Bedtime Scary Stories Novels & Stories

Grandma told. "I am scared grandma." She mumbled. She rubbed her eyes as she was feeling sleepy. "You should now sleep sweetheart. I will continue the story tomorrow." Grandma said and was about to get up when Thea hold her hand in her little ones and stopped her. "No Grandma, please continue the story. I am not sleepy." She said and gave her puppy eyes. "You are getting scared Thea. You will wet your bed if I continue the story." Grandma said. "I don't wet my b-bed grandma." Thea said with red cheeks. "And I am a big girl now and big girls don't get scared of anything, not even the lycans." Thea said and giggled at her own words.

Then, in a stage whisper: “I bet you won’t touch the haunted chair.” “What haunted chair?” came Max’s terrified voice. “The one in the corner,” Eddie answered dramatically. There was no haunted chair. It was a perfectly innocent armchair. But this is how sleepovers go from cute to creepy in record time. “Go to sleep,” I warned. “Sorry, Mom,” Eddie called. 9:45 p.m. Claire left, after swearing I owed her a margarita for the trauma she’d witnessed. 10:30 p.m. I heard hushed voices.

Christian nodded yes and I grabbed and tickled him until he couldn’t laugh anymore. “Okay let’s see what this story is about.” I took the book and read to him while he lay next to Adara and held her hand. His eyes closed at the fourth paragraph and I read two more to make sure he was sleeping. We kissed him goodnight on his forehead and left the night light on. Some nights he was afraid of the dark and other nights it didn’t bother him at all. I wasn’t worried. It was normal for kids to be afraid of the dark. Especially if they saw a dead woman in it talking to them.

As I stepped out and fumbled for my towel, a spooky creak scraped along the doorframe, sending a jolt of fear through my veins. Gosh, why did I do this to myself? I had this terrible habit of reading horror stories and spending sleepless nights huddled under the covers in fear. And then it came again, the same scraping noise but followed by muffled, ominous laughter. It was definitely not my overactive imagination. Did someone else use this room when I wasn't around at night? Goosebumps erupted across my already prickling skin as I slowly opened the door a sliver to look. It was only a quarter past nine, too early for ghosts to come out. At least in the stories I read, they waited till midni

asked one of them. “I have some back in the room. It’s for the sleepover.” replied the other. “I’m so excited!” “Me too! I can’t wait for the Bloody Mary! I will be the one to try it out first!” “Oh my gee! Are we going to read some creepypasta stories for the scary parts?” “Yes! And I heard Nympha will also tell us some true supernatural stories when she was still in the Philippines!”

I asked frowning, I have never heard about this. Ray laughed, “ It was in the bedtime stories, my mother and granny used to recite them to us to make us scared of going out in the middle of the night. you know how pups are! As soon as they start shifting that’s what they all want to do for a long time. The male pups even go out at night to run through the woods. So to keep me and my brothers safe, my mother and granny told us this myth. How at night a creature who is not man nor beast roams the landing of woods and if pups go there, he will eat them.”

The boy is having a nightmare. I want to help. I want to wake him up. I want to flip him over so his nose is not in the pillow. But I couldn't do anything. I have been watching him for forty-one nights. His mother tucks him in at eight-thirty. She reads one story—always the one about the rabbit who gets lost and finds his way home. She kisses his forehead. She turns on the star-shaped nightlight. She closes the door, but leaves it open just a crack so the hallway light spills in like a promise.

“Yeah, I know. Monsters in the shadows, creepy noises that’ll scramble your brains. Honestly? I’m good. Let’s just sleep and move on tomorrow.” I snorted because I couldn’t help it. That’s not even where I was going with all this. But, I’ve heard the spooky bedtime tales too. Did I ever lose sleep over it? Not so much. “Maybe it’s just a bunch of old stories. Maybe not. Either way, I’m not in the mood to find out if it’s real tonight. Let’s just stay put.” Laurel nodded so hard I thought her head might fall off. She looked spooked.

I darted my eyes away quickly-- "You promised," Al said all of a sudden. "What?" I paused in surprise. "No question asked," Al smirked, holding out his hand to me. I was grateful that he didn't ask into it. Night fell. So the thing about horror stories is that-- The fear kicks in only at dark nights when you are alone, not when you are at the crowded theater or on the bright street. Meaning-- I couldn't fall asleep that night. Turns out it's a bit hard to fall asleep when you don't close your eyes because you feel the need to stare at everything with alert.

“And every small town has its local ghost story. There’s no documented evidence.” Devon finally spoke, voice rough as gravel. “There won’t be. Not when the woods don’t just kill you. They take you.” The group fell silent. Above them, the moon rose, bloated and pale behind a veil of thin clouds. And somewhere deep within WildWood, a sound drifted through the night — faint, almost musical. A child’s voice, singing a lullaby off-key. Marla gasped and clamped her hands over her ears. “Don’t listen! Don’t listen!”