Best Horror Fiction Books Novelas e Histórias

I was able to shout at them my teeth gritting together with the cold. The girl, Cassidy or whoever she was, moved towards my two servants Ana and Marissa, she stood over them as she motioned her hand to them as if she was choking them and I see them in pain coughing hard again and again their face turning blue as blood flowed out of their mouths. I was terrified. I can feel my heart beating so fast, I'm in a panic. I have to snap out of whatever spell or voodoo this is. Hannah? I told myself this cannot be. I must be dreaming. I closed my eyes trying to calm down while telling myself that this is not true this is just a dream. I breathe in and out. It suddenly felt very quiet. I can feel my

After resting for a while, they walked around and saw a bookstore which they both agreed to enter. She was reading the back of Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen when Jacob asked her. “What do you say let’s read horror books? Like the ones we watched today?” “Eh? I’m scared. You go read first, then give me a summary, then I’ll decide. Haha!” “Roger!” as he picked The Dunwich Horror and Others by H.P. Lovecraft and IT by Stephen King. They finished book shopping, it was around three in the afternoon when Jacob invited her to go somewhere else.

Now imagine what you can do to me if I dare argue with you. ‘You know I will never hurt you Billy, I love you.’ ‘Bye Petunia.’ With that, he left. I knew that not only will loneliness and darkness will be my refuge that night, but I was going to be haunted by all of my sins. I lived every day, haunted by the look Naledi gave me before she died, now all I could see was Anna’s wriggling feet, my strong grip on her mouth and the cold eyes I regained consciousness to. The way Billy looked at me didn’t sit well with me. He looked at me with disgust but mostly fear. The guy that I thought to be my everything, feared me. I was a monster like Anna had said. Why else would the person who sent me to k

I asked her curiously as I sat comfortably on her couch and the three of them sat on the big one adjacent to mine. "Well, I believe that there's nothing to be scared of. The ghosts, vampires, witches, and werewolves are just in the books. Right? Fiction. Not real." My oblivious girlfriend explained, and that made the three of us, supermarket beings, look at each other. If you just knew, Pryce. None of us here is purely human. "Uh, yeah, yeah. They're just in the books. Horror books. They are a product of one's creative minds… and to scare people." Sander agreed with her best friend. Now, I really don't know how we will tell Pryce about the whole truth.

A branch in its endless, gnarled roots. And then, the darkness fractured. Light. It was a flicker, a sudden flash of brightness that felt like fire on his skin. Ben’s eyes snapped open, and he gasped, pulling in air that tasted like ash. His body jerked with the instinct to flee, but there was nowhere to run. He was still on the cold ground, but the forest was no longer just an empty abyss. It was a labyrinth, a twisted landscape of trees with faces carved into their trunks, eyes staring out at him, watching, waiting.

They were images of blackened houses, broken bodies, and trembling survivors murmuring in fear. “They said they saw… shadows with horns,” Eden whispered. “They said the shadows walked through fire and didn’t burn. They tore through flesh like paper. One old man said he saw a child disappear in the blink of an eye. There was no blood. No scream. Just… gone.” Sophia paled. Her fingers trembled as she reached into the folds of her robe and pulled out a tattered, leather-bound grimoire. She flipped the pages quickly. “I’ve read this before,” she muttered,. “Long ago. When I was a child. The signs… horned shadows, vanishing people, soulless fire. It’s not mortal.”

She opened it—pages parting easily now, as though the book recognized her exhaustion and offered no resistance. She flipped past the early chapters she had already memorized. Deeper. To the sections she had only skimmed before, too afraid to linger. *Control of the Undead* The script here was denser, colder. Diagrams of binding circles, sigils of domination, lists of names for the restless dead. Zombies—simple thralls of flesh, bound by will alone. Ghouls—carrion-eaters, drawn by hunger, controlled through offerings of meat and bone.

Like I was shopping for bedtime stories instead of trying to decide whether my life had cracked open into impossibility. “Thank you,” I murmured. The folklore section was tucked into a quiet corner near a window that looked out toward the forest. Of course it did. The books there were a strange little army: weathered hardcovers, thin local history pamphlets, glossy paperbacks with titles involving moons and curses and women who looked poorly dressed for weather. I started with the serious looking ones. Northern Appalachian Folk Beliefs, Predator Myths of the American East, Silver, Salt, and Blood: Ritual Materials in Regional Lore. I pulled them down one by one, making a stack against my che

I marched straight to the house where the Swans were staying and pounded on the door. They opened the door, annoyance written all over their faces. "Spit it out!" "Where's my handbook?" I questioned. "What does that have to do with us?" Afro and the others lived just next door, and they watched us with interest. It wasn't hard to guess that they had already joined forces. They wanted to see whether losing the handbook would be the trigger that would cause any monsters to appear and devour me. That way, they could figure out how to complete the final objective of defeating the final boss.

I place it on the table beside me and reach for the next. ‘Vampyres or Vampires? – An encyclopaedia of fact, fiction and food sources.’ The irony of the blood red lettering and dry humour of the title make me chuckle in spite of the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. I move to place the heavy book on top of it’s witchy companion and my fingers tingle as they brush something on the back. “What have we here?” yes, I talk to myself on occasion.