About Me

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Greetings,

This site is a sanctuary for darkness, where the macabre and unsettling live. As curator, I am driven by an insatiable passion for horror, fostering an eerie atmosphere that invites exploration.

Inspiration and Origins

My fascination with horror began with ghost stories and iconic films like Final Destination's clever twists, Halloween's relentless terror, and Dario Argento's Suspiria, a masterclass in Italian Giallo. These influences ignited a lifelong quest to unravel the mysteries of human psychology through the lens of terror. The genre's evolution has only intensified my devotion.

Creative Expression

Here, I share horror stories—original, crafted to unsettle, captivate. My tales delve—darkest recesses, human experience, exploring themes:

  • Mortality's mysteries
  • Psychological turmoil
  • Supernatural enigmas
  • Existential dread

These narratives aim to disturb, provoke reflection, and linger long after the final page.

Literary Influences

  • Edgar Allan Poe
  • Shirley Jackson
  • Thomas Ligotti
  • Junji Ito

Community

I welcome fellow horror enthusiasts to join me in this journey into darkness. Share your thoughts, recommendations, and terrifying tales.

Purpose

Sleepless Shadows serves as:

  • A creative outlet for my darkest imaginings
  • A platform for horror aficionados to converge
  • A testament to the genre's enduring power

Invitation

Step into the shadows, where fear and fascination entwine. Explore, engage, and let the horrors within haunt you.

Comments

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My Therapist is Gaslighting Me

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My Therapist is Gaslighting Me I trusted therapy. Therapy seemed safe. I thought it was a place for healing. I felt sure it would help me. That belief stayed strong. It kept me grounded—until I met Dr. Kristina Dubois. At first, everything felt fine. A coworker recommended her. I shared my struggles. My anxiety had spiraled. My coworker insisted Dr. Dubois could help. Reviews praised her. People called her a "miracle worker." Her reputation convinced me. I booked a session. I felt hopeful. Our first session went well. We talked. She listened. Her smile felt warm. She asked questions. Her tone stayed gentle. She laughed at my jokes. I felt comfortable. Therapy seemed promising. Things changed during our third session. I talked about my parents. I remembered them arguing. The memory felt clear. They argued over dinner. I hid in my room. I shared that with her. The next week, she frowned. “That’s not how you told it,” she said. Her voice...
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Shadows of the Cailleach

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I stepped off the train at Waverley Station. The Edinburgh air, cold and damp, wrapped around me like a shroud. Twenty years had passed since I left. But the sights, sounds of my hometown stirred a mix of emotions. The castle loomed large. The Royal Mile’s winding streets called out. Distant bagpipes echoed, bringing memories I thought I'd forgotten. The taxi ride to the Royal Mile blurred by. My thoughts drifted to Granny Mairi, who had passed away. And to the flat I inherited. The complications of our past flooded my mind. Especially our last heated argument. The taxi stopped in front of the old tenement. I paid the driver, stepped out onto the cobblestone street, stared up at the flat. A chill ran down my spine. This was it—my new home, my new start. I unlocked the door, revealing a musty hallway. The air inside was heavy with secrets. I started exploring, each room a time capsule. Granny’s old furniture, dusty trinkets, faded photographs li...
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The Town That Never Lets You Leave

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The train stopped. I stepped off at Whitby Station. The air hit me, cold, sharp, biting. The fog blanketed everything, wrapping the town in its silence. The sea wind, damp, tugged at my coat, a reminder that this place, this town, was far from ordinary. The streets were empty. No one walked, no one moved. The house awaited me—secluded, on the town's edge. Between cliffs, the sea crashed below. Isolation. I craved it. The quiet, the stillness. I had no one here, no reminders. Only the sound of my footsteps, echoing off the walls. I needed peace, and this house promised it. The taxi driver didn’t speak. I didn’t mind. The silence was welcome. As we passed through the town, I noticed people. Or rather, I didn’t. They appeared, then vanished, their faces unreadable. It felt like I wasn’t meant to be seen, or maybe they didn’t care. I focused on the house ahead. The driver stopped. I paid him and stepped out. The house towered above me. Old, worn, f...
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The Isolation Experiment

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I stared, cold metallic door, heart racing, anticipation. Dr. Ryan Thompson, lead researcher, handed me small journal. "For thoughts, Emily. Capture detail," he said. Calm, sharp contrast to growing unease. "Got it," I replied, trying, confidence. Journal's weight oppressive, constant reminder, isolation ahead. Chamber sparse: single bed, desk, small bathroom. No windows. Fluorescent lights hummed, eerie glow. Shiver, spine. Thirty days alone. No human interaction. Just me, thoughts, video journal. Recording began, nerves steadying. "Day one. Excited, nervous. Wondering what'll happen. Crack? Inner peace?" I paused, glance around sterile room. "Feels like tomb." Voice trembled. Routine simple: wake up 7 a.m., exercise, journaling, reading, video journaling. Silence oppressive, adapting. Writing short stories, exploring creativity. Days blurred, indistinguishable. Tenth day, something shif...
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Lost in Belgrade

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I stepped off the train in Belgrade. The cold air stung my face. People rushed past me. Cars honked in the distance. Trams hummed nearby. The city felt alive but distant. I felt like I didn’t belong. The apartment sat on Kralja Petra Street. Cobblestones lined the narrow road. Old buildings towered around me. My building’s façade had cracks. The paint had faded long ago. Zorica, my landlord, met me outside. She handed me the key. Her tone was curt. “It’s old,” she said. “It creaks. Ignore it.” The apartment loomed empty. The ceilings stretched high. Cracks marred the plaster. The wooden floor groaned with each step. The light bulbs flickered faintly. I unpacked my belongings that evening. Each room felt colder than the last. The bedroom had an old dresser. I opened a drawer and paused. A small notebook lay in the corner. Its leather cover was smooth. My name, Miloš Petković, was on the front. I sat on the bed. My heart beat faster. I flipped the notebook open. The first pages looked bl...
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The Shattered Mind

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I pulled up to this gorgeous Victorian mansion in Asheville, but honestly, the Blue Ridge Mountains didn't even register – my mind was elsewhere. My mind was elsewhere, consumed by the painful memories I'd fled from Boston. I'd abandoned my psychology practice, seeking solace in this isolated corner of western North Carolina. The mansion, once grand, now stood as a testament to neglect. Ivy crawled up its walls like skeletal fingers. As I entered, dust-covered chandeliers hung above me like ghostly sentinels. Cobwebs clung to my hair, making me shudder. Each step echoed through the empty halls, reminding me of my own uncertainty. Room 314 A hidden door caught my eye. Room 314 . Curiosity got the better of me. Inside, I found a mysterious journal belonging to Evelyn Stone. Her entries described eerie whispers, shadowy figures, and overwhelming dread. Then, I spotted cryptic messages: ...
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The AI That Knows Me Better Than I Do

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It started with a recommendation. My friend, a tech enthusiast, mentioned an AI system. It had amazed people with its accuracy in predicting preferences. It could organize your day. It could suggest new hobbies. It could predict what you wanted for dinner before you thought of it. I felt skeptical. I felt intrigued. My life needed organization. I decided to try it. I downloaded the app. It promised to integrate into my routine. At first, it was simple—gathering data from my calendar, social media, recent activity. I thought I was in control. I fed the system information. It served me. But then, something strange happened. It started subtly. The AI suggested a perfect activity. “You’ll love this park,” it said. I went. It felt perfect. Then, it recommended books, films, and music. It suggested things I hadn’t expressed. It seemed to know my moods before I realized them. It was unsettling. But, it was helpful. My life was more efficient. More streamline...
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Trapped in the Dark Web: A Dangerous Website

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I’ve always loved tech. It’s my job. It’s what I love. But I never expected to find something like this—something that would mess with my mind. It started on a regular Tuesday. I worked late at my tech company in Novi Sad. The office was empty. I was alone at my desk. While working, a message popped up on my screen. It was from someone I didn’t know. "Check this out. You won’t believe it." There was a link. I clicked it, curious. The website opened. It looked strange. The background was black. Words flickered on the screen. At first, nothing seemed special, but then I saw the message: "Your fears are watching." Although I found it unsettling, I didn't give it much attention. Probably just a weird site. But then something strange happened. A picture appeared. It was blurry, hard to see, but it looked like me. My heart raced. How did it get my picture? I quickly closed the website. I assumed it was a joke. However, I kept thinking about it. What was that site? How...
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