A creeping dread clings to me, a shadow not my own, a phantom limb of a forgotten past. It’s not simply following; it’s burrowing into me. I feel its phantom nails raking across my skin, a constant, agonizing itch that no amount of scratching can relieve. It shoves, not with force, but with insidious pressure, a relentless push against my sanity. It’s as if it’s trying to bore through me, to create hollow spaces inside where only its presence can reside. The pain is a constant, gnawing companion. When I try to speak, to beg for understanding, a searing lance of agony pierces my eye, blinding me momentarily. Then comes the whispering campaign, the insidious lies it weaves about me, twisting my past into a monstrous caricature. It whispers that I once pushed someone, a single act twisted into a lifetime of malice. Now, this… thing has returned to repay the debt, to push back, to pinch and torment until I’m a broken husk. It doesn’t just follow; it invades. It drowns me in my ...
This site comprises of "2minhorrorstories", true experiences of horror, supernatural, dark magic experienced by individuals like you and me, in and around rural areas. Short Stories narrated by your grandparents, your parents, your uncle, your distant cousin, your hostel warden, your building's security guard, your childhood friends, while standing in the parking lot, while covered in warm quilt during a cold winter night, or while drinking warm tea standing in the corner of the market street.