Cerita Horor Pendek Seram Novels & Stories

In 1983 a Mrs Carson of New York was laid out in our coffin, presumed dead of hear disease. As mourners watched, she suddenly sat up, alive as you or I. Unfortunately her daughter dropped dead of fright on the spot. I don't own any of this stories. I found them in some creepy books. I'm thinking of writing my own scary stories, but not anytime soon. You can send me your short stories for a feature if you feel like it. Thanks for reading. Enjoy!I don't own any of this stories. I found them in some creepy books. I'm thinking of writing my own scary stories, but not anytime soon.

Sera's pov. It all starts with a dare. Margo and I are currently walking down the road when she points towards the old house on Ashton Hill. “I bet you a hundred dollars that you can't go inside,” she laughs. I turn my eyes to the house. There have been myths surrounding it and although I don't particularly believe in myths, I have always been curious to check out if it was true or not. “Whatever,” I shrug and start walking towards the gate. Margo panics and calls me back, shouting that she was joking about the bet but I was far gone in my mind. Before I know it, I’m already climbing over the rusted gate.

“I can see you a lot better this way. So, why can’t you sleep?” I positioned my phone on the stand near my lamp, holding myself on my side. “I hate storms like this. Always have.” Just as I said that, a crack of lightning shot blue across my window, making me squeal. “Sorry. Storms make me jumpy. I’m not used to being alone like this during one.” “I’m sure. You can talk to me for as long as you’d like. I’m just up preparing for a case.” “Oh? Well, get some rest. I won’t disturb you.”

”But I didn’t think much of it. I walked into the house and climbed the stairs. As I moved down the hallway toward our bedroom, I noticed clothes scattered across the floor. Then I heard moaning sounds coming from our bedroom. My steps slowed, the moan became louder with each steps I took, my heart began to pound as I walked closer. When I reached the door, I froze, Mark was inside… dressed in a Jessica Rabbit costume. He was sitting on a guys dick while the other sucked his cock. My breath caught in my throat, I grabbed the door handle to steady myself. My bag slipped from my hand and hit the floor, with a loud thud making all three of them turn toward me.

He hovered above me, his eyes glowing gold with lust. Thunder erupted outside, clashing with the storm of lust brewing in those eyes. I tried to sit up, to slide back, but it made me rub my legs instead as he was so close. Rubbing my legs made my cum drip out of my cunt. I took my head backwards, moaning softly as I bit my lips shamelessly.

With a choir, singing in her living room! “Beth,”Emma said ever so sweetly,“honey,are you totally sure you weren't having a dream?You must realize how this sounds!All this talk of caskets and corn children giving you ominous warnings….did you watch a horror movie before bed?You know how those upset you.” Beth composed herself as best she could.”No, I didn't watch a horror movie Em.I came downstairs thinking I’d left the telly on and there in my living room was a casket with me in it!And a choir of children.”

She found it funny to tell me horror stories before bed. I remembered once returning the favor. I told her about Terry the ghost, a boy who’d died in an accident on the street across from our house. Terry’s ghost wandered our neighbor’s house where his family had once lived. Mom hadn’t slept alone for weeks after that, and she never told me another horror story. My mom was like me in some ways—she was terrified of the paranormal, or anything religious. That’s why her engagement to Bill had been such a shock. But even Mom had gotten braver, so why couldn’t I?

The air in the library was thick with the scent of old books and the faint hum of fluorescent lights. Sadile Marconi, her fiery red hair cascading over her shoulders like a river of flames, sat at a secluded table, her green eyes darting between the pages of her textbook and the clock on the wall. The numbers seemed to mock her, ticking away the minutes until her next class, a class she was dangerously close to failing.

Until now, strange short stories had only very short stories. But from volume two I intend to add stories that have 10 to 20 captains as well. These stories are not so long nor have so much visibility as a separated book. For this reason, I decided to move all then into strange short stories, that is already a storybook of different themes.

Epilogue: Now that I have written several of these stories, I find that my old ghosts have started to haunt my dreams yet again. It is amazing that once things are written down, they begin to take on a life of their own. Just remember, if you don’t want things to go bump in the night, don’t tell anyone else about them.