Cerita Horor Real Story Novels & Stories

"Merely questioning your lack of taste. Besides, I don't want you wasting our time chasing some dimwit when we should be working." "I never chase. It's beneath me." Willow rolled her eyes again. "If we're done with the pointless information," she held the magazine up in her hand, "I found something absurd." Wes folded his arms and waited for her to continue. "There's an article that states the experience of a couple who stumbled upon an island. They said weird things started happening, like they started seeing skeletons everywhere, had hallucinations, and were hearing things. They saw their deepest innermost desires. The wife had a lover in her teens who died in the war.

It was late autumn when they arrived — the trees skeletal, the air thick with a kind of oppressive stillness that seemed to hum beneath the surface of the world. Emily Carter, a graduate student in folklore and urban legends, had heard the whispers about WildWood all her life. She had grown up just a few towns over and had spent years gathering the old stories: tales of the “vanishing patients,” the “howling trees,” and the “night doctors” said to stalk the forest paths. Determined to separate fact from myth, Emily organized an expedition for her thesis, enlisting a few brave companions:

The events which were cascading one after the other matched with the incidents she experienced a few days ago with the monster. Danger lurks you - the words of the fakir begin to ring in her head. On the other side her sanity questioned on why she was believing in the ignorant practices of the illiterate people in the village. She was a well educated girl, she and her boyfriend would get married and move out of the country very shortly. Amara could hear a distant music of the guitar. The song started pleasant but soon turned deathly deafening her ears with terror. Taking frightened steps she went to the window to close it.

What can you tell me about the Night Terrors? He rolled his thin, lined lips in, seemed to debate with himself. "Tol'ko skazki. Nichego solidnogo. Eto byla gruppa zhivotnykh, poyavivshikhsya posle GULAGa. Pod nimi nichego ne bylo. Yesli rasskazy pravdivy, to vam nuzhno derzhat'sya ot nikh podal'she." Only stories. Nothing solid. They were a group of animals that emerged after the gulags. Nothing was beneath them. If the stories are true, then you need to stay far away from them.

He insisted I crouch by the door to listen to their voices. "On October 6th was Xavier's birthday. I summoned the courage to tell him the truth, but he said he would only listen if I finished all the cream on the cake on the table. He knew I was allergic to cream and couldn't eat any." ... The notebook contained records of events from nearly four years. With every page I read, my body temperature dropped, and countless images flashed through my mind, like someone stabbing me with a knife, causing excruciating pain. It was him, the man I dreamed about, Xavier Quinn.

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.”

They started questioning me again. "Keya, I know that you're into those crazy ass fantasy horror movies and Stephen King books. But maybe you're letting your imagination get the better of you." "Yeah, that's just someone's imagination, gurl. Grow the fuck up!" "What do you mean, how do we feel about them? Like, do we believe in them?" I nod. "Like how would y'all feel if they were real?" I ask sincerely. I needed to know this. My favorite aunt Shenita asks me suspiciously yet seriously. "Do you think they are real?" I look her dead in her eyes and admit, "Yes. Because I've seen them." They all gasped. And I knew this was the time to tell them the truth.

They’d made the decision firm when they were in Jodhpur, searching for a vetal that would take over corpses and haunt the souls of the living, begging to pass on from this world to the next. I’d been fairly nonplussed when they’d told me that – the stories about Paris sounded much more pleasant – but I supposed it wasn’t as bad as their travels through the Philippines, tracking a particularly nasty manananggal who was leaving a trail of injured pregnant women behind, who would later give birth to children with grossly deformed faces. They’d told me in gruesome detail about how they’d found the detached bottom half of her body, and how it had dissolved when they’d covered it in salt and garli

I wouldn’t be surprised if the sofa tore. “They caught me,” she whispered, her gaze distant. “I was walking back to the dorm when suddenly they appeared and... and caught me.” Then, for the first time since she started telling her story, she blinked. “Before you accuse me, no, I wasn’t drunk or on drugs. I was sober enough to tell the difference between reality and fantasy. And I swear to God, what I saw was real!” Her voice rose before dropping to a fearful whisper. “There are werewolves around us, Corrine. These creatures aren’t just in books.”

“I thought you were being murdered or something. Has anything like this ever happened before?” I I swayed my head. "No, Never. I... I I think what It was just a dream, but it felt so…real.” "He was one horror nocturnal”, explained Laila. "They they can look really real. They are usually a sign that a person has experienced trauma.” They both looked at me expectantly, obviously expecting some sort of explanation. As if I would walk them through my traumatic past in the middle of the night. “I'm fine now, I promise,” I said instead. “Honestly, I'm more embarrassed than anything else. Serious, me I feel bad for to have awake you two. You guys should go back to sleep.”