Chupacabra Stories Novels & Stories

“Not to mention the shaving nightmare right after.” She actually shuttered! As if she couldn't imagine anything more appalling...! “Werewolves---!” I growled, but at the last second managed to stop myself. The creature she was describing was a Lupin, more commonly known as a Chupacabra; not a werewolf! And while they were closely related to werewolves, we had very little in common. Just like she said, once every full moon, they had to shift and find a heart to eat, but it could be the heart of ANYTHING! They’d only been caught attacking a human once and somehow the human had managed to blame us.

I found a tattered web-strap chaise lounge, positioned it in the shade, and fell onto it. The comic book was called “They Come Out at Night,” and its cover featured some kind of one-eyed bat-like creature swooping down on a scantily-clad woman. I dove in, reading the story about the monster called Popobawa that had been captured in Africa and shipped to the United States. The ship was wrecked in a storm off the coast of North Carolina, smashing the crate that held the beast. It flew to shore and terrorized a small town. I read the whole thing, cover to cover, only to have the story end on a cliffhanger. There must be more of these in the attic. The thought of going up there to find the next

"Werewolves." I looked at him with a blank expression, then burst into laughter. "Really? You expect me to believe that? Real funny. And my abuela has a chupacabra." When neither Mr. Black nor Kara laughed, I realized they weren't joking. "You're serious?" My eyes shifted between them. "They have been here for centuries," Kara clarified.

Aslan, despite his age at the time, was still reeling in young women eager for some kind of “experience.” But she had to admit, the mention of the manananggal earlier had sent chills down her spine. It reminded her of an old story she’d heard as a child. During gatherings and celebrations in the hacienda, the staff would tell tales about a woman who lived near the river, close to the waterfall. Supposedly, her body would split in half, sprouting wings, and she would hunt at night. It’s ridiculous. In her world of science and medicine, stories like that didn’t hold any weight. Still, it didn’t hurt to believe just a little—at least enough to make sure she didn’t end up as prey to some mananan

Anyway, he kept saying that there are horrible creatures that lurk in the darkness here… While growing up he told me the story of the time when he was ten years old, his dog ran out of his family home—this townhome, the home I’m just about my home until my dad gets out of jail and the social worker says I can go back. He goes on and says that he watched his dog die that night being eaten alive by a wolf-like humanoid that he himself barely made it back home to safety. Then there were these stories of the locals being blood-sucking vampires and all the BS surrounding that subject. Oh and the witches of the forest and the great lake—supposedly they lure pregnant women to their deaths and drown

Mexico is beautiful! The beaches are white, the ocean an amazing shade of blue, and the house we rented is to die for! I might have to persuade my brother to go in with me to buy it. It’d be nice to have a place to soak up some sun and relax. The downside is that there isn’t really anywhere to shift when you’re feeling like shit. I asked Rose about the shifter myths in Mexico, and, except the one about the chupacabra, she didn’t really know any. I still didn’t want to be mistaken for the goat eating cryptid, so shifting was out.

Kinsley sighed and shook her head with a frustrated frown. “No, I haven’t. Everything leads me to multiple kinds of creatures, spikes of a chupacabra, poison of a wraith, resilience of a ghoul. I can’t find one thing that fits all of those descriptions. It’s almost as if this creature is made up of multiple ones. Like some douchebag was playing Frankenstine with monster parts.” She plopped into her office chair with a frustrated growl and banged her head on the desk once, grunting as Weaver patted the back of her head.

Mathias watched her closely, his posture stiff and alert as he waited for her to speak. “A guy and his buddies travelled over to Mexico to observe some moon festival and later one was cursed and turned into a vampire who killed almost all the villagers while his two friends were turned into werewolves to stop their friend," Clara continued, her voice growing more animated with each passing word. "What's that his name again Er...Eric right?”

Hence, the Supernatural Spa. These are more of their stories that have chilled and thrilled many readers throughout the years. And now, they have been updated, translated, and made more pleasurable to read here. Hope you enjoy the next two stories about two lovable grandparents... +++++++++++ Story 1: Grandpa Hi, this is my first time telling a story here, so please be patient with me. This happened at my Lola’s house around five years ago, I think. And I remember that during those times, there seemed to be a special occasion that involved my Lolo in one way or another...

" She ended her story staring at me with hopeful eyes. What did she expect me to say “oh mom what a great story”. No way! I threw my hands a laughed a roaring dry laugh. I held my head to the ceiling and laughed until it became hysterical "You expect me to believe you kidnapped me from some creepy cult that raised me from the earth in a lightning storm?!" I asked incredulously. Was this woman is crazy! She basically said I was a freaking zombie! Or something. Okay so I may be a little judgmental considering I am a vampire but geez that story seemed as farfetched as they come.