Best Two Sentence Horror Stories Novels & Stories

He asked politely as he looked from me to Tasha for approval. “ Why not? The more, the merrier.” Tasha replied and Arnold stepped in to walk beside us, making me the middle man. “Alright so it's time for some midnight stories from dear Arnold, anything you have for us Arnold?” Tasha asked Arnold, who smiled. He was obviously pleased with her words. “Hm… I could share my experience killing the strange creatures that live here. Okay, what is your opinion of the scariest and strangest creature?” Arnold asked as he folded his arms.

I did the research. On my whole lower arm, these are my favorite monsters in fiction: Dracula, Frankenstein's Monster, the Hunchback of Notre Dame, and course, a zombie. If you can see more closely it's a picture of me—zombified. Aww, thanks so much, Zeke. It just sounds funny when you say 'sexy zombie.'

"No freaking way. I don't​ want to wet my pants. I watched it once and damn, I was so near to pissing myself. That creature, oh my God, that thing in that movie gives me nightmares." "Then..." I trailed off as I rummaged through the box, "Ah! My favourite, The Conjuring?" "No way!" "Okay then. We'll watch The Conjuring Part Two!" I said enthusiastically as I looked up at her. I loved horror movies. "I said no! I'm not going to watch that killer movie. Do you even know that almost thirteen people died watching that?! Do you want to die?!" "Claire, I won't die. I love horror movies. And you should stop acting like a child. Even children love horror movies but you-" I said, shaking my head at h

I remember when I was in the sorcerer's house in the night almost get carried away by the ghost in the night of Tortuga, I remember when I and my friends where having a nice and enjoyable Halloween Night party with our costumes before the arrival of the Black cults. I remember my parents and started crying...I started weeping but... couldn't weep out as there is no one to be of my aid here instead I would even get into more danger my giving a sound to show that am downstairs to anyone close to where is am. I feel lost, tired, weak as I haven't eaten for three days and the last thing I ate was a fruit, Apple I guess. As I was down depressed, weeping and thinking about my life, I hear a sound

A different wolf, equally menacing, emerged from the shadows, its eyes fixed on me with a hunger that made my skin crawl. Before I could react, it lunged, its powerful body pinning me to the ground. I could see its fangs, sharp and glistening in the moonlight, as it growled low in its throat. “Ahhh!” I screamed, struggling to break free. I didn’t want to be another victim, another story swallowed by the darkness. Just then, another wolf appeared, joining the first, its eyes glinting with malice. “I’m finished,” I whispered, my voice trembling as I closed my eyes, bracing for the end.

I was the girl who poured their drinks, cleaned up their crumbs, stood off to the side with my head low. But I listened. Every night, I listened. And my favorite stories—the ones that sent chills down my spine—were about the rogues. Greywin would say, “They don’t walk like us. They stalk. They don’t breathe like us. They sniff, they growl. And when you hear a branch break in the middle of the forest, child, don’t run… they already know where you are.” I remembered the way the girls would huddle closer, giggling but scared. But I wasn’t giggling. I was barely breathing. I always held my tray tighter and leaned closer to hear more.

“Now you’re almost grown, and almost grown means curious, which means dangerous.” I cross my arms. “I am grown!” I shout. She doesn’t hesitate. “There are bonehounds. Starving, half-dead things with skin stretched tight over broken skeletons. They smell blood and chase it for miles. There are whisperers, creatures that climb inside your head and convince you to walk off cliffs or drink poison. There’s a woman made of smoke who turns into a bird and pecks out eyes with her beak. A man with bark for skin who collects girls and grows them into his tree.”

“What are you waiting for? Do you need a bedtime story?” I chew back a smile. Settle against the headrest. “Why? Do you have any?” “Me?” “No— Weres. Us, I guess.” “Sure, but they’re bleak. Humans and Vampyres coming for us if we nip our teachers too hard. The gods of nature toying with their beastly children. Cosmic horror— that kind of shit.” “Wow. Do children like them?” “I didn’t. Had nightmares about them for years.” I nod slowly. “That explains it.”

It infuriated Cassy more—with the night that’s the homecoming of the ghosts and horrors. A wicked laugh itched to be out, instead, she scrutinized the height. The distance between her and the ground did not harrow her. It amazed her at how different she’s lurking around where the normal people might not even stare without a wave of nausea washing over them. An urge to smoke-filled her; she fetched a pack from the inside pocket of her dark blue jacket; ignited the flame, mumbling, “Every legendary story is a pent-up frustration of human beings to invoke fear in the minds of those whom they hate. Several against one or one against many.”

Fear. Then: "Impossible." Silence. Then: "The horror knows." Everyone froze. Then far beyond the prison— a terrible roar echoed through reality. The sleeping horror had awakened. And it was coming.