19th Century Horror Novels Novels & Stories

“Ward, what have you been able to find out?” His hand hovered over the worn, leather cover. “This book is very old. I believe it was likely written in the mid- to late-sixteenth century, possibly earlier. At that time, Vampires controlled much of Scotland and Ireland, as you know, and they would continue to dominate that area of the world for the next several centuries. It’s basically a manual for all sorts of information to be left for successors, should anything become of the kings and queens of the time, though they obviously expected to live forever.”

In some cultures the dead were buried facedown to prevent them from finding their way out of their graves. The modern incarnation of vampire myth seems to have stemmed largely from Gothic European literature of the 18th and 19th centuries, about the time vampire hysteria was peaking in Europe. Vampiric figures appeared in 18th-century poetry, such as Heinrich August Ossenfelder’s “Der Vampyr” (1748), about a seemingly vampiric narrator who seduces an innocent maiden. Vampire poems began appearing in English about the turn of the 19th century, such as John Stagg’s “The Vampyre” (1810) and Lord Byron’s The Giaour (1813). The first prose vampire story published in English is believed to be John

He added and began to read while I chuckled. “What’s in that...?” I asked him. “It’s a funny myth… Monsters and everything…” He added and I began to laugh while walking around that row when suddenly, I looked at the portion of 15th to 17th century where I found a book on Werewolves. I couldn’t believe that I would ever find a whole book on Werewolves. I quickly walked over to it and grabbed it. The book looked quite old but seemed informative.

, he said, nodding. I grew happy with myself. The principal, on the other hand, just sat there drowned in confusion. "1800s?" he asked, confused. "Yes, we are vampires," I pointed out. "Vampires?" he shrieked. "Yes, created in the 1st century", Solomon added, joining the fun. "But...but...but that's impossible", he stuttered, trying to convince himself we were lying. Well, bad luck for him because we aren't.

Caitlin dove into the book, scanning through, turning the pages as fast as she could, looking for any mention of vampires, of how to heal or cure one, how to bring one back to normal life. As she began to read, she suddenly slowed down. She went back and read it again. Then again. Her heart started beating with hope. She could tell right away that this book was very different than the others. This, of all the books, felt the most real to her, the most scholarly, the most impartial. It wasn’t filled with hyperbole and myth and wild stories told by grandmothers. This one was written, paradoxically, by a bishop, in the 16th century. Also a doctor, he had seen dozens of inexplicable cases of cor

Who was going to attack me on my own turf? If they did, they'd face retaliation from the dungeon itself! The entire way there, no one saw a single soul, and we only started seeing signs of life when we came closer to the village. When we saw the villagers, however, Anna couldn't help but screech, "These aren't villagers, they're all monsters!" In the past, the villagers in my dungeon did look like humans through and through. However, as a result, they didn't seem scary at all, and didn't feel comfortable with human skin, either.

Or maybe it was the terrifying pictures that hung down the walls that were the cause of the quiver running down my spine. On both sides of the foyer hung several pictures of demons, vampires and monsters. I bit my nails while I studied the pictures even though they unsettled me. I guessed at least half of the pictures were from the 1500s The first portrait that caught my attention featured a very tall, grey skeleton-like man who was holding several sharp objects in his hands. The skeleton man had worms and maggots in his belly and body, and his dead skin was hanging off his bones like worn-out rags.

"What the hell... How old are they! —No one saw anything out of the ordinary about them, that's what my great—great—great grandfather wrote in his journal, but when the disappearances of young women began they started looking for clues to whatever was going on, but it was as if the earth was swallowing them up, there was no trace of those girls left until the day he saw that same vampire that... Antton, tearing a girl to pieces without mercy My hands are shaking so I hide them because I couldn't even believe it, she keeps talking more about them and when I had my chance I asked what year that had been and when I heard the year my mouth literally fell to the floor because that was in the year

“Were these any help, detective?” “I’m afraid not,” I said, defeated. I was in a bit of a daze after staring at projected newsprint on the dim screen. I leaned on the desk and looked around the building absentmindedly until my eyes finally settled on a small sign hanging on a table covered with a neat stack of books. “Warning: The Library is Not Responsible for Nightmares!” I read out loud, walking over to look at the books. Well-worn volumes with pink skulls grinning back at me from stickers on their spines. Dracula. Frankenstein. The Invisible Man.

She walked to the whiteboard, picked up a marker, and wrote in large capital letters, the word IMMORTALITY. "I understand that next week you will be moving away from Shakespeare and jumping into Gothic horror literature ... just in time for Halloween." General interest spiked. Halloween was a favorite holiday for most students. Me? My life was already a nightmare. Who needed costumes when real monsters were already roaming our town? "By any chance, has anyone read The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde?" asked Mrs. Jackson. Students looked around at each other, but no one raised their hand. "How about Bram Stoker's Dracula?"