A tightening psychological‑supernatural horror, The Third Floor follows Claire as she’s trapped in a looping, shifting building that feeds on guilt, memory, and unresolved grief. Each cycle drags her deeper—through haunted hallways, impossible mirrors, and echoes of her past—forcing her to confront the truth about her sister’s death while the house itself grows hungry for her.

A girl named Amber looks for her dog Scount, but discovers a dead cat in a tree with its neck broken instead...

Forty-year-old Leon Ross leaves the calm lakes of Maine for his first journey into the open Atlantic, expecting serenity among the islands of Casco Bay. Instead, a relentless current drags him beyond the safety of shore and into vast, indifferent waters. As night falls, Leon drifts through shipping lanes and into depths haunted by unseen predators. Alone, exhausted, and slowly losing hope, he must confront the terrifying truth that the ocean does not care whether he lives or dies.

The forest withdrew before him. Sound failed. Distance lost meaning. Men moved, then did not. Orders were spoken to emptiness. This was not a battle—it was an audit. Resistance lasted seven minutes, not because it was strong, but because mortality requires time to realize it no longer applies. When judgment finished, the world exhaled and forgot their names. Somewhere far away, something listening understood: correction had resumed.

Sally McGraw lives alone in a decaying house, surrounded by at least twenty-two neglected cats she insists are all she has. As isolation, filth, and hunger deepen, the animals grow watchful and strangely unified. When Sally suffers a crippling fall and cannot escape, the cats gather patiently, driven by instinct and survival. Days later, authorities find a quiet house, feral cats, and the unsettling sense that something inside finished exactly as intended.

Steve and Alan hook something far offshore that was never meant to surface. What rises from the deep is ancient, intelligent, and aware—and it does not leave them unchanged. Though the line snaps and the sea goes calm, the encounter follows them home, seeping into their sleep, their sanity, and their lives. Years later, the ocean still stirs, and the thing they caught remembers them. Some encounters do not end when the water closes.

Mark Henderson devotes his life to proving the existence of an uncontacted Amazonian tribe. When he finally finds the Tawni, they welcome him with quiet hospitality, allowing him to live among them and document their world. Over months, subtle rituals and watchful eyes hint at darker intentions Mark refuses to see. As a ceremonial feast approaches, he realizes too late that he is not a guest or an observer, but the main course—prepared patiently, reverently, and willingly.

Apple Harper grows up marked by her name and molded by years of quiet cruelty. From childhood taunts to high school humiliation, she learns how neglect and rot can thrive beneath polite smiles. When a celebrated school tradition turns into chaos, no one suspects the silent girl who always stood apart. As her tormentors face the consequences of decay she understands well, Apple remains unseen—yet finally heard. Bad Apples is a dark, unsettling story about bullying, restraint, and the dangerous power of being underestimated.

For twenty years, four friends have honored the same Thanksgiving tradition: a hunting trip deep in state forest. This year, the woods feel wrong—silent, watchful, unforgiving. When one man vanishes, then another, the hunt turns into a desperate flight for survival. Whatever stalks them is not an animal and not new to this land. As rifles are abandoned and trails twist back on themselves, one truth becomes clear: they were never the hunters. The forest has its own rules—and this tradition demands a final reckoning.

The leader whimpered, bleeding, as Kelo slammed him to his knees. Jakari crouched, black eyes fixed, and the man flinched under his touch. “Who sent you?” Jakari asked, calm, precise. “Star… a woman,” he stammered. Asia yelled, “Kill him!” Kelo shook his head, but I held up my hand. “No,” I said. “We send a message. He goes back to her.” Jakari brushed the glowing mark on his face. “The second one,” he said. And for the first time, I realized—we weren’t just surviving. We were ready to fight.

This one will run longer than 10 mins, and can be one hell of a scare. this will be interesting to see what directors do with it

Fire tore through the council hall as the floor split open. Souls screamed as Azrathion climbed from the breach, flames crowning his horns. Soldiers fell to their knees, bleeding, laughing, breaking. Chains meant to bind gods wrapped around him—and failed. “I was your executioner,” he roared, fire shaking stone. “Your sin made flesh.” Star did not flinch. “He can bring Jakari alive,” she said. “And if he betrays you—I’ll kill him myself.”

Alice finally fulfills her dream of owning a secluded coastal home on the Vineyard, a “legacy property” with centuries of history. At first, the house charms her with sunlight and creaking floors, but soon she hears strange tapping beneath the cellar. Nightmares of rising water and something pressing from below grow more vivid. The house isn’t just old—it’s alive with secrets, holding something in, waiting. Terrified, Alice flees, realizing some homes are never meant to be lived in.

Daniel Crowe knows the woods, but one night they turn against him. When the forest falls into an unnatural silence, he realizes he is no longer the hunter but the observed. A massive, unknowable creature emerges—unhurried, curious, unstoppable. Gunshots fail, escape is an illusion, and survival is never the point. Days later, officials blame bears, but hunters whisper of places where the air reeks of iron and rot, where footsteps follow patiently. Some things don’t chase. They don’t need to.

By his sixth summer on the route, ice cream man Walter Sloan has learned that cruelty, once tolerated, only grows louder. When a group of local children push him too far on his final day in Alton Bay, a quiet, irreversible lesson follows. What happens leaves no sirens, no official answers, and a town permanently altered. As streets are renamed and memories suppressed, Alton Bay relearns silence, restraint, and fear. Temple Street is a dark meditation on patience, vengeance, and the cost of looking away—because some lessons, once learned, never fade.

For twenty years, zoo janitor Zane Morales watches animals pace themselves into the dirt, carving grooves of confinement that mirror his own quiet unraveling. As repetition and neglect harden into obsession, Zane begins to believe the animals understand something humans refuse to see. On a crowded summer afternoon, he makes a deliberate choice that turns routine into reckoning. When cages open and order collapses, the zoo becomes a mirror of human cruelty and animal instinct, and Zane finally steps out of the circle—leaving behind silence, blood, and a groove that slowly fills in.

Smoke and ash curled around Star as she walked the burning town. Her soldiers fell silent behind her. The broken soldier Jakari had thrown to the ground before her. “We failed, my Lady… Posida is gone,” he stammered. Star’s boot struck him, hard. “Take him to the town hall,” she said. Inside, seven towering Masters watched. “What do you offer?” the Leader asked. Star held the black-pulsing heart. “Azrathion’s,” she said. The Last Warrant stirred in chains, eyes locking on her. “You release me… for what?” His voice rolled like thunder. Star’s answer: “Jakari.” And in that moment, the Last Warrant rose. The hunt began.

When a massive avalanche traps Chris Monaghan and Kelly Sinclair in a remote Alpine cabin, their romantic escape becomes a brutal fight for survival. Cut off from rescue, buried in snow, and running out of time, they must confront hunger, fear, and the limits of control as the mountain closes in. As storms worsen and escape becomes their only option, love, adaptability, and sheer will determine whether they leave the Alps alive—or disappear beneath them.

When Hurricane Helena slams into New England with impossible force, it brings more than wind and water. As towns flood and power dies, unsettling reports surface—shapes in the surf, voices in the storm, and houses torn open from within. The wind begins to speak, the fog begins to hunt, and entire communities vanish without a sound. Long after the storm fades, something remains behind, embedded in the land and the air. Helena did not create the horror—it delivered it.

Jimmy Rizzotte’s life is shaped by a single childhood moment in a kitchen where violence and silence became inseparable. Passed through relatives, institutions, the streets, and detention centers, Jimmy learns to survive by shutting down and disappearing. Trauma follows him into adulthood, echoing in routine sounds and quiet rooms. Years later, standing alone in his own kitchen, Jimmy confronts the memory that never left him—and discovers that remembering no longer has to mean being owned by it.