Book Horror Stories Novels & Stories

It seems like the bones are cracking and the body give a ear-splitting screech which make Heather cover her ears to avoid a bleed and turn to the body shock to see the person is not dead. Heather get up on her feet and move back as the body begin to move his body like a zombie from movies. Scared out of her mind, Heather run back to her car and ignite the car reversing back and make an escape. Heather drive back home and get out of the car with her whole body trembling from the horror she has just witnessed. The door is not locked like she believe it will be so she make her way in and rush to the toilet before anyone could see the blood on her jeans.

He pauses before continuing with that slithering accent like something you would hear in a horror story or someplace in the darkest parts of Europe, “Have you ever wondered if the things that go bump in the night really exist? Or if they are a figment of your imagination?” Getting more creeped out by the second, I keep staring at him and then find that I can speak again. Before I utter an answer, I raise my hand up to my forehead and wipe a strand of my blonde hair out of my eyes so I can concentrate. “Sure, I have always been intrigued by the forces of darkness, but do they really exist as they do in my novels and dreams?”

“You came here for a story, and instead, you found a sexy werewolf soap opera. Good job.” I glanced down at the old book I’d found—the one filled with legends and dark tales of Blackthorn Ridge. It was still lying open on the table, the pages worn and yellowed with age. My eyes skimmed over the words, searching for something I might have missed, but the stories were all the same: packs of wolves, rituals, blood magic. All things that felt a little too close to what Lucian had warned me about.

"You're in luck. We have a section dedicated to folklore, myths, and legends. Follow me." She led them to a corner of the library, where bookshelves were adorned with titles that piqued their interest. Tiffany and Hailey eagerly began scanning the shelves, pulling out books and flipping through their pages in search of answers. Hours passed as they delved into the stories and accounts of supernatural beings, searching for any hints or connections to their own experiences. They came across tales of witches, vampires, and shape-shifters, but nothing that seemed directly related to their own situation. Just as their enthusiasm began to wane, Hailey stumbled upon an old leather-bound book tucked

I don't even have his number! "Hello? Who's there?" I whispered. It was like a horror movie. The girl in the forest screaming and running for her dear life. Maybe it is Jordan. He is a douchebag but can he pull such a stunt just to scare me? One thing I learned from the horror movies I watch is never to scream and run so I backed away and tried to be in the shade because the moon was up and bright. I don't want to be spotted or watched by who may or may not be my predator.

He was lying near the fire pit. I thought he was sleeping at first. Then I noticed the way his arm was bent. Too stiff. I walked closer without meaning to. His eyes were open. They were staring at the sky. There was dark red on his shirt. I didn’t understand it immediately. Then my stomach flipped. Dead. He was dead. I stepped back quickly and my heel hit something. I almost fell. My scream came out before I could stop it. It was loud. It sounded like it belonged to someone else.

The next second, the Patchwork Monster tore the man in half. He tossed the body outside casually. Just then, a crisp, bell-like voice sounded outside. “It’s after work hours, who’s so rude as to be throwing bodies around?” A young girl with three heads and eight arms appeared at the doorway. With just one look at the shop, anger filled her voice, and her hair stood on end. “Who the hell had a death wish and smashed the Number One Must-Eat shop in the entire horror game?”

The building was still as cold as they remembered. The corridors were silent to death. Dim lights add to the chillness of the walls. A certain odour lingered in the dark holes in the walls. It was a castle. But it seemed like nobody lived in it. A faint hint of blood entered Max's nostrils and he held his breath. It burnt his inside.

After I was done peeling the apple, I munched on it and began chatting with her, seemingly nonchalantly, like I was just talking about the weather, while telling her everything that had happened in my past life. Lacey's eyes were first filled with terror, then confusion, then shock. When I was done with my story, Lacey said with much difficulty, "Impossible… You couldn't have had a past life… That's all bullshit! "I'd never have killed you… I'd never… You shouldn't believe it… You're making a stupid mistake!" I threw the apple core into the trash can and wiped my hands clean. "Don't be stupid. Why would I ever kill you? Your boyfriend will do the job instead.

“What else have you heard?” Too much. Too much poison dressed up as bedtime stories. Garrett Monroe—my father, the only family I had left—used to slur those horror tales into my ears whenever he was drunk. Stories about sharp-toothed beasts who dragged children from their beds and devoured them whole. Creatures who wore human skin by day but hunted by moonlight. At the time, I thought he was warning me. Trying to protect me in his own twisted, broken way. But now? Now I don’t know.