Hey Pandas, Write A Horror Story! (Closed)

If you’ve ever stared at a blinking cursor thinking, “Okay, but what if the monster is just my inbox?”, then the Bored Panda community’s prompt “Hey Pandas, Write A Horror Story! (Closed)” was basically made for you. Even though that particular thread is closed now, the spirit of it lives on every time someone sits down to write a short horror story and share it with strangers on the internet who are just as eager to be creeped out.

This guide walks you through what that prompt was all about, why short horror works so well in a community like Bored Panda, and how to craft your own spine-tingling story for future prompts and writing spaces. Think of it as your friendly manual to turning “I have a creepy idea” into “I just scared myself a little.”

What Was “Hey Pandas, Write A Horror Story! (Closed)”?

Bored Panda’s community area, especially the Ask Pandas section, invites readers to respond to themed prompts with their own stories, opinions, and weird life moments. Over the years, prompts have asked everything from “What’s the incident you’ll never live down?” to “If your life had a viral Bored Panda headline, what would it be?” Each one opens a space for everyday people to share something creative or personal in an informal, low-pressure way.

“Hey Pandas, Write A Horror Story! (Closed)” was one of those community callsonly this time the theme was fear. Instead of commenting with confessions or cute anecdotes, readers were invited to share their scariest short horror tales. Once the submission window closed, the thread remained as a sort of mini anthology: dozens of bite-size nightmares stacked in the comments, each with its own twist.

Even if you missed that exact prompt, Bored Panda continues to run similar open-list community posts where people can submit short stories, including horror. The formula is simple: a prompt, a word-count suggestion (or not), a big comment box, and a community that loves to read, upvote, and react.

Why Short Horror Stories Work So Well Online

Horror might sound like something that belongs in 400-page novels or blockbuster films, but short horror is perfectly suited for internet culture. A comment box or a small submission form practically begs for micro-stories that people can read in a single scroll.

They Hit Fast and Leave a Mark

Short horror stories rely on compression. You don’t have room for long backstories or slow exposition. Instead, you build tension quickly and push toward a single disturbing image, twist, or realization. That’s ideal for online readers who are skimming on their phones during lunch or in bed under the covers (bad idea, by the way).

They’re Perfect for Community Prompts

Prompts like “Write a horror story in 100 words” or “Share your creepiest micro-fiction” take away the pressure of perfection. You’re not writing The Next Great American Novel; you’re playing. That playfulness is what makes community-driven posts like Bored Panda’s horror prompt so addictivepeople come for the scares and stay for the creativity and comments.

They Invite Many Types of Fear

Within a single thread, you might see:

• Supernatural horror – ghosts, demons, haunted houses.
• Psychological horror – unreliable narrators, gaslighting, paranoia.
• Body horror – transformations and physical changes.
• Everyday horror – realistic scenarios that feel a little too possible.

That mix keeps the thread engaging and shows new writers that their idea doesn’t have to be “epic” to be scary. Sometimes the most horrifying story is just one wrong knock at the door.

Key Ingredients of a Great Short Horror Story

If reading those Bored Panda horror stories made you think, “I want to try this,” good news: horror is teachable. You don’t need fancy degrees to write something that gives people goosebumps. But you do need a few core elements.

1. A Clear Core Fear

The most effective horror usually starts with an identifiable fear: being watched, losing control, being trapped, realizing you’re not alone, or discovering that you are, in fact, completely alone. Before you write a single sentence, finish this thought:

“This story is scary because it taps into the fear of ________.”

When you know the fear, every detail can support itsetting, descriptions, even the rhythm of your sentences.

2. A Character We Actually Care About

Jump scares don’t work in text. What does? Caring about someone and not wanting them to get hurt. Even in a 200-word horror story, give the reader something to latch onto. This can be as simple as:

• A single detail (“She always slept with one sock on because…”).
• A goal (“He just wanted to get home in time for his kid’s recital.”).
• A flaw (“She never believed in warnings.”).

We don’t need their entire childhood, but we need something human before the horror hits.

3. Setting That Does More Than Sit There

In horror, the setting is basically another character. Instead of just saying “a dark hallway,” ask what about this hallway is unique and unsettling. Is it too quiet? Does one light always flicker when no one walks under it? Does the wallpaper bulge like something is breathing behind it?

Small, concrete detailssounds, smells, texturesguide the reader’s imagination better than vague “creepy vibes.”

4. Rising Tension, Even in a Tiny Space

Think of your story as a climb up a roller coaster: click, click, click, drop. In micro-horror, the climb might be only a few paragraphs, but it’s still there. Each line should:

• Add new information that makes things worse or stranger.
• Remove a layer of safety (the power goes out, the phone dies, the door is jammed).
• Hint that whatever is wrong is more serious than the character thinks.

By the time you reach the last sentence, the reader should feel that this ending is the only possible outcomeeven if it still shocks them.

5. A Memorable Final Beat

Bored Panda–style horror stories often live or die on their final line. That’s the moment that makes readers gasp, laugh nervously, or scroll straight to the comments to say, “NOPE.” Your last beat can be:

• A twist that recontextualizes everything we just read.
• A chilling image (the reflection moves after the character turns away).
• A simple, awful realization (“The baby monitor wasn’t plugged in.”).

Don’t over-explain the horror at the end. The brain is fantastic at filling in the worst possible version of eventslet it do some of the work.

How to Turn a Prompt Into a Finished Horror Story

Scrolling past a prompt like “Hey Pandas, Write A Horror Story!” is easy. Stopping to actually write one is where the magic (and the mild terror) happens. Here’s a simple process you can use for any future horror prompt, whether it’s on Bored Panda or another platform.

Step 1: Start with a Tiny “What If?”

You don’t need a fully formed plot. You just need one disturbing thought. For example:

• What if the GPS kept calmly directing you to a place that doesn’t exist?
• What if your smart home started correcting youabout things you swear you never said or did?
• What if your pet stared at a corner of the room and growled every night at exactly 3:11 a.m.?

Pick your favorite “what if” and commit. Don’t wait for the “perfect” idea. Horror loves imperfect, messy, slightly ridiculous premises that turn unexpectedly sinister.

Step 2: Limit Your Space on Purpose

Community prompts often encourage flash fiction: 100–300 words, sometimes more. Instead of seeing that as a restriction, treat it as a creative challenge. Ask yourself:

• What is the single most important moment in this situation?
• What details can I cut without losing the core fear?
• Can I hint at a larger world without explaining every rule?

Short horror thrives on implication. Say less, suggest more.

Step 3: Draft Messy, Edit Mean

On your first pass, let yourself overwrite. Add too many adjectives, explain too much, rant about how creepy old basements are. Once it’s out of your head, go back with ruthless scissors:

• Cut every detail that doesn’t serve your core fear.
• Replace vague words (“scary,” “weird”) with specific sensory images.
• Check that each sentence either raises tension or deepens character.

By the end, your story should feel sharp, lean, and deliberatelike a jump scare in text form.

Step 4: Read It Out Loud (Preferably Not at 3 A.M.)

Horror is about rhythm. Long, flowing sentences can lull the reader into comfort; short, clipped ones can spike their anxiety. Reading your story out loud helps you hear where the tension stalls or where a line lands perfectly.

If you trip over a sentence, your reader probably will too. Smooth it outor, in horror terms, sharpen it.

Sharing Your Horror Story in a Community Like Bored Panda

Posting a horror story in a public thread can feel scarier than anything you write. But community spaces are designed for experimentation and growth. Here’s how to get the most out of them:

Respect the Prompt and the Space

Stay within the theme, follow any word-count or content guidelines, and be mindful of real-world trauma. Horror can be intense without being needlessly graphic or cruel. You’re aiming to unsettle, not to harm.

Engage as a Reader, Not Just a Writer

One of the best parts of Bored Panda–style threads is reading everyone else’s take on the same prompt. Notice what works for you as a reader:

• Which stories stay with you a few hours later?
• Which twists genuinely surprised you?
• Which openings grabbed your attention instantly?

Leave kind, specific comments where appropriate. “This was cool” is nice; “That last line made me gasp because I realized the kid was dead the whole time” is even better feedback.

Let Go of Perfection

Community prompts are not book deals; they’re playgrounds. Some of your horror stories will land beautifully. Some will be “learning experiences.” That’s normal. The real win is that you showed up, wrote something, and shared it with people who understand the joy of being pleasantly freaked out.

A Mini Example: A Tiny Horror in 150 Words

To see how all of this comes together, here’s a quick fictional micro-story inspired by the spirit of the “Hey Pandas” prompt:

The baby monitor crackled on at 2:13 a.m.

“Mommy,” a voice whispered. “He’s in my room.”

Sarah sat up, heart pounding. Her son was at his dad’s this weektwo states away. The apartment was silent, except for the low hiss of static.

“Mommy,” the voice said again, soft and urgent. “Don’t let him in.”

Sarah swung her legs over the bed. The hallway light was off. She hadn’t turned it off.

As she reached for the switch, the monitor cleared with a sharp pop.

“He’s at your door now,” the voice breathed.

Someone on the other side knocked, gently, three times.

Short, focused, one clear fear: something unseen deciding when doors open.

What It Feels Like to Join a “Hey Pandas, Write A Horror Story!” Thread

Let’s talk about the experience side of all thisthe stuff that happens in your brain and your browser when you actually jump into a Bored Panda–style horror prompt.

It usually starts quietly. You’re scrolling past cute animal posts and funny relationship threads when a title pops up: “Hey Pandas, Write A Horror Story!” You click out of curiosity. At first you’re just a lurker, skimming the top submissions. Some are silly, some are surprisingly dark, others feel like they belong in an anthology.

Then you hit one that genuinely gets under your skin. It might be about something strangely ordinaryan elevator, a voicemail, a neighbor who always waves a little too long. You feel that little chill, that “ew, why did I read this at night?” sensation. And right behind it comes another thought: “I think I could try this.”

Writing your first comment-story feels weirdly vulnerable. You type a line, delete it, rewrite it. You wonder if your idea is too simple or too weird. You wonder if people will scroll right past. You wonder if you’re about to embarrass yourself in front of thousands of strangers who all seem a lot more talented than you.

But you also know this is one of the friendlier corners of the internet. People come here to be entertained, not to nitpick grammar. So you take a breath, trim your story, add one more creepy detail to the last line, and hit “Post.” For a second, nothing happens. Your heart rate does not get the memo that this is not, in fact, a life-or-death situation.

Then the tiny things start: an upvote, a reply, maybe a comment that says, “That ending! I did not see that coming.” Someone else jokes that they’re leaving the lights on tonight. Another user says your story reminded them of an old urban legend from their hometown. The anxiety eases, replaced by a small surge of “oh wow, I made a stranger feel something.” That’s a quietly addictive feeling.

The more you participate, the more patterns you notice. You realize that the stories people react to most aren’t always the most complicatedthey’re often the ones with a clean concept and a sharp final beat. You see how different writers approach the same theme: one leans hard into gore, another into psychological dread, another into bittersweet melancholy with a horror edge. You learn as much from the ones that don’t quite land as from the ones that do.

Over time, these threads become little creative rituals. Maybe you challenge yourself to respond to every horror-related prompt for a month. Maybe you experiment with different voices: one day writing from the perspective of a haunted house, another day as a glitchy app, another as a very tired ghost. You laugh at yourself when an idea falls flat, and you file away the ones that unexpectedly resonate with readers.

Most importantly, you stop seeing horror writing as something distant and elite. It becomes a conversation you’re part of: between you, your fears, and a bunch of internet strangers who voluntarily show up to be spooked for a few minutes. Even when a particular “Hey Pandas” thread is closed, that experience stays with you. Next time you see a similar prompton Bored Panda or anywhere elseyou’re more likely to think, “Yeah, I’ve got a story for that.”

And that’s the real horror twist: the more you write, the less you fear the blank page… even if what you’re writing about is the thing lurking just beyond it.

Conclusion

Short horror stories and community prompts like “Hey Pandas, Write A Horror Story! (Closed)” prove that you don’t need a full-length novel or a Hollywood budget to unsettle someonein the best way. With a clear core fear, a believable character, carefully chosen details, and a strong final beat, you can turn a simple comment box into a haunted house readers are happy to walk into.

So next time you see a horror prompt pop up in your feed, don’t just scroll by. Open a new comment, invite your favorite fear in, and let it speak. The worst that can happen is that someone reads your story in the dark and whispers, “Oh no. Absolutely not.” Which, for a horror writer, is pretty much the dream.

SEO Summary

meta_title: Hey Pandas, Write A Horror Story | Bored Panda Guide

meta_description: Learn what “Hey Pandas, Write A Horror Story!” is, plus practical tips for writing and sharing short horror stories online.

sapo: Curious about Bored Panda’s community prompt “Hey Pandas, Write A Horror Story! (Closed)” and how people manage to scare readers in just a few paragraphs? This in-depth guide breaks down why short horror works so well online, the key ingredients of a great micro-story, and how to turn any horror prompt into a punchy tale with a chilling final line. You’ll also get a tiny sample story and a behind-the-scenes look at what it actually feels like to join a “Hey Pandas” horror thread, so you can confidently craft your own terrifying contribution the next time a spooky prompt appears in your feed.

keywords: Hey Pandas Write A Horror Story, Bored Panda horror stories, short horror story prompts, flash fiction horror, how to write a horror story, community writing prompts, online horror writing