A Horror Story Novels & Stories

I was in the wrong game? This was a horror game, not an otome romance? In just a few seconds, every strange detail suddenly made sense.

The next second, the Patchwork Monster tore the man in half. He tossed the body outside casually. Just then, a crisp, bell-like voice sounded outside. “It’s after work hours, who’s so rude as to be throwing bodies around?” A young girl with three heads and eight arms appeared at the doorway. With just one look at the shop, anger filled her voice, and her hair stood on end. “Who the hell had a death wish and smashed the Number One Must-Eat shop in the entire horror game?”

The one used in creating the zombies. He shone his eyes in terror immediately. "An X-blood is here. Master must hear of this!" He picked the maggot and a smile curled around his lips.

THERE’S SO MUCH. TATE LANGDON, AMERICAN HORROR STORY 20-MARCH-1930 A family newly moved to Vineyard from the city after facing a couple of hard time. They thought it best to come to a secluded small town and live a cheap normal life but little did they know the house they moved into experienced a terrific incident. Three years before the family moved in, there was once a happy family—the owners of the house, they lived happily till one day all the family members died during their sleep. This continued to happen to every family that moves into the house

DRACULA" which of course was my father's name "This name belongs to my father, I guess its his story" I said, the show was about to begin so we quickly rushed to purchase tickets for the movie When the show started, I began to flashback about my home town, the scenes were based on what had really happen in Transylvania, but the actors and geographical areas, were way nothing like that

She ogled at me angrily as tears threatened to dropped down her soft cheek. "Lov–" She hanged up her hand towards me and rushed back to her room. ~~~~ How are you viewing "nightmares" How is this going to end? 😶😶😶😶 ©Lharry's pen

Epilogue: Now that I have written several of these stories, I find that my old ghosts have started to haunt my dreams yet again. It is amazing that once things are written down, they begin to take on a life of their own. Just remember, if you don’t want things to go bump in the night, don’t tell anyone else about them.

The forest shifted and changed, the trees themselves reaching out to claim them. The experimenters and escapees alike vanished without a trace, their screams echoing through the trees. And when the dawn broke, WildWood was never the same again. The forest now hungered. The trees grew darker, the land more oppressive. The spirits of the lost souls trapped within the woods were no longer merely lingering — they were active, malevolent, and hungry for new souls to torment. In the decades that followed, WildWood became a place of legend. It was no longer just an abandoned hospital — it became something else entirely. The spirits that had been twisted by Halloway’s experiments began to haunt the

The horizon was a jagged smear of charcoal gray and bruised violet. For three years, I had walked toward it, guided by nothing but the rumors whispered in the hushed, terrified voices of dying scavengers. They spoke of a place that held the line, a fortress of humanity amidst the rotting sprawl of the walking dead. They called it "Haven."