grief, is what has been feeding on the patients' madness. She is what has been devouring them. She is the keeper of the lost. And she is now enraged.
By Tales That Breathe at Night3 months ago in Horror
Oracle.ink. Content Warning.
It started as a joke. That’s the part I keep coming back to. The app was called Oracle.ink. Clean interface. Almost aggressively minimalist. No developer name, no company page—just five-star reviews and a single line beneath the logo:
By hiba abo shawish3 months ago in Horror
Something Knocks After Midnight
The knocking started after midnight, which is how I knew it wasn’t normal. Normal sounds belong to daylight. Footsteps, doors, voices. Even the house itself has a language you learn over time—the sigh of cooling pipes, the tick of wood contracting, the occasional complaint from an old foundation. These sounds have rhythm. They repeat. They make sense.
By LUNA EDITH4 months ago in Horror
That Same Old Refrain
Misery or Missouri. I'm sure there's a bad pun there. As two local boys with long-established heritage in the state, we knew better than most how easily small town existenz can chew you up and spit you out. Strum, strum, strum, strum, strum, The strumming reverberated from the banjo upon my father's lap through the floorboards to my soul. ingratiating into me a sense of ... Nothingness. Seems I hear those banjos playin' once again, Hum, hum, hum, hum, hum, That same old plaintive strain. As boys we felt the growing strain of Arrow Rock living. Moonshine tainted blood passed from generations supped on from the Ozarks. Hear that mournful melody, It just haunts you the whole day long, And you wander in dreams back to heaven, it seems, When you hear that old time song. Recounted and recalled as. Something like naustalgea. Hush-a-bye ma baby, go to sleep on Mommy's knee, Journey back to paradise in dreams again with me; It seems like your Mommy is there once again, Even after she disappeared in Marvel Cave or was it Taberville Prairie. Memories are so fickle, so lost on plaintive strain of existenz. And the old folks were strummin' that same old refrain. Binaurally as we waved hush-a-bye to our childhood Thomas looked like Mommy did. Then. Nothingness. Too late. Too beyond. I was once. Aware. But awarenez dissolved. Way down in Missouri where I learned this lullaby, When the stars were blinkin' and the moon was climbin' high, And I hear Mammy Cloe, as in days long ago, Singin' hush-a-bye.
By Paul Stewart4 months ago in Horror
