Appalachian Mountain Scary Stories の小説・ストーリー

Hmm....umm," Selcus said, nodding. They both went to Spirit Mountain, which was a scary and dark place on top of a hill No one dares to climb on it because the ghost is said to be deep in meditation on top of it. Aside from Fenix, creatures such as witches, bad spirits, vampires, and so on lived in that spirit valley

I said, feigning innocence. I glanced around after speaking. It was true. There wasn't a single living person in sight, but ghosts were everywhere. "This place is cursed!" Charlotte snapped. "I can't even stop. The moment I even think about it, it feels like needles are piercing my hands." Even as she spoke, her hands kept moving. Fear flickered across her face at the scene before her. The terror in her eyes was truly a rare sight to behold. "Is this your doing? Did you come up with all these tricks to scare me? You just want revenge for all the times I picked on you at school, don't you?"

Under those circumstances, he left unable to talk. 'Huh?' Despite not being able to speak, the sound that Darryl made had shocked the mountain people. "What's that?" "A man?" "I think so. Let's go and see…" A few mountain people said and walk forward carefully to take a look. The mountain people were frightened and took deep breaths. They saw an unknown figure lying on the grass, with sinister blood marks all over their face and dark red hair reaching the shoulders. It looked like a caveman or a monster.

Only two are left, facing each other in the coming dawn. Heaps of creatures litter this burned, bloodied ground, none alive. Continue reading... Jonny Angel Oct 2013 Once, I Drove with a Werewolf in Georgia (A Reminisce) It was a magical summer. Lodi blared as fireflies glowed, leaves fluttered in the pure winds of those cool Georgian nights. We scared them foxes something good. You were classic in your favorite auto. They peed in their pants seeing a werewolf and me

Before she could even broach envisioning him helping her parent Cameron, the fantasy had disbanded. She could see Adam there though. His movie played much longer, and more graphically, on her mental screen. Dylan: Your last article was great! What do you think is the best of the hillbilly horror genre? Sidney skimmed the message preview. She still had not answered Dylan. She had not even opened the conversation thread since that first message. His doting compliments tempted her, but even in her regained comfort, new virtual figures unnerved her. Better the devils she already knew.

After two days of high temperatures and intense boredom, he remembered the three books. Sam pulled out the one with the Mummy on the cover, because it looked the most innocuous. It was entitled the Ninth Pan Book of Horror Stories. He wasn’t the least bit prepared for what he found inside. The first three stories involved emasculation, murder and burning at the stake. In his fevered state Sam felt he was not only watching the characters’ suffering, he was experiencing it along with them. He flung the book at the wall and then hid it again, wishing he could burn it like Jinnot, the young girl in the third story who was burned alive.

I shoved the heavy fleece blanket tighter around my shoulders before finally blurting out, “Can somebody please explain what exactly everyone thinks they already know?” Grandma struck a match beneath the black stove burner before answering calmly, “The mountains are restless.” I stared at her flatly, lowering my chin. “Grandma.” “What?” She glanced over her frail shoulder, giving me an innocent look. “I’m old. I’m allowed dramatic phrasing.” Trin pointed an aggressive finger toward her from across the linoleum. “No, because see, that right there is why I thought this family was normal Appalachian weird instead of secret weird.”

It described the far northern mountains—the ones beyond the Thornwood, where no one ever set foot. It was the same place that Andrei described in his letter. There was nothing particularly of use to us written about the mountains—just old stories about the region. Wives’ tales and folklore about all kinds of impish little creatures and dragons and other things that likely hadn’t existed for millennia, if ever. But according to the text, one of the mountains was fabled to be filled with rubies.

By now, we’ve all had more than a few drinks, and we’re halfway between tipsy and passed out. “Let’s tell scary stories,” Laura, one of my friends, suggests. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Kara asks. “These woods are spooky at night. I have to be able to sleep, you know.” “Maybe we should call one of those hunky forest rangers for you,” I suggest with a laugh. “He’d better bring a friend,” Laura says. “Or twelve,” Diana, another friend of mine, adds. We all laugh, and Laura starts in on the first story about night walkers, ghostly figures who march through the forest.

She exclaimed, and I recalled Alpha Marcus’s daily 5 o’clock departure, a consistent routine that dated back to our first conversation. “You don’t know, but the world has so many mysteries, especially North,” she uttered, returning to bed. “Mysterious and dangerous.” I pursed my lips because I’d heard from Grandpa and read in the books in his library that beasts, dragons, witches, vampires, everyone lived there. Even our Lycan King also used to live there before destruction. “Do you know about the attack of vampires on Mooncrest Valley?” A shiver crawled down my spine. “Lycan King’s Valley,”