Galactic Horrors

On Alaska's dying North Slope, a pipeline welder lets a nineteen-year-old apprentice carry the blame for the failed weld that killed the boy. Facing an inquiry, he signs up to be frozen for a single year in an old coal mine on Svalbard. He wakes more than four thousand years later, in a world without towns or lights, where the people by the fjord know exactly what men like him are for.

On the mountain above the shore, the old seed vault still juts from the glacier, and the islanders need the seed inside to keep their fields alive. Something lives in the dark behind its steel doors, and it claims whoever crosses each threshold first. So the thawed sleepers walk in front, door after door, with spears at their backs.

When the elders press the brass key that wakes the frozen into his hand, choosing who walks next becomes his job. His old crew still sleeps in the racks, among them the foreman who covered for him and the brother of the boy he let take the blame. Their capsules are slowly failing, and every man he saves from the ice will have to climb it ahead of him.

🔗 Official Links:

The only place to get daily and bonus Galactic Horrors stories with no ads or interruptions is Patreon:

📡 Join Patreon: https://patreon.com/GalacticHorrors

Galactic Horrors stories are also available as eBooks on Amazon, with new releases every week:

📚 eBooks: https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B0H2F5M2B3/allbooks

📖 Written by Galactic Horrors

⚠️ Content Ownership Notice

All stories, artwork, thumbnails, and animations featured on this channel are original creations of Galactic Horrors. I do not accept or feature submissions from other creators. Unauthorized reproduction, redistribution, or re-uploading of any content from this channel, in any form, is strictly prohibited and constitutes a violation of copyright. Legal action may be taken against any parties found infringing these rights.

📜 Fictional Work Disclaimer

This story is a work of fiction created for entertainment purposes only. The events, characters, and organizations portrayed are entirely fictional, and any references to governmental bodies, entities, or individuals are not intended to represent reality. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real-life events or organizations is purely coincidental.

#scifi #scifihorror #creepypasta

Disclosure: This episode includes AI-generated elements.

Hosted on Acast. See https://acast.com/privacy for more information.

For twenty years he has been the cleanest cutter on a hunting ship that harpoons the slow beasts grazing the dark between the stars. Their oil keeps a frontier colony alive far from the sun, and the purest of it, rendered from the young ones, burns in the hospital lamps over babies born too soon, as it once burned over him. Like every hunter, he keeps one rule: never cut into the stomach.

Then his captain wants a young beast stripped before a rival ship reaches market, and he cuts through a thin patch every old hand leaves alone. Inside, sewn into the floor by pale growth, lies a lifeboat from an ore hauler lost eight years ago. Five of its men are still alive, and the one who greets him has been waiting for someone to cut through.

Bringing them home should feel like a miracle. Yet no one aboard wants to ask how they survived, and every young beast he has ever stripped was cut loose with its stomach still sealed. The clean oil he was so proud of comes from a source he never questioned, and now he cannot stop wondering who else is waiting in the dark.

🔗 Official Links:

The only place to get daily and bonus Galactic Horrors stories with no ads or interruptions is Patreon:

📡 Join Patreon: https://patreon.com/GalacticHorrors

Galactic Horrors stories are also available as eBooks on Amazon, with new releases every week:

📚 eBooks: https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B0H2F5M2B3/allbooks

📖 Written by Galactic Horrors

⚠️ Content Ownership Notice

All stories, artwork, thumbnails, and animations featured on this channel are original creations of Galactic Horrors. I do not accept or feature submissions from other creators. Unauthorized reproduction, redistribution, or re-uploading of any content from this channel, in any form, is strictly prohibited and constitutes a violation of copyright. Legal action may be taken against any parties found infringing these rights.

📜 Fictional Work Disclaimer

This story is a work of fiction created for entertainment purposes only. The events, characters, and organizations portrayed are entirely fictional, and any references to governmental bodies, entities, or individuals are not intended to represent reality. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real-life events or organizations is purely coincidental.

#scifi #scifihorror #creepypasta

Disclosure: This episode includes AI-generated elements.

Hosted on Acast. See https://acast.com/privacy for more information.

Nearly seven miles beneath the Pacific, a three-man submersible mapping the Mariana Trench finds what no chart has ever shown: a perfectly round shaft cut into the rock, with pale, eyeless creatures the length of a bus drifting up out of it impossibly slowly. The engineer who built the sphere's life support tells the others they have air enough to watch for six hours, so they stay.

When they surface, the support ship is gone, and so is everyone they knew. Beside that shaft, every minute cost a year up top, and the things they watched rise have had four centuries to grow; now they haul themselves ashore each night to scrape the coast of Guam bare. High on the mountain, the survivors' descendants have been waiting for the crew to come back up.

They want a second dive with the village's blasting powder, to bring a slab of the trench wall down across the hole, though every minute near it will cost the people above six more weeks. The sphere holds three men and three men's air, yet desperate families are paying for seats aboard it, and the engineer must decide how long he can let them believe there is room.

🔗 Official Links:

The only place to get daily and bonus Galactic Horrors stories with no ads or interruptions is Patreon:

📡 Join Patreon: https://patreon.com/GalacticHorrors

Galactic Horrors stories are also available as eBooks on Amazon, with new releases every week:

📚 eBooks: https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B0H2F5M2B3/allbooks

📖 Written by Galactic Horrors

⚠️ Content Ownership Notice

All stories, artwork, thumbnails, and animations featured on this channel are original creations of Galactic Horrors. I do not accept or feature submissions from other creators. Unauthorized reproduction, redistribution, or re-uploading of any content from this channel, in any form, is strictly prohibited and constitutes a violation of copyright. Legal action may be taken against any parties found infringing these rights.

📜 Fictional Work Disclaimer

This story is a work of fiction created for entertainment purposes only. The events, characters, and organizations portrayed are entirely fictional, and any references to governmental bodies, entities, or individuals are not intended to represent reality. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real-life events or organizations is purely coincidental.

#scifi #scifihorror #creepypasta

Disclosure: This episode includes AI-generated elements.

Hosted on Acast. See https://acast.com/privacy for more information.

Nine hundred times farther from the Sun than Earth, a tug captain has spent nineteen years cutting comets into ice for worlds he will never see. When his engineer's scan finds a hollow comet with a round, seamless door set into its pole, he breaks his company contract and orders all nine of his men inside to learn who built it.

Beyond the door, a shaft falls forty levels into ever heavier gravity, past galleries walled with sealed stone niches. Tall, eyeless machines walk those halls without hurry, and they answer only one thing: stillness. Anyone who sits, kneels, or nods off is lifted on gentle padded hands, laid in the wall, and sealed in alive, and every cut made to free them brings a swarm to close it again.

Now the crew must climb back toward the door on bodies weakened by years without gravity, with dwindling air, no sleep, and the voices of the men they left behind still asking over the radio how close the cutters are. The captain promised to come back for them, and with every step up the stair he has to decide what that promise is worth.

🔗 Official Links:

The only place to get daily and bonus Galactic Horrors stories with no ads or interruptions is Patreon:

📡 Join Patreon: https://patreon.com/GalacticHorrors

Galactic Horrors stories are also available as eBooks on Amazon, with new releases every week:

📚 eBooks: https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B0H2F5M2B3/allbooks

📖 Written by Galactic Horrors

⚠️ Content Ownership Notice

All stories, artwork, thumbnails, and animations featured on this channel are original creations of Galactic Horrors. I do not accept or feature submissions from other creators. Unauthorized reproduction, redistribution, or re-uploading of any content from this channel, in any form, is strictly prohibited and constitutes a violation of copyright. Legal action may be taken against any parties found infringing these rights.

📜 Fictional Work Disclaimer

This story is a work of fiction created for entertainment purposes only. The events, characters, and organizations portrayed are entirely fictional, and any references to governmental bodies, entities, or individuals are not intended to represent reality. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real-life events or organizations is purely coincidental.

#scifi #scifihorror #creepypasta

Disclosure: This episode includes AI-generated elements.

Hosted on Acast. See https://acast.com/privacy for more information.

In 1977, a Soviet water crew abandoned its drilling camp in the Uzbek desert, and the men who never came home were written off as deserters. One of them left a four-year-old son who grew up hearing that his father had walked away. Forty-six years later, that son is a Texas well driller who has never walked off a rig, and he joins a government survey sent to reopen the same capped bore, telling no one whose son he is.

The camp still sits in its hollow among the dunes, and the ground there keeps its own rules. The rig runs only while the noon sun burns the sand, nobody leaves the trucks after dark, and cool sand goes soft beneath anything that walks, because something vast lives below. Each day the hammer pounds deeper down his father's old hole, toward the buried lake and whatever has been waiting in it.

Every yard the bit gains brings him closer to the answer he crossed the world for, and to the reason the crew fled in a single night. The truth about what his father did may ask something of the son that he never imagined he would have to give.

🔗 Official Links:

The only place to get daily and bonus Galactic Horrors stories with no ads or interruptions is Patreon:

📡 Join Patreon: https://patreon.com/GalacticHorrors

Galactic Horrors stories are also available as eBooks on Amazon, with new releases every week:

📚 eBooks: https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B0H2F5M2B3/allbooks

📖 Written by Galactic Horrors

⚠️ Content Ownership Notice

All stories, artwork, thumbnails, and animations featured on this channel are original creations of Galactic Horrors. I do not accept or feature submissions from other creators. Unauthorized reproduction, redistribution, or re-uploading of any content from this channel, in any form, is strictly prohibited and constitutes a violation of copyright. Legal action may be taken against any parties found infringing these rights.

📜 Fictional Work Disclaimer

This story is a work of fiction created for entertainment purposes only. The events, characters, and organizations portrayed are entirely fictional, and any references to governmental bodies, entities, or individuals are not intended to represent reality. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real-life events or organizations is purely coincidental.

#scifi #scifihorror #creepypasta

Disclosure: This episode includes AI-generated elements.

Hosted on Acast. See https://acast.com/privacy for more information.

In the spring of 1959, an autoworker out of work for eleven months takes the only job anyone will give him: driving the truck that hauls a traveling carnival's sideshow Martian through the farm towns of the Midwest. The lot boss asks him a single question, how many children he has, then parks his wife and two young sons in a trailer at the far edge of the lot, nearest the open fields.

The Martian is no hoax. It stands gray and silent in a trailer kept colder than any Iowa winter, and the show never stays anywhere longer than five nights, however good the crowds. Then, in a small Iowa town, the trailer's axle snaps. The next night the farm dogs fall silent one by one, and in the flashes of heat lightning, tall gray figures stand at the edge of the corn.

Sealed inside the fairground with his boys asleep nearest the fields, he begins to understand why the carnival never lingers and why it hires only fathers. Each night the figures stand a little closer, and the show's old hands already seem to know what will be asked of him.

🔗 Official Links:

The only place to get daily and bonus Galactic Horrors stories with no ads or interruptions is Patreon:

📡 Join Patreon: https://patreon.com/GalacticHorrors

Galactic Horrors stories are also available as eBooks on Amazon, with new releases every week:

📚 eBooks: https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B0H2F5M2B3/allbooks

📖 Written by Galactic Horrors

⚠️ Content Ownership Notice

All stories, artwork, thumbnails, and animations featured on this channel are original creations of Galactic Horrors. I do not accept or feature submissions from other creators. Unauthorized reproduction, redistribution, or re-uploading of any content from this channel, in any form, is strictly prohibited and constitutes a violation of copyright. Legal action may be taken against any parties found infringing these rights.

📜 Fictional Work Disclaimer

This story is a work of fiction created for entertainment purposes only. The events, characters, and organizations portrayed are entirely fictional, and any references to governmental bodies, entities, or individuals are not intended to represent reality. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real-life events or organizations is purely coincidental.

#scifi #scifihorror #creepypasta

Disclosure: This episode includes AI-generated elements.

Hosted on Acast. See https://acast.com/privacy for more information.

For twenty winters he has built the ice at the hockey arena in his Minnesota hometown, and he can tell by sound which ice will carry a man. That is why, when the war stalls on a frozen marsh nearby, the army hands him a ring of keys and the job of walking thirty convicts half a mile out onto the ice each dusk, chaining them by the neck to iron posts, and unlocking whoever is left at dawn.

The convicts are bait for enemy machines that no radar or night scope can detect, machines that want nothing but the living. When one reaches a post and the man there screams, the guns behind the line kill him and the thing together, but the sergeant at the guns fires only on true terror.

Then one morning a collar lies open, its chain cut clean, and nobody heard a scream. The machines have learned to take men in silence, the prison trucks bring fewer convicts each week, and the posts still have to be filled. In the tents behind the guns sleep the men he has known all his life, and he is the one who keeps the list.

🔗 Official Links:

The only place to get daily and bonus Galactic Horrors stories with no ads or interruptions is Patreon:

📡 Join Patreon: https://patreon.com/GalacticHorrors

Galactic Horrors stories are also available as eBooks on Amazon, with new releases every week:

📚 eBooks: https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B0H2F5M2B3/allbooks

📖 Written by Galactic Horrors

⚠️ Content Ownership Notice

All stories, artwork, thumbnails, and animations featured on this channel are original creations of Galactic Horrors. I do not accept or feature submissions from other creators. Unauthorized reproduction, redistribution, or re-uploading of any content from this channel, in any form, is strictly prohibited and constitutes a violation of copyright. Legal action may be taken against any parties found infringing these rights.

📜 Fictional Work Disclaimer

This story is a work of fiction created for entertainment purposes only. The events, characters, and organizations portrayed are entirely fictional, and any references to governmental bodies, entities, or individuals are not intended to represent reality. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real-life events or organizations is purely coincidental.

#scifi #scifihorror #creepypasta

Disclosure: This episode includes AI-generated elements.

Hosted on Acast. See https://acast.com/privacy for more information.

Every October, after the season's last storm, a lineman cuts the power to an entire Cajun shrimping town on the Louisiana coast for three nights. Behind drawn blinds, families sit in silence while pale, eyeless creatures crawl out of the bay and carry people from their homes. The town believes the creatures hunt the light; he has known for eleven years that they hunt the current in the wires, and he has never told a soul.

In 1977, an officer from the Army Corps of Engineers stops him at the last lever, the one that feeds the poorest street in town, and orders him to leave it on and tell no one, not even his wife. The eleven families on the marsh edge are told their power was kept on to save their catch, and they thank him for it.

That one live line keeps the rest of the town quiet, including the house where his own children sleep. The longer he holds the secret, the clearer it becomes what the arrangement is buying, who is paying for it, and how close the dark could come to his own door if he ever pulls that line down.

🔗 Official Links:

The only place to get daily and bonus Galactic Horrors stories with no ads or interruptions is Patreon:

📡 Join Patreon: https://patreon.com/GalacticHorrors

Galactic Horrors stories are also available as eBooks on Amazon, with new releases every week:

📚 eBooks: https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B0H2F5M2B3/allbooks

📖 Written by Galactic Horrors

⚠️ Content Ownership Notice

All stories, artwork, thumbnails, and animations featured on this channel are original creations of Galactic Horrors. I do not accept or feature submissions from other creators. Unauthorized reproduction, redistribution, or re-uploading of any content from this channel, in any form, is strictly prohibited and constitutes a violation of copyright. Legal action may be taken against any parties found infringing these rights.

📜 Fictional Work Disclaimer

This story is a work of fiction created for entertainment purposes only. The events, characters, and organizations portrayed are entirely fictional, and any references to governmental bodies, entities, or individuals are not intended to represent reality. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real-life events or organizations is purely coincidental.

#scifi #scifihorror #creepypasta

Disclosure: This episode includes AI-generated elements.

Hosted on Acast. See https://acast.com/privacy for more information.

In 1968, an Air Force loadmaster has spent three years flying the war dead home from Vietnam, and his career rests on never asking what is inside a box. Moved to a night route whose cargo no crewman may see, he keeps the habit until a stopover in the middle of the Pacific, when he turns on the hold lights. The seats are filled with dead American soldiers in dress greens, embalmed, made up to smile, and wired to battery packs that let them walk.

One of them is the neighbor boy he watched grow up three doors down, whose mother buried a sealed coffin in May. Instead of flying home, the loadmaster is ordered into the Central Highlands with a detail that steers the dead ahead of the living into minefields, tunnels, and enemy fire.

Each new battery means another hole punched in the brass tag at the boy's collar, and when the tag is full, his last walk will be down a mined slope where the spent dead are left standing. The loadmaster has until the end of summer to put one soldier in the ground, on a hill where every man has already made his bargain with the dead.

🔗 Official Links:

The only place to get daily and bonus Galactic Horrors stories with no ads or interruptions is Patreon:

📡 Join Patreon: https://patreon.com/GalacticHorrors

Galactic Horrors stories are also available as eBooks on Amazon, with new releases every week:

📚 eBooks: https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B0H2F5M2B3/allbooks

📖 Written by Galactic Horrors

⚠️ Content Ownership Notice

All stories, artwork, thumbnails, and animations featured on this channel are original creations of Galactic Horrors. I do not accept or feature submissions from other creators. Unauthorized reproduction, redistribution, or re-uploading of any content from this channel, in any form, is strictly prohibited and constitutes a violation of copyright. Legal action may be taken against any parties found infringing these rights.

📜 Fictional Work Disclaimer

This story is a work of fiction created for entertainment purposes only. The events, characters, and organizations portrayed are entirely fictional, and any references to governmental bodies, entities, or individuals are not intended to represent reality. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real-life events or organizations is purely coincidental.

#scifi #scifihorror #creepypasta

Disclosure: This episode includes AI-generated elements.

Hosted on Acast. See https://acast.com/privacy for more information.

When the reactor at the heart of a West Virginia mill city explodes, its night engineer runs for twenty minutes without warning anyone and reaches a fence he has never seen. Outside it, eleven years have passed. The blast has bent time around the plant, so the nearer anyone stands to it, the slower their clock runs, and the city inside is still living its worst night while the towns along the fence watch through telescopes.

Those towns have watched him run past their families for more than a decade, and they spit at his name. Yet the company that owned the plant, whose order he signed the night it blew, wants him back inside, because he alone knows the deepest streets and families have saved for years to have their people carried out.

Every step he takes in there costs his wife and children days of their lives, and a single morning's rescue can cost them three years. As a slow fire creeps toward the people he is sent to reach, each trip forces him to choose whom he carries out and whom he walks past again, while his family grows older without him.

🔗 Official Links:

The only place to get daily and bonus Galactic Horrors stories with no ads or interruptions is Patreon:

📡 Join Patreon: https://patreon.com/GalacticHorrors

Galactic Horrors stories are also available as eBooks on Amazon, with new releases every week:

📚 eBooks: https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B0H2F5M2B3/allbooks

📖 Written by Galactic Horrors

⚠️ Content Ownership Notice

All stories, artwork, thumbnails, and animations featured on this channel are original creations of Galactic Horrors. I do not accept or feature submissions from other creators. Unauthorized reproduction, redistribution, or re-uploading of any content from this channel, in any form, is strictly prohibited and constitutes a violation of copyright. Legal action may be taken against any parties found infringing these rights.

📜 Fictional Work Disclaimer

This story is a work of fiction created for entertainment purposes only. The events, characters, and organizations portrayed are entirely fictional, and any references to governmental bodies, entities, or individuals are not intended to represent reality. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real-life events or organizations is purely coincidental.

#scifi #scifihorror #creepypasta

Disclosure: This episode includes AI-generated elements.

Hosted on Acast. See https://acast.com/privacy for more information.

A failing colony on a distant world builds its chapel around an ancient black stone, its top worn into two smooth hollows by knees no one can account for. After forty nights of unanswered prayer, the chaplain who talked thirty-four families out of Kansas kneels there to beg for rain. Before dawn, silver shapes come down out of the hills on their knees, and rain falls on the fields and nowhere else.

The stone grants one prayer a night, exactly as spoken. Soon the whole settlement lines up at sunset with its sentences rehearsed, and the chaplain, desperate to protect the people who followed him, becomes the man who trims their words so nothing loose slips through. The kneeling things carry out every answer to the letter, and one stumbled word can cost a man the wife he knelt to save.

Each morning the colony learns whose prayer was chosen, and each night the line grows longer. Bound to the stone by hunger, faith, and guilt, the chaplain must decide what he is still willing to ask of it, and what he will let his people ask, while the things in the hills keep coming down to answer.

🔗 Official Links:

The only place to get daily and bonus Galactic Horrors stories with no ads or interruptions is Patreon:

📡 Join Patreon: https://patreon.com/GalacticHorrors

Galactic Horrors stories are also available as eBooks on Amazon, with new releases every week:

📚 eBooks: https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B0H2F5M2B3/allbooks

📖 Written by Galactic Horrors

⚠️ Content Ownership Notice

All stories, artwork, thumbnails, and animations featured on this channel are original creations of Galactic Horrors. I do not accept or feature submissions from other creators. Unauthorized reproduction, redistribution, or re-uploading of any content from this channel, in any form, is strictly prohibited and constitutes a violation of copyright. Legal action may be taken against any parties found infringing these rights.

📜 Fictional Work Disclaimer

This story is a work of fiction created for entertainment purposes only. The events, characters, and organizations portrayed are entirely fictional, and any references to governmental bodies, entities, or individuals are not intended to represent reality. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real-life events or organizations is purely coincidental.

#scifi #scifihorror #creepypasta

Disclosure: This episode includes AI-generated elements.

Hosted on Acast. See https://acast.com/privacy for more information.

Every year since Earth burned, the last human garrison at the edge of space sends its eighteen-year-old boys out in small fighting boats to strike the enemy every child aboard is taught to blame. In thirty years, not one boy has come back. Not one has sent home so much as a bone.

No one aboard has ever seen the enemy. So the rifle instructor who trains every class gave it a face himself: a towering monster of welded scrap and stitched canvas, built from the nightmares six-year-olds draw for him. The boys grow up beneath it, beat it to pieces the night before they launch, and fly out believing they know what waits for them.

Six days before launch, his brightest cadet seals himself inside the nursery with a cutting torch, holds the flame to the oxygen line above forty sleeping children, and makes one demand. Show him the enemy. A bone. Anything at all.

The instructor has never lied to his boys. But the only honest answer he can give lies out at the end of the attack line, in the cold, where thirty years of sons have gone and no one has ever followed.

🔗 Official Links:

The only place to get daily and bonus Galactic Horrors stories with no ads or interruptions is Patreon:

📡 Join Patreon: https://patreon.com/GalacticHorrors

Galactic Horrors stories are also available as eBooks on Amazon, with new releases every week:

📚 eBooks: https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B0H2F5M2B3/allbooks

📖 Written by Galactic Horrors

⚠️ Content Ownership Notice

All stories, artwork, thumbnails, and animations featured on this channel are original creations of Galactic Horrors. I do not accept or feature submissions from other creators. Unauthorized reproduction, redistribution, or re-uploading of any content from this channel, in any form, is strictly prohibited and constitutes a violation of copyright. Legal action may be taken against any parties found infringing these rights.

📜 Fictional Work Disclaimer

This story is a work of fiction created for entertainment purposes only. The events, characters, and organizations portrayed are entirely fictional, and any references to governmental bodies, entities, or individuals are not intended to represent reality. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real-life events or organizations is purely coincidental.

#scifi #scifihorror #creepypasta

Disclosure: This episode includes AI-generated elements.

Hosted on Acast. See https://acast.com/privacy for more information.

On a dead world beyond the last navigation beacons, an alien city is still at work. Ten-foot beings sow fields of dust with empty hands, walk grooves their feet have worn knee-deep into solid rock, and sit on the steps of a great hall with the calmest faces a veteran surveyor has ever seen. Inside that hall stand rows of bone-white frames.

He is here on a black expedition, kept off every record by the nameless men who buy and sell the labor contracts of convicts. Then he watches a frame take hold of the city's one restless child, and his employers see exactly what he sees: a way to turn anyone into perfect, tireless calm.

They want a trial on human prisoners. He picks the men himself, the most violent on the list, so no one can claim the frames only work on the meek. One by one they go in fighting and walk out serene, ready to work without rest or complaint.

He signs every report that says there is nobody left behind those faces. He has looked into enough of them to be certain.

🔗 Official Links:

The only place to get daily and bonus Galactic Horrors stories with no ads or interruptions is Patreon:

📡 Join Patreon: https://patreon.com/GalacticHorrors

Galactic Horrors stories are also available as eBooks on Amazon, with new releases every week:

📚 eBooks: https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B0H2F5M2B3/allbooks

📖 Written by Galactic Horrors

⚠️ Content Ownership Notice

All stories, artwork, thumbnails, and animations featured on this channel are original creations of Galactic Horrors. I do not accept or feature submissions from other creators. Unauthorized reproduction, redistribution, or re-uploading of any content from this channel, in any form, is strictly prohibited and constitutes a violation of copyright. Legal action may be taken against any parties found infringing these rights.

📜 Fictional Work Disclaimer

This story is a work of fiction created for entertainment purposes only. The events, characters, and organizations portrayed are entirely fictional, and any references to governmental bodies, entities, or individuals are not intended to represent reality. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real-life events or organizations is purely coincidental.

#scifi #scifihorror #creepypasta

Disclosure: This episode includes AI-generated elements.

Hosted on Acast. See https://acast.com/privacy for more information.

Two winters ago, something escaped from the laboratory at a secret army research station deep in the northern pines. The scientists vanished the same night. Officially, they are away on fieldwork, and the army now fills the station with punished men.

On his first night there, a storeman stripped of his stripes for selling his own soldiers' boots is cut from elbow to wrist by something he cannot see. Then the lamplight shows him the yard. Dozens of towering, eyeless things stand among the barracks, lifting sleeping soldiers out of their bunks by one ankle and posting them through the laboratory's broken windows. Only the men they cut can see them, and only until the wound heals.

His new sight makes him useful. As a point man, he walks ahead into the forest to snare their young, and the reward is the one thing worth having here: a bunk across the yard, where the safe men sleep.

But his cut is closing, the creatures are fading from his sight, and he still doesn't know what happens to the men carried inside. The answer waits behind a padlocked door, and like everything at the station, the key has a price.

🔗 Official Links:

The only place to get daily and bonus Galactic Horrors stories with no ads or interruptions is Patreon:

📡 Join Patreon: https://patreon.com/GalacticHorrors

Galactic Horrors stories are also available as eBooks on Amazon, with new releases every week:

📚 eBooks: https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B0H2F5M2B3/allbooks

📖 Written by Galactic Horrors

⚠️ Content Ownership Notice

All stories, artwork, thumbnails, and animations featured on this channel are original creations of Galactic Horrors. I do not accept or feature submissions from other creators. Unauthorized reproduction, redistribution, or re-uploading of any content from this channel, in any form, is strictly prohibited and constitutes a violation of copyright. Legal action may be taken against any parties found infringing these rights.

📜 Fictional Work Disclaimer

This story is a work of fiction created for entertainment purposes only. The events, characters, and organizations portrayed are entirely fictional, and any references to governmental bodies, entities, or individuals are not intended to represent reality. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real-life events or organizations is purely coincidental.

#scifi #scifihorror #creepypasta

Disclosure: This episode includes AI-generated elements.

Hosted on Acast. See https://acast.com/privacy for more information.

Every time the truck stops, whoever is standing nearest its back doors begins to slow. Words drag. Faces sag. Then they fall flat and sink into the asphalt, and they keep sinking.

The cargo is a warm grey stone the size of a fist, heavy enough to bend the light around it, resting on a stack of steel plates it is slowly falling through. The man paid to haul it has one rule: never stop longer than it takes to fuel. A voice on a sealed radio picks every stop.

Along Interstate 80, people have learned to live with it. Drivers move their rigs when this one pulls in. A tow truck waits at the pumps before anyone calls. Children chalk outlines on the asphalt and take turns lying inside them.

The driver is sixty-one, fired for falling asleep at the wheel, with nobody left to miss him. Behind the voice on the radio, something knocks, slow and heavy, far below. He has heard that sound once before, lying on a farmhouse lawn in Nebraska.

🔗 Official Links:

The only place to get daily and bonus Galactic Horrors stories with no ads or interruptions is Patreon:

📡 Join Patreon: https://patreon.com/GalacticHorrors

Galactic Horrors stories are also available as eBooks on Amazon, with new releases every week:

📚 eBooks: https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B0H2F5M2B3/allbooks

📖 Written by Galactic Horrors

⚠️ Content Ownership Notice

All stories, artwork, thumbnails, and animations featured on this channel are original creations of Galactic Horrors. I do not accept or feature submissions from other creators. Unauthorized reproduction, redistribution, or re-uploading of any content from this channel, in any form, is strictly prohibited and constitutes a violation of copyright. Legal action may be taken against any parties found infringing these rights.

📜 Fictional Work Disclaimer

This story is a work of fiction created for entertainment purposes only. The events, characters, and organizations portrayed are entirely fictional, and any references to governmental bodies, entities, or individuals are not intended to represent reality. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real-life events or organizations is purely coincidental.

#scifi #scifihorror #creepypasta

Disclosure: This episode includes AI-generated elements.

Hosted on Acast. See https://acast.com/privacy for more information.

For twenty-two years, an aging captain has fished the rings of a sea that drains endlessly into a vast hole past the horizon, where the catch grows richer the closer a boat dares to go. Each time he comes up short, the cannery that owns his trawler rivets another iron plate to her bow, and the newest one now sits at the waterline. One more short season will cost him his boat.

The only water rich enough to save him lies beyond the Barren Ring, where no bird flies and no net comes up with anything. When he was a boy, one man crossed it and came home so heavy with fish that the sea ran across his deck. The cannery rang the bell kept for a man who owes nothing and put his smiling face on every tin, and the boy pasted a hundred of those labels above his bed.

Forty-four years later, that man still waves at the harbor mouth every morning from a freshly painted boat the cannery has never let him sail. Now, with one season left, the captain takes his own crew across the Barren Ring, where no captain since has ever come back.

🔗 Official Links:

The only place to get daily and bonus Galactic Horrors stories with no ads or interruptions is Patreon:

📡 Join Patreon: https://patreon.com/GalacticHorrors

Galactic Horrors stories are also available as eBooks on Amazon, with new releases every week:

📚 eBooks: https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B0H2F5M2B3/allbooks

📖 Written by Galactic Horrors

⚠️ Content Ownership Notice

All stories, artwork, thumbnails, and animations featured on this channel are original creations of Galactic Horrors. I do not accept or feature submissions from other creators. Unauthorized reproduction, redistribution, or re-uploading of any content from this channel, in any form, is strictly prohibited and constitutes a violation of copyright. Legal action may be taken against any parties found infringing these rights.

📜 Fictional Work Disclaimer

This story is a work of fiction created for entertainment purposes only. The events, characters, and organizations portrayed are entirely fictional, and any references to governmental bodies, entities, or individuals are not intended to represent reality. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real-life events or organizations is purely coincidental.

#scifi #scifihorror #creepypasta

Disclosure: This episode includes AI-generated elements.

Hosted on Acast. See https://acast.com/privacy for more information.

For two decades he has torn apart dead frontier colonies, and each one died of something he could dig up: a bad well, a burst dam, a hillside that came down in the dark. Every one except the farm town where half the town slid sideways across flat ground overnight and stopped as neatly as a train at a platform.

Six years later, the believers who stayed behind send for a man with a digging machine. They have a god buried under their broken town, and they want it dug out.

They drink rust scraped from its hide until their mouths turn orange. They wrap their hands in leather and keep clear of him. Their deacon wears his own severed hands on a cord. And every dusk, while the faithful watch from the banks, the outsider must kneel in the pit and lay his bare palm on the black metal. It is warm under the frozen dirt, and warmer each night. Every night afterward, the ground shivers, sooner and harder.

He blames the digging. Then his scanner shows him what lies beneath the town, and how far past the horizon it runs. The faithful asked for a digging machine. What they need is his bare hands, and they have no intention of letting him leave.

🔗 Official Links:

The only place to get daily and bonus Galactic Horrors stories with no ads or interruptions is Patreon:

📡 Join Patreon: https://patreon.com/GalacticHorrors

Galactic Horrors stories are also available as eBooks on Amazon, with new releases every week:

📚 eBooks: https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B0H2F5M2B3/allbooks

📖 Written by Galactic Horrors

⚠️ Content Ownership Notice

All stories, artwork, thumbnails, and animations featured on this channel are original creations of Galactic Horrors. I do not accept or feature submissions from other creators. Unauthorized reproduction, redistribution, or re-uploading of any content from this channel, in any form, is strictly prohibited and constitutes a violation of copyright. Legal action may be taken against any parties found infringing these rights.

📜 Fictional Work Disclaimer

This story is a work of fiction created for entertainment purposes only. The events, characters, and organizations portrayed are entirely fictional, and any references to governmental bodies, entities, or individuals are not intended to represent reality. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real-life events or organizations is purely coincidental.

#scifi #scifihorror #creepypasta

Disclosure: This episode includes AI-generated elements.

Hosted on Acast. See https://acast.com/privacy for more information.

For eight years, a sapper sergeant has walked down into fresh bomb craters at first light and signed them closed. On the siege world of Bracken, six-ton spikes dropped from orbit cave in the tunnels of a burrowing enemy, and his signature certifies the ground has fallen. Every crater he signs is a piece of the war that is over.

Then a crater he sealed in the spring opens again. The thousand tons of stone he dropped into its tunnel are gone. The bone-hard door behind it should be cold. It is warm, and it gives under his hand. The listening bore picks up a wet, endless grinding, like something eating. In the haze over the basin, spotters see jointed legs hundreds of feet tall, perfectly still.

The army logs it as enemy activity, though nobody in his sector has seen a live one topside in over a year. He warns that the bombing must stop. Command answers with a final drop on every crater in the basin, citing his own report.

The first target is the crater he signed. Whatever lies beneath it grows stronger with every strike, and the army is about to give it everything it has.

🔗 Official Links:

The only place to get daily and bonus Galactic Horrors stories with no ads or interruptions is Patreon:

📡 Join Patreon: https://patreon.com/GalacticHorrors

Galactic Horrors stories are also available as eBooks on Amazon, with new releases every week:

📚 eBooks: https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B0H2F5M2B3/allbooks

📖 Written by Galactic Horrors

⚠️ Content Ownership Notice

All stories, artwork, thumbnails, and animations featured on this channel are original creations of Galactic Horrors. I do not accept or feature submissions from other creators. Unauthorized reproduction, redistribution, or re-uploading of any content from this channel, in any form, is strictly prohibited and constitutes a violation of copyright. Legal action may be taken against any parties found infringing these rights.

📜 Fictional Work Disclaimer

This story is a work of fiction created for entertainment purposes only. The events, characters, and organizations portrayed are entirely fictional, and any references to governmental bodies, entities, or individuals are not intended to represent reality. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real-life events or organizations is purely coincidental.

#scifi #scifihorror #creepypasta

Disclosure: This episode includes AI-generated elements.

Hosted on Acast. See https://acast.com/privacy for more information.

One January night in Nebraska, a high school science teacher watches a star slip behind Saturn's largest moon and stay lit four seconds too long. He checks his equipment twice. Nothing is wrong.

Two years later, after other amateurs have caught the sky in small mistakes of their own, the nation's beloved space program offers him a seat on a flight to the edge of the solar system. Aboard, the sky reaches the crew on screens, redrawn every second. One man refuses to look at them: an aging map historian who plots their course by hand with a steel pen and a brass sighting glass. His numbers don't match the screens. And someone has taken a razor to the ending of every book in the ship's library.

On the morning the screens announce arrival, the sun in the old man's glass is still a disc when it should be a point of light. Through the telescope, the stars ahead begin blinking out and back, one after another, along a straight line, as if something were standing in front of them.

He was brought along to look. No one has told him what happens when he says what he sees.

🔗 Official Links:

The only place to get daily and bonus Galactic Horrors stories with no ads or interruptions is Patreon:

📡 Join Patreon: https://patreon.com/GalacticHorrors

Galactic Horrors stories are also available as eBooks on Amazon, with new releases every week:

📚 eBooks: https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B0H2F5M2B3/allbooks

📖 Written by Galactic Horrors

⚠️ Content Ownership Notice

All stories, artwork, thumbnails, and animations featured on this channel are original creations of Galactic Horrors. I do not accept or feature submissions from other creators. Unauthorized reproduction, redistribution, or re-uploading of any content from this channel, in any form, is strictly prohibited and constitutes a violation of copyright. Legal action may be taken against any parties found infringing these rights.

📜 Fictional Work Disclaimer

This story is a work of fiction created for entertainment purposes only. The events, characters, and organizations portrayed are entirely fictional, and any references to governmental bodies, entities, or individuals are not intended to represent reality. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real-life events or organizations is purely coincidental.

#scifi #scifihorror #creepypasta

Disclosure: This episode includes AI-generated elements.

Hosted on Acast. See https://acast.com/privacy for more information.

On a generation ship three hundred years from anywhere, the missing rations have an official name: spoilage. Every quarter the census office writes off a few thousand people's worth of water and oats, stamps the box, and goes home to bed.

Then one census officer finds a man in a gray work shirt who has let himself into a family's quarters at the same minute every night for eleven years. His own files show he has found this stranger thirty-one times, closed every case as spoilage, and signed each one himself. He remembers none of them.

Now the forgetting is coming for him. His name lifts off his own marriage certificate. Men he has worked beside for years welcome him to the department. His wife of twelve years opens their door on the chain and looks at him like a stranger. By morning she has signed a declaration that he does not exist, and Housing's bailiffs are coming to rivet the door shut.

In the ship's hidden spaces, the people nobody sees still light the galley kettles and raise the newborns their mothers forgot. There may be one way to make his wife see him again. The chapel rail is hung with the locked belts of couples who tried it.

🔗 Official Links:

The only place to get daily and bonus Galactic Horrors stories with no ads or interruptions is Patreon:

📡 Join Patreon: https://patreon.com/GalacticHorrors

Galactic Horrors stories are also available as eBooks on Amazon, with new releases every week:

📚 eBooks: https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B0H2F5M2B3/allbooks

📖 Written by Galactic Horrors

⚠️ Content Ownership Notice

All stories, artwork, thumbnails, and animations featured on this channel are original creations of Galactic Horrors. I do not accept or feature submissions from other creators. Unauthorized reproduction, redistribution, or re-uploading of any content from this channel, in any form, is strictly prohibited and constitutes a violation of copyright. Legal action may be taken against any parties found infringing these rights.

📜 Fictional Work Disclaimer

This story is a work of fiction created for entertainment purposes only. The events, characters, and organizations portrayed are entirely fictional, and any references to governmental bodies, entities, or individuals are not intended to represent reality. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real-life events or organizations is purely coincidental.

#scifi #scifihorror #creepypasta

Disclosure: This episode includes AI-generated elements.

Hosted on Acast. See https://acast.com/privacy for more information.