Best Halloween Books For Grownups Novels & Stories

“IT’S JUST I HAD a different book in mind when ink spilled on this one, plus what’s left to do in a finished book?” They, of course, ignored me Completely probably deciding if I would not explain, they were just going to proceed. One of the three waved their hand above the inky darkness we were standing on, and instantly a book on a pedestal was in front of them on the floor. It showed off my title, ‘1001 Dark Tales’. I instantly held my breath, hoping they didn’t realize what that meant. But if they had, they said nothing. Instead, they just started flipping through the pages of the book, looking for which store to choose.

We put out pumpkins and ghost decorations for Halloween, and cornucopias and turkeys for Thanksgiving, and in turn, they close their shops early and keep a quieter pace during the Somber Howl and stay up all night, telling stories of ancestors from long-ago during the Winter Solstice. “Then you can carry them to bed later.” I say with a chuckle as I put my head back down on my forearms that are still resting on my desk. Zella reaches over and begins running her fingers through my brown, curly, mess of hair. “So what happens next?” She asks. I know she’s both thinking about the safety of the pack and my own exhaustion level.

Rex said, lowering his head, the words Buckins used cut a little deeper than expected, he had started to become a little spoilt, throwing the royalty word around a bit lately to get his own way. “Very good, the shelves are that way” Buckins said, his mood lifting a little at Rex’s words, bouncing off with a quiet whistle to fetch the books he needed for Rex’s lesson. Huffing a little, Rex gripped his duster and made for the rows he was instructed to dust off, after ten minutes, the task had already become mind-numbing, so to make it easier for him to complete the task, Rex started looking at the book covers he was cleaning. Some titles seemed interesting to him, like ‘How to kill and skin a

Slowly, reverently, he pulled out an ancient tome, and placed it gently on the table next to the pumpkin. The library was deserted, but I still looked around warily as he showed me the book. The Hawthorn Central Library was split over two floors, and the only other person I’d seen so far was the librarian, sat by the door downstairs, a shrivelled old man wearing a spotty tie and a striped suit. He’d given us a rheumy-eyed smile and a little wave, his thin hand almost see-through in the musty light. His eyes had brushed over Skye, lugging around a huge pumpkin, but he hadn’t questioned it. I’d asked him politely if there was a section for folklore, or old myths, and he’d pointed me upstairs.

It was an image of Scarlet’s face. Caitlin felt her stomach roll with anguish. How had her daughter’s face come to be on this ancient text in a lost vampire library? Once again, she thought of destiny. It was as though everything had already been decided. No, it was more than that. If felt as though everything that was happening now had already happened before, as if they were living in a constant loop with history swirling round and round, repeating ad infinitum. The life she was living was just one cycle, one in which the outcome had been predicted before, but was not set in stone. She could change the premonitions and prophecies. Whatever was supposed to happen, she still had control over

Part One: Eyes of the Wolf Jamie Dalton lifted the grocery bag filled with Halloween candy and took a moment to inhale the aroma drifting from it. For most people Christmas was their favorite holiday but Jamie had always loved Halloween. From the time she was nine years old she made up fanciful stories about the night, stories of goblins and ghosts and all manner of creatures. As she got older the stories became more intricate, the characters more detailed. By the time she was an adult she was weaving in erotic scenes and drooling over the heroines she created.

Calderon has nodded excitedly, thrilled that Macey, the librarian, has left her seat to check on him, a simple invader. “Cool, I rarely see students marvel through that corner of this library. There are only a few and I could even count them using my ten fingers,” Macey has let out a bitter giggle. “I bet paranormal stories weren't the trend these days. People tend to be more realistic now. Nobody believes in ghosts and creatures aside from scared kids.” “I don't think so. Fantasy stories with vampires and werewolves as characters are gaining attention.” “Really?” “As what I've observed online.”

“Great. Just great. Meg loves shopping for odds and ends there, and maybe it’s evil. WONDERFUL.” “Well, perhaps not evil, just . . . ” I wave him off, massaging my aching temples with my other hand. “Yeah, yeah. I got it. Holy God, Gavin. Demons, evil houses and doctors, ghosts, redneck voodoo zombie witch doctors and monsters . . . what the hell else have we got in this town?” He tips his head at the book. “How about gods . . . ”

Their explanation of tantra was truthful, if a little oversimplified. I squeeze my eyes shut and rub my temples. I need coffee, and by now the kids might have something for me, so I head back down to Chinatown, taking a detour into The Magickal Childe bookshop on West 33rd on the way. Of the stack of books I’ve spent my morning with at the library, the one title I’m fascinated by is the infamous Tibetan Book of the Dead, and now I wanta copy I can mark up. The shop is a cramped little hole in the wall that reeks of voodoo oils and herbs. Ceremonial swords and shelves of dusty glass jars cover the walls. A leather-bound copy of the Necronomicon takes pride of place in the display window and a