Horror painting emerge waiting to hurt human nature with true darkness always existed, hiding in the cracks of skyscrapers, in drains that did not drain, and most often, in the hearts of increasingly empty people. They were willing to choose darkness as a solution and make a deal between the worlds of light and darkness.

About the Father that became devil with his black magic potion and started to become fierce after killing her wife and is back to quench his son's blood the longer they listened to the sound, the more the fear that gripped their chests disappeared. The sound of the flute was not empty, it was filled with the vibrations of secret memories that calmed their fast-beating hearts and cooled their boiling blood. Abandoned his family to build up the Magical Skull Carter of Seven Continents full of vampires, jinns, ghosts creeps and underground dark side phenomenon.

Dead people could come back until I saw myself. My mother's shadow is standing in the house. Mom passed away three months ago. Just a normal illness, a constant fever that suddenly got worse. It all happened so quickly.

"Jaka, is it true that this is your boyfriend's village? "asked Mr. Judge, when the car we were in entered a very quiet and dark village. There are no explanations here."I have never been here Sir, but it is true that the address is according to what is written on the paper," Mas Jaka answered.On the side of the road adjacent to the theater house with a spacious yard. Every house has a fence made of bamboo as high as an adult's belly."Let's not get lost, this village is like an uninhabited place," my cockroach who sits in the back seat."It's impossible to get lost according to the address, try you ask that person, Mat." Mas Jaka points to someone from inside the car.From a distance a skinny man can be seen standing behind the house. Not so clear what his face looks like because our distance is quite far. Especially that person is facing the other way. Judge stopped the car, hesitating I stepped out. Cold air greets skin piercing bone. Even though I wear a pretty thick jacket."Mercy, be careful," said Ms. Diah, from inside the car.I nodded while lighting the flashlight before finally walking near the bamboo-woven walled theater house. "Excuse me, excuse me ! " call me out.The skinny man turned around, his face is flat and does not have a nose and eyes, there is only a mouth hole with untreated teeth, the color is yellowish black."I ask forgiveness of Allah! " I jumped in shock. Haven't even stepped away yet, the man has spoken."What's the need, Son?" ""Sorry, Sir---" "It's okay, I understand. Many people get scared when they see my face. You must come here want to ask Mr Datiman's house address, right? " cut it off."That's right sir, your daughter is a girl named Sava," I replied. "You just straighten this big road, later if there is a banyan tree in the third of the road turn left, well Mr. Datiman's house is there," he explained."Thank you, Sir."I'm back in the car feeling a little bumpy. How come that man knows my arrival wants to ask for the address? What the hell is he a witch? Ah, very stupid the important thing is Sava's home address."How about it, Mat?" " ask Mr. Judge."Secure, Sir. Let's be straight and I'll give you another hint." "Mas Jaka strokes the chest, looks relieved. There's happiness radiating from her beaming face. I bet she can't wait to meet her sweetheart.The car is back running along an uneven black dirt road. Pretty much potholes that make our car wobble a little. "Turn left, Sir," I said when I saw a banyan tree at the edge of the third.Once the car turned left, the torches were lined up along the road. I smell something like a corpse. I used to work in a hospital so I remember this smell."Ms. Diah, do you smell weird?" "my question to Mrs. Diah who sits in the front seat."What a strange smell, Mat?" " "It's Ma'am, it's like the smell of a newly deceased person," I answered."Don't you exist, Mat. It's not good to joke like that," said Mr. Judge.Car parked in front of house with metal fence. On the fence next to the head of ba bi forest, it looks like it's still new there da rah fresh dripping there."That's ba bi's head, what's it put there for? " my question."Yes, for what it is so scary, his eyes are so groggy," said Mr. RT who just woke up. Just now he's sleeping beside me."Maybe it's just for decoration," answered Mr. Judge, ignorant.Gate opened by old man with triangle leather hat. She's wearing no clothes, so her chest is tattooed with foreign letters. While covering the lower area is only a white cloth that looks like mori.When we got out of the car he was smiling. Like paying homage. "Welcome, please enter. "Mr. Judge and Mr. RT step first. Meanwhile I'm behind Mas Jaka with a feeling that's starting to get bad.We were dragged into the living room. The old man welcomed us to sit on the floor relying on a green banana leaf."What's wrong with banana leaves, don't they have mats?" " whisper, Mrs. Diah."That's it Ma'am, just sit down the important thing is I can edit Sava tonight," Mas Jaka replied with a slow voice.A beautiful woman out carrying a kettle and a glass in a tray. She is not the girl that Mas Jaka often bounces, could it be her younger sister Sava?Several other family members came out, including Sava. They are wearing an all black outfit.Not just drinks, some women came up from behind with huge meat sprinkled with spices on top. It looks so tempting. "Before talking about the continuation of children's relationship, it is compulsory to eat here first," says a middle-aged woman sitting next to Sava."Sorry, my wife wants to pee." Where is the toilet? " poke Mr. Judge. You can see the expression of a middle-aged woman beside Sava sulking, even though before she smiled kindly."In the back," said Ketus.The judge walks his wife to the toilet. Now it's just the three of us. Yes that's me, Mr. RT and Mas Jaka.Actually there are still a few more people who participated in

BLACK HORSE The black horse appeared for the first time on Friday morning. I remind you I'm sleepy. It was only 6.20 in the morning, the fog was still thick on the village road. I was on my way to work, riding a motorbike slowly because the road was slippery. From a distance, at the end of a bend near the old sap plantation, I saw a large shadow standing in the middle of the road. I slowed down the motorbike. When there were only a few meters left, the horse turned to face me. Her eyes... not animal eyes. Too calm. Too knowing. I was shocked. When I lifted my head again, the road was empty. No horses. No tread effect. I shook my head. Consider hallucinations of people not getting enough sleep. I was wrong. The second day, the horse appeared again. This time, behind my house. I was siding cloth in the morning. The air was quiet, only the sound of birds and leaves rustling. I am dizzy. The black horse was standing completely outside the fence. Head down. Heavy breaths came out of his nostrils. The fence doesn't open. Not damaged. But the horse was there. I withdrew. My heart was beating fast. When I screamed for a neighbor, the horse slowly raised its head... and stepped forward. First step, his body penetrated the fence like black smoke. Second step, is lost. My knees shook. I sat on the ground. I started asking the village parents. There's something that I didn't hear. Some people keep changing topics. Finally, Tok Mail, the person who had been there the longest, looked at me for a long time before speaking. "You see a black horse?" he asked slowly. I nodded. Tok Mail smokes a cigarette, heavy smoke comes out. “That's not a horse,” he said. “That's a sign.” “What sign?” “A sign that people are leaving.” My blood is cool. "Who?" Tok Mail looked at me. "If he appears near your house... It's always someone in the house." That night, I didn't sleep. At 3 am, I heard heavy footsteps outside the house. Dum... dum... dum... Like iron treads hitting the ground. I peered through the window. The black horse stood in the middle of the yard. His body is bigger than this afternoon. Her skin is shiny, as if wet with something that wasn't sweat. Around his neck… there's a rope. Old rope. Rough. There is still the impression of dried blood. The horse raised its head and stared at my window. And I heard a voice. Not from his mouth. From inside my head. “It's almost your turn.” I cover my ears. I screamed. I read whatever I remember. When I open my eyes again, the page is blank. But the ground is damp. And there is the impression of horse hooves leading to the door of the house. The next day, I received the news. My brother had an accident. The motorbikes were finished early in the morning. Died at the scene. I sat down. The time of misfortune is recorded, 6.18am. Almost the same time I first saw the horse the first day. At the cemetery, when the body was lowered, I smelled the same smell. I looked at the edge of the grave. In the gap in the tree, I saw a black shadow standing. Shut up. Wait. I remember everything was finished. I was wrong. The horse came again, a week later. This time… he was standing directly behind me, reflected in the water room mirror. I'm stunned. In the mirror, I saw that the rope was now wrapped around my own neck. I tried to turn away. My body doesn't move. The horse approaches. His breath was hot on the back of my neck. "Not your brother," the voice whispered. "He was just passing by." My hands started to go numb. "What I'm waiting for... from the start again... is you." People met me the next morning. I died in the water room. Stand. Eyes open. The doctor said it was a heart attack. But there was one thing they couldn't explain. around my neck, there was a long bruise, like a rough rope mark. And outside the house, the yard's soil sank slightly. As if something heavy just turned around and walked away. And in that village, parents now only order one thing: If you see a dark horse in the morning... don't look too long. Because if he stops and looks back, it is not simply a sign of death. That's an invitation. The end 👀 DESCRIPTION: The black horse appeared in the morning. Shut up. Not moving. It doesn't sound. People say that if you see him once, it's a coincidence. If it's twice, that's a warning. If three times... he didn't come for anyone else. DISCLAIMER: This story is purely fictional. It has nothing to do with living or dead individuals. If after reading this you feel uncomfortable when you see black shadows on the side of the road in the morning, it is not the author's responsibility. 👀

The footprints did not appear suddenly. It came slowly, and only when I realized I had never lived alone in that house. I moved to an old rental house on the outskirts of town because rent was cheap. One-story house, cement floor, finely cracked walls. The homeowner only orders one thing before handing over the keys. "If you see the impression of footprints... don't come." I laughed a little at that time. Consider parental orders excessive. The first night, nothing. The second night, I woke up at 5:12 am. Sound tap... tap... tap... slowly, from the kitchen to the living room. I reminded the mice. If I wake up and turn on the light, I see footprints on the cement floor. Big. Rough. Like the footprints of an adult with chicken feet. The problem is, The footprints stopped completely in front of my room. I wiped the impression with a cloth. Is lost. But the smell remained. The next morning I checked around the house. No leaks. There is no impression of coming in from outside. That night, the sound came again. This time closer. Heavier. Tap… tap... drag... It was as if the leg was injured. When I opened the door to the room, the footprints were already on the floor, and I noticed something that made my throat dry. The footprint is incomplete. One finger is missing. I met my neighbor next door. Middle-aged man, rarely speaks. When I asked about the rental house, his face kept changing. "You have one left?" he asked. I nodded. He took a deep breath. "In the past, this house was a place where illegal laborers were kept," he said. "One person died when he was crushed by cement. His legs were crushed. His body... was never actually removed." I felt my stomach drop. “Buried where?” He shook his head. “On the floor.” The third night, I didn't sleep. I sat in the living room with the lights all on. At 4:59am, the cement floor rang. Crackle. A fine crack appeared in the middle of the living room. And from that gap… out of human footprints. His skin is gray. Black nails. One finger is missing. The legs walk by themselves. He moved slowly, leaving an impression. With every step, the floor sounded like bones were being crushed. I can't move. The foot stopped in front of me. Then another foot comes off the floor. And one body follows, half trapped, half free. His face was unclear. But his mouth was wide open. “I haven't come out yet,” he said. "And you step on where I sleep." I tried to run. But every step I took, the floor became softer. My feet sank little by little. The soles started to stick to my feet. Not chasing. Replace. My skin feels cool. Heavy. I see my own feet, My toes started to disappear one by one. “There's room for just one,” the voice whispered. "One out. One stay." The next morning, the landlord came because the tenant didn't answer the phone. He found an empty house. There was no sign of a fight. No corpses. Only the living room cement floor has just been patched. And on the floor, there was the impression of wet footprints. Two sets. One complete. One… minus one finger. The house was rented out again. New tenants are told the same thing: "If you see footprints... don't come." But no one ever heard. Because when the soles of the feet start to walk, he doesn't want to chase you. He just wanted to make sure someone changed his place. 👀 End The problem… the footprints appeared from the floor, and every day the number increases. This story is purely fictional. It has nothing to do with living or dead individuals. If after reading this you suddenly notice that the floor of your house is cool and damp, it is not the author's responsibility. Thank you for reading until the end.