Anthony Horowitz Horror Books Novels & Stories

I swear I will never, ever let Anna enter into a relationship with the man whose parents murdered hers. Anthony violently closed the book immediately, the heavy thud muffled only by the dim room. His heart started beating at a terrifyingly fast pace, his eyes widening in pure horror. What the hell did I just read? A low, sleepy groan from the bed shattered the silence. Panic seized him, causing him to hurriedly shove the book back into the bag. Anna shifted under the blankets, blinking open her heavy eyes. "Anthony...?" she murmured, her voice thick with exhaustion. "Why are you standing all the way over there?"

The light in the cracks pulsed, a slow heartbeat. Then, from deep within the ruins, a sound echoed. A whisper. No. Not a whisper. A breath. Something was here. Elior drew his sword. "Stay close." Bram tightened his grip on his axe, his usual easygoing demeanor gone. "Great. More nightmares." They moved deeper into the city, stepping carefully around collapsed structures and broken archways. The further they went, the worse the sensation became, a pressure in the air, like being watched by something vast and unseen.

The following day, lessons with Mr Frank went on, and the more I learned with him, I also had to read a few books about being a good witch. "Agatha, what are you doing?"... Dad called my name from downstairs. Tonight's the birthday celebration of Zandor and also the start of his rebellion. Mr Frank and a few others in the system have a good plan of murdering him, and in case that doesn't work. I will have to step in and murder him myself.

Anthony walked straight along the deserted literature department corridor. His steps were so calm and full of confidence. The smell of old books and dust filled his senses as he turned right towards the storage room. He pressed his palm against the rough surface of the door. His eyes moved to the right, feeling the presence of someone around him. At the count of three, Anthony turned quickly and ambushed his stalker before dragging her into a dusty old storage room. “You should take my words more seriously, Jane.”

"What's this?" "Go ahead, open it." Rosie carefully started unwrapping the gift to reveal a book. "I Go Quiet," she glanced up at Anthony, a gentle smile tugging on her lips. "I haven't heard of this one." Anthony shrugged nonchalantly, his heart pattering with anxiety. He was terrified to see her reaction, scared she would hate it. "I'm not much of a bookworm so it might just be the worst thing you've ever read. My grandmother helped pick it out."

Hansel and Gretel, except in this one, the witch didn’t perish in the oven. Instead, she turned the children into crows and fed them to her wolves. I flipped to the end, my heartbeat pounding. Every single tale was warped. Twisted. Happy endings devoured by shadows. I stared at the shelf, horror blooming inside me. Dozens of books, all telling the same message: Good will always lose. “Xareth,” I whispered aloud. That monster. That evening, I took my dinner plate and found Zevarion near the garden. I shared my food with him and told him what I’d discovered. His laughter came like a breeze in spring, light, sweet, and momentarily soothing.

I need to discipline the vampires. *** The next morning, Max, the crossword witcher, was sitting at a bar table working on a new puzzle. Looks like she's been poring over the entire philosophy section of the bookstore looking for answers. Isn't that considered cheating? Horus, who I was told was Horus, the Egyptian god of the sky, was sitting outside a bookstore drinking a black-and-brown drink. Don't ask. I have no idea if he was the real Gore, nor do I know what he was doing in San Francisco. He scared me a little, so I tried to interact with him as little as possible. When Owen walked in, I dug the information out of him, thinking it was quite polite to let him put my backpack away before

The thought was so distasteful that he’d refused to truly consider it. A knock sounded on his door. When Anthony opened the door, there was no one there, except for a small package on his doorstep. Frowning, he picked up the package. There was no return address on it. Was someone trying to kill him with Anthrax? It was such an amusingly morbid thought that he chuckled under his breath. He opened the package, only to discover it was far from poison: it was a book. He began to flip through it, astonishment filling him.

OSTARA’S POV Anthony’s study always felt like the safest room in the house—dark wood, steady lighting, walls lined with books that made everything feel grounded. Today, even the room seemed on edge. We spoke in angry whispers, the kind people use when they don’t want the person in the next room to hear them. Anthony leaned close to me, jaw clenched, voice low. “I don’t trust her. Not one bit.” “I don’t either,” I whispered back. “But have you actually looked at her? She didn’t even look like this when we found her after she disappeared for all those years!”

"They have, ever since she was born." Cassandra set the little serpent among the piles of gold coins. The creature sagged in defeat and exhaustion after lying before that terrible fire. "There it is," Vasilisa's voice came from behind a mountain of walnut-sized raw rubies. It wasn't hard to find the book. It was placed on a golden stand in between two golden Sirin statues. The grimoire turned out to be the largest book Cassandra had ever seen, with pages made of parchment illuminated with tracery, and it was open to a page thickly covered with elegant, intricate writing.