morbid stories


Creepy girls you’re just my style, blood red lipstick you don’t smile, falling victim to your fantasy - damn, i love that you’re so creepy.”   | Pt. 2: X | Pt 3: X | Pt: 4:X


Griffith Park is a large urban park located in Los Angeles, and is the home to a world-renowned observatory, a popular zoo, and also the infamous “Hollywood” sign. It’s also said to be the most haunted park in the world, having been the scene of a number of paranormal events.

Probably the most well known ghost which lurks in this park is that of Don Antonio Feliz, the original owner of the land. Legend says that his niece, Dona Petranilla, became extremely broke after not inheriting any money from her uncle following his death. It’s said that she placed a curse on this plot of land which was said to follow each successive owner. Allegedly the ghosts of both Don and Dona aren’t peaceful, either, and on one occasion, Don’s spirit chased a group of men, horseback.

Some of the other ghastly figures which appear at night are that of a cryptozoological black-eyed creature  and also a young girl who was left to die in the park by her parents. It’s said that she can be seen walking around aimlessly, as if lost. Another is of the failed actress, Peg Entwistle, who committed suicide by jumping from the Hollywood sign in 1932.

Another hotspot for paranormal activity is the picnic bench, as seen above. On 31 October, 1976, Rand Garrett and Nancy Jeanson were crushed to death by a falling tree as they enjoyed a romantic picnic at this bench. As you can see, the tree which killed them still remains. Allegedly workers refused to remove the tree because they heard disembodied whispers, moans and cries, which spooked them out so much they left the park, never to return. 

The Perron Family

In 1971, the Perron family moved into their new home in rural Burrillville, Rhode Island, a sweeping farmhouse built in the 18th century. It was to be the start of a new life for the Perrons and their five young daughters; and it was, but not in the way they expected. After only a few nights in the house, Carolyn Perron, the mother, awoke to the specter of an old woman hung by the neck from her bedroom ceiling. Over the next few weeks, strange sounds emanated from the crawlspaces and cellar of the house, doors would open themselves and slam shut, food would sweat blood.

With the help of paranormal investigators, the Perrons discovered that a witch practicing in the 18th century had supposedly sacrificed her own child to Satan, opened the house to the devil, and then hung herself. The Perrons came to believe that the witch’s ghost—as well as a myriad of demons and the ghosts of further suicides on the property—were haunting them. One of the daughters, Andrea Perron, now in her fifties, still maintains that the story is completely true, and that her mother even became possessed at one point. She says, “The only time I was truly terrified in that house was the night I thought I saw my mother die. She spoke in a voice we had never heard before, and a power not of this world threw her 20 feet into another room.”

The Perron story is the inspiration for the film The Conjuring, but the film doesn’t tell the whole story—after Mrs. Perron was possessed, the family stayed in the house for about nine more years, and just sort of “learned to live” with the spirits.

The king stands tall against the backdrop of the market alley, terrifying and deadly, absolutely towering over the thieves that had dared to drag his queen into it. They are laid out at his feet, torn and battered and utterly still. His hands shake at his sides, still fisted, still balled up holding onto all of the things he’d just witnessed before him. Arthur is still staring up at him from his place on the ground, right where the thieves had him before Alfred had all but ripped them off.

It is late into the spring already, and Arthur had managed to slip away from the stronghold of the Spades Castle without anyone noticing earlier that day. It’d proved to be harder that he thought it would be to escape from the high walls of the castle.

It wasn’t his somewhat newly-wed husband he had been trying to elude - that would’ve been easy enough - it was all of his guards and his advisors. High nobility that loitered in the halls for no other reason that to be near the king. Arthur is the queen, after all - he’s the second most recognizable face in the kingdom. However, shrouded in his deep blue cloak, hood pulled up, he could almost pass as any lord or baron as he hurried out the castle gate.

It was said that the king could manipulate time. That the clock was a Spades symbol for a reason, but Arthur never would have fathomed the rumors to be reality.

This was why no other kingdom could rival Spades, Arthur realized suddenly. This was the reason behind countless wars won, indiscriminable power held behind the palace walls, the terror over the mere whims of one man. The King of Spades, the most powerful person in the four kingdoms for no other reason than for just being the King of Spades. Oh, how wrong he had been before. Arthur understood that now. Behind the clear cloudless blue of his eyes, was a hurricane whose force people could only dare to guess at.

But then - Alfred just smiles at him. The sun coming out. Blinks his wide eyes and suddenly the storm raging there dissipates into clear skies. His fists fall apart back into hands.  

“Thank gods you’re safe!” He declares, and folds his queen into his embrace. As if there was any other way this altercation could have ended. As if Alfred could not have known whether or not he’d find Arthur alive.

Arthur holds him, flattens his palms against the broad expanse of his back. He imagines that he can feel that raw world breaking power thrumming beneath his fingers. He shivers. 

(In reality, what he feels is the frantic beating of the king’s heart, running in a rhythm trying to catch up to his thoughts.)

Alfred’s lips press against the pulse on his queen’s neck absently. Here. Alive. As if there was any chance it could have ended up differently. As if there was any chance. Any at all.

Then. Everything stops. The momentum throwing Arthur’s mind forward like its inside of a car screeching to a stop.

Everything starts winding back, time forcibly tugged the opposite direction, like the film being yanked out of a cassette tape. 

If Arthur could have remembered anything after it was all over, he would have thought the sensation was nauseating, like being dragged through open waters behind a very large boat. But he doesn’t. Just as time has been, his mind emerges rewound, too. 

Alfred holds him closer and resolves to tell him about it someday.

[That night, though, Alfred jolts awake - clutching at his temples, trying not to see it. To will the image of Arthur’s broken body out of his mind. It had never happened, Alfred consoled himself. As far as time was concerned, it had never happened-

It had never happened. It had never happened.

But there was no way to erase what he had seen. There was no way to scrub out his mind’s exception to the timeline. In his reality, it had happened. It was already there burned behind his eyes. He could undo what had been done, but never within the confines of his own head. To him, it will always be there. To him, Arthur will always be brought back from the dead.]


Black Shuck is a large, spectral dog in British folklore - especially in Norfolk, Suffolk, Essex and Devon - in areas steeped in supernatural and witchcraft lore. Sightings of Black Shuck continue in contemporary times. His appearance is often taken to be a death omen.

The name ‘Black Shuck’ may have come from a local word, ‘sucky’ meaning ‘shaggy’. Some believe that Black Shuck’s name derives from an Anglo-Saxon term scucca or sceocca, meaning 'demon’ or 'satan’. Other names are Old Shuck, the Galleytrot, the Shug Monkey, the Hateful Thing, the Churchyard Beast or the Hellbeast, Swooning Shadow and the Black Dog of Torrington.

Black Shuck is described as an all-black creature about the size of a calf. He has large eyes that glow yellow, red or green as if on fire. Sometimes he is one eyed like a cyclops. Often, he is headless, yet his eyes - where his eyes should be - glow in the dark. He may wear a collar of chains that rattle as he moves.

Pictured above are the church doors in Blythburgh, Suffolk. The most infamous sighting of Black Shuck occurred in this church, where the majority of the town were congregated, in August, 1577. There was a great storm raging of the Suffolk coast, and with a clap of thunder the doors burst open and Black Shuck entered the church, running through the congregation, killing a man and a boy. As Black Shuck left he reportedly left the scorch marks seen on the church door above, where they remain to this day.

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Fire and Steel (1)

Rating: M

Pair: Yoongi x Reader x Jimin (poly relationship)
Word count: 1,183
Summary: One likes fire, the other likes blades. You like them both

Gif found on Google

You stared at the words on your TV screen, currently showing the latest news in your small, little-known town. At the moment, it was showing a story about a fire in a section of the forest that practically surrounded the area, saying the origins of it were questionable seeing as it hadn’t been all that dry. 

However, it wasn’t that questionable to you. You knew exactly what it was. 

You picked up your phone and went into your messages, sending one to the top of the list. ‘What did you do' 

The response was almost immediate. “Don’t know what you’re talking about" 

You couldn’t help but snort. ‘Questionable forest fire less than a mile from the hangout?‘ 


‘Yeah, shit. Mind explaining?’

“To be fair, it wasn’t my fault”

‘And how is that?’

“Um…I’ll let you know when I think of a good excuse”

‘That’s what I thought. Text Yoongi and tell him to head to the hangout, I’m heading there now’

“please tell me were not having another talk”

'Nah. Just let him know’

You pocketed your cell phone before getting up and getting what you needed to head out. You weren’t lying that you weren’t going to have a talk, you were just going to tell Yoongi and let him deal with it.

Yoongi and the person you texted, Jimin, were your best friends from childhood, having met because your moms had met in the hospital, each there for different reasons. They became friends, and because of it, the three of you had grown up together.

Being from a small town with almost no crime, they also happened to be probably the most dangerous people you knew

Jimin, the younger of the two men, had an affinity for fire. Usually the bigger the better, even more so if there’s an explosion. You saw the first sign of this when he was 12, he’d stolen his dads grill lighter and, in his adrenaline-fueled spree of watching different things burn, hed almost set your backyard on fire. It wasn’t until 5 years after that that he decided to actually tell you that he thinks it runs a little deeper than just enjoying the aesthetic.

As for Yoongi, Yoongi liked blades. Knives, swords, if it was sharp, relatively thin, and could be swung or thrown, he liked it. To make it worse, he was also very good with them, more than once you’ve caught him throwing common kitchen knives at the wall of the hangout(that would result in you telling him not to, which would be promptly ignored as you would find him doing it again the next day). You knew about his affiliation the moment he first showed signs, less than a year before Jimin confessed his to you, although his was a little bit more of a morbid discovery that’s a story for another day.

You didn’t take long to arrive at the hangout, a small shack that the three of you found abandoned when you were teens and claimed it as yours. When you walked in, you saw the blonde and brunette were already there, both sitting at the small table that was set up in it.

The blonde looked up and leaned back in his chair. “Took long enough, I was already here. Why exactly was I told to meet, I had other things to do”

You raised a brow at him and shut the door behind you. “Oh yeah? What would that be Yoongi?”

He slapped his hands on his thighs before standing up and walking to the desk in the corner, picking up an object.

“Yoongi where the hell did you get a cleaver?!”

The older smirked at the younger, holding his fingers near the flat edge like it was a precious artifact. “Found it in the trash. No idea why, all it needed was some sharpening and attention” he said, pressing his thumb to the sharp side.

Jimin grimaced slightly. “You’re scary sometimes…I don’t even want to think about what you plan to use that for”

Yoongi shot him a look. “Hey, I was happy for you when you got the Zippo even though I was worried you were going to set the hangout on fire with it, leave me alone.”

You cleared your throat, drawing the attention of the two. You locked eyes with Jimin, simply saying “Jimin started a forest fire”

The look of absolute horror that spread on Jimin’s face was priceless. “Y/N what the hell!”


Before you could even react to what was happening, Yoongi had grabbed Jimin by his collar, cleaver raised in his other hand. “Jimin what the fuck did I tell you! What if they find out it’s you? You’ll be put away and they could start looking into me and Y/N! You’re going to get us all in trouble!”

Once you gathered what happened, you rushed over and grabbed Yoongi’s raised arm. “Whoa whoa, Yoongi relax! The cleavers great for things but not for Jimin, please put it down” you said.

The man stared at the smaller for a moment before looking at you and slowly lowering his hand. “Fine. He probably would’ve ruined it anyway” he said, letting Jimin go and walking across the room

You turned your attention to Jimin. The color had drained in his face, jaw dropped. “Ah…hyung nothing would have happened to Y/N..shes not like us. She’s normal..” he said once he managed to get his voice back.

Yoongi snorted. “Ahhh, that’s where you’re wrong. If she was normal, then she wouldn’t be here with us. Normal people don’t hang around people who like fire and knives” he stated.

You had to admit, he wasn’t wrong. Most people would probably have a lot of questions as to why you decided to stick around when these two would usually be considered ticking time bombs. But that’s exactly why you’re there. You play as the glue that holds everything together, you’re there to keep them under control and out of trouble. Who knows what would happen if you weren’t there.

You sighed and scratched your head, deciding to interrupt the small argument that was starting to grow over your mental state. “Okay so I just wanted to meet so Yoongi could scare some sense into Jimin so I’m going to go now”

Your statement stopped their talking, but they were still evidently not happy. “Yoongi you can go do whatever it was you were planning to do. Jimin, you should go home and lay low for a little bit until the fire story dies down.”

Jimin finally broke eye contact with Yoongi and looked at you, nodding. “Okay Y/N. Text you later” he said, getting up from the chair and walking out.

You looked at Yoongi for a moment before running a hand through your hair. “Have fun. Please stay safe,” you said, waiting for him to nod in acknowledgment before walking out yourself.

On your way home, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander. Yeah, keeping them out of trouble was definitely a big contributor for why you were still around them, but the crush you had on both of them probably didn’t help either.

Headcanon - The Tattoo

So a few years ago I was writing a story and I remembered researching tattoos that used ashes. Something made me remember that today and this happened.

(She drew it for him as a joke. After one too many ales and one too many women flirting with him, she drew it up and covered his face with the piece of paper. “You’re gonna get this right here, that way they know.” Of course, even though she was seeing four of him and there was a lag of about four seconds between what her eyes were on and what her brain was seeing, she hadn’t been serious. He kept the drawing because of course he did.)

After she died he had found that drawing. He had kept it tucked in a book he had been reading, forgotten by her loss.

It hadn’t been done on a whim and he had been stone cold sober when he got it done. He handed the artist the piece of paper and a small bag with contents to be added to the pigment. When asked what it was he told him: ‘What ashes of hers I could find.’

These are all fresh new, horror stories that haven’t been posted on my blog. 

  1. Search And Rescue Officer: Although this story was posted just a week ago, it already made it into Reddit’s top 10 creepy stories of all time. Read the morbid tales one officer had to witness. Story contains child death as well as graphic descriptions of death. 
  2. My Brother Died:  A story of how a child’s brother was still able to communicate after he passed away. He had a lot to say. 
  3. Borrasca: A series of creepy stories about a creepy new town. Although lengthy, this story got an overwhelming amount of likes. 
  4. My Wife Didn’t Want Me To Go Into The Bedroom: This isn’t your typical horror story. Although it contains morbid themes, it’ll tug at your heart strings. 
  5. The Beheaded Can Communicate: A bizarre story about one boy’s obsession with the beheaded. Strangely enough, this story will definitly make you feel. 
  6. You Have a Match: Tinder gone wrong. You’ll want to uninstall the app after this story. 
  7. Stare Out Of A Window, In The Dark:  This story is surprisingly motivating. If you’re in a slump, I encourage you to read this. 
  8. Hi Hungry, I’m Dad: A classic internet meme is the central theme to this sad but morbid story 
  9. Mama: A short creepy story about a mother’s love for her bullied child
  10. Stitched: A short creepy story about a doctor’s visit that doesn’t go so well.