Cemetery Horror Novels & Stories

Under the blazing sun, the party walked for an entire half hour before arriving at the village square. "Is this a stone altar?" "Aren't altars par for the course when it comes to myths about the sea? What's there to be surprised about?" The party discussed amongst themselves carefully, before Afro exclaimed, "Wait, that altar isn't made of stones, it's made of human skulls! Wasn't this supposed to just be an A-ranked dungeon? How did so many people die here?" At the center of the square stood a massive watchtower built entirely from human bones.

"I'm done being afraid of Marcus Calloway." The cemetery was a sprawling garden of the dead on the city's northern edge, old oaks and marble angels and winding gravel paths that crunched beneath the Maybach's tires. The gates were locked at sunset, but Devon's security team had already contacted the groundskeeper, and a man in a heavy coat and a bewildered expression was waiting to let us through.

Henry replied. Back at the cemetery, the atmosphere was eerie and cold. The rain continued to fall, and a frail figure lay unconscious in front of a tombstone, a pool of red beneath her mixing with the darkness, creating a chilling sight. The woman's face was pale, devoid of any sign of life...

The cemetery was the best place because tombstones and dead bodies don’t talk, move and neither do they have the ability to inform the authorities. The Drifter froze after walking into the cemetery with the moonlight illuminating his muscular figure. He turned around and bolted the large gate with the German padlock hanging from its handle. When he was through, he turned around to face Ara who was 20metres away from him. The unfortunate driver that had driven him to Ara’s apartment before he blew the place was lying dead in the trunk of his cab 2kilometres away from the cemetery.

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.

The kind of premonition that she didn't know its source. And instead of him gripping her hand reassuringly the way he was doing now, she also found herself recoiling into his embrace. The creepy feeling was uncomfortable. And the premonition only kept increasing. Kendrick walked her deeper into the cemetery, he was silent all the way. They passed by several graves. Some were old, some were new, and Hailey brought her hands up and wrapped them around his arm. She rested her head on his shoulder, letting the security sip in. This place was freaking her out. Apart from their footsteps against the dried leaves, there were no signs of other people in the place. At least, not other living people.

the man said, “isn’t legal. Isn’t clean. And it sure as hell isn’t going back in the ground once we start.” Jaxon stepped closer, his voice carrying the weight of something beyond money. “Dig him up.” For a moment, the man studied him, as if measuring not just resolve but the exact temperature of his desperation. Finally, he nodded. “Dawn,” he said. “No later. Less chance of eyes.” *** The horizon was bruised with the first suggestion of morning light—thin streaks of silver bleeding upward from the east. The cemetery sat low in a shallow valley, rows of weather-eaten stones bending slightly toward the earth as if in silent worship.

Blair and I head to my old pack territory. It’s strange to be heading back there. I honestly thought when I left with Zane. I’d never be back. At first, that saddened me, but as I realized how shitty my life was with my pack, I was glad at the thought of never coming back. It figures Sage would lure me here. The old cemetery is considered haunted by the pack. Over the years, the stories grew crazier and wilder. I could never figure out why people thought it was haunted or cursed. Knowing the truth, the tales make sense. The cemetery's ground is indeed soaked in the blood of lycans and werewolves, the beginning of a curse that created not only one supernatural race but also a hybrid race. No

The first time it has happened, she had been terrified but her mother had told her that it was part of her gift. It had been difficult but Emma had gotten used to seeing dead people. Even the first werewolf she had killed sometimes showed up in front of her but she ignored him. "How much farther?" Steve muttered angrily. Emma could tell that he was nervous as he walked on. It was a natural reaction. The cemetery was a scary place. "There," Emma said as she pointed to a place that had overgrown with dead trees and grass. It looked eerie and unsettling as they neared it. Thirteen seven feet tall tombstones stood side by side in a semicircle covered by trees and overgrown shrubs. It was a sight

Evan squeezed harder, making Carmen cough. "Die!" "Do you really want me dead? Don't you want to know where Lyra's head is?" Carmen used the last of her strength to say this. Evan froze for a moment before slowly releasing his grip. After a while, Carmen got up and opened the fridge. There were two glass jars inside with my head and kidney both soaking in formaldehyde.