Bedtime Stories Horror Novels & Stories

I cleared. "I am wondering." I chuckled nervously. "I wondered the same when my father told me about it, I was nine, I couldn't sleep then," "Haha, you were scared, I never get to hear one you know. Some of these horror books were forbidden by my parents. Instead, they would read to me moonlight stories, fairy princesses and all." "I doubt you look anything like a princess, you lack etiquette." "That's a rude way to speak to a lady." "My apologies."

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.

I and your dad and your principal saw it. Oh!, Thank Goodness. Is today the Halloween Night day Mummy? Yes of course, you ditched school today this afternoon. Let go home first before I explain it all. Wait, are you going to tell me all these Black Cults of a things are true? My dad asked. One of my Friends replied him and said, "Those black Cults came out of the same door you saw and took him away. After thirty minutes, the same door appeared and he came back".

I couldn’t go back to sleep, I was scared of my own mind, having an overactive imagination turned to be a curse in lonely nights, every sound, every murmur my brain translated and turned into a monster hiding in the darkness. “A story, but you are the writer between the two of us,” she says in a reply with a chuckle, she’s right usually I’m the one who makes up the stories, I’m the author, and I’m really proud about it. “I know, but tonight, I need you to do it,” I say in a sad voice, it was more of a whisper, I can’t tell her a story, not with how scared I’m feeling right now, my story would be one about ghosts, fear, demons that lurk outside your home and not the one under the bed ready to

The little girl in the bed giggled as her father tickled her Adam Hale was alive and well and was sitting at the side of his daughter's bed, he kissed her forehead and tucked her into the princess pink blankets and got up to turn off the lights. “One more story daddy please” The little girl whimpered. Adam just smirked looking at his daughter and tried to con him into telling her another scary story. “Nice try, that was the eighth story that I told you since I came into your room an hour ago. Now go to bed little one, I love you.”

A lullaby hums in a voice not your own Sung from the mouths of the buried and dead A faceless thing grins in the wide doorway Stretching its arms, your escort inside Your name is etched on a tomb with no grave A jagged whisperer, an icy brace Your heart beats loud, but not for long Run, run, but your feet won't move The darkness wraps its chains around you I said grin forms in the blackest shade Time runs out, and so will your veins The bells don't toll; the clocks don't chime Only the sound of the end of time Your Shadow melts your hands turn cold The nightmare sings as it takes hold I'm sorry to say, but this is the end Your breath is stolen; no need to pretend A door creaks open; the void

In a nice voice I reply “Just had the scariest nightmare of my life. Why are you awake at 2 in the morning?” If I had of called anyone else, they would have ripped my head off for calling at such an ungodly hour. “Oh, you poor baby, its okay it was just a nightmare.” She purrs. There’s a short pause before she says “Aaron is over and we are watching horror movies, my

Ten-year-old Bree chimed as Emma looked over her shoulder worriedly. “That’s nice, sweetie. Why don’t you tell me about that mermaid story again?” “I hate that story. Can I tell the one about the wolf?” Bran chimed in. “Wolf?” Patrick asked as Brinna looked out the window and saw another animal running alongside their vehicle. “Yeah, the one that eats the girl in the red hood.” “Mommy, I don’t like that story. It is scary.” Bree snuck at the rolling landscape and saw the scary animal with sharp teeth sneering at her, so she pretended to look forward and saw her parents exchange a look.

It was a total nightmare for my OCD. Gritting my teeth, I ripped out all his stitches. "This is crazy! You got my clean sheets filthy! How am I supposed to sleep tonight?" Once the threads were removed, he rapidly disassembled. Talk about a flat-pack husband! Ignoring his protests, I threw his disassembled body parts into the bathtub one by one to scrub them clean. Once they were spotless, I pieced them back together and stitched him back up using new yarn. Another comment floated across the screen: [Does she really not know this is a horror game? How can she talk about it so calmly?]

"Tell him whatever you think it is best 'cause I won't be showing up. If 'she is asleep' that comes to your mind, say it. Or 'she don't wanna come' it is fine by me, 'she doesn't want to see you' whichever way. I am not just coming." "Okay then." "Thank you as you do so," I plugged my earpiece, then laid back on bed. "Goodnight." **** (No! Whimpering! Darkness! Fire! Tears!) Noo! Not again! I pressed my back against the wall, folded up a leg, then I dug my finger into my hair. This is beyond me mum, dad! I can't handle this all alone. What is the secret behind this nightmare? *** The shadow was moving closer. It was following me all over again. This couldn't be Brad. That was not Brad. So wh