Creepy Internet Stories Novels & Stories

by the time the sun shimmers at the horizon behind me and the crescent moon dips below the horizon before me, I have thought of every word I know of to describe really, really, really boring walking. There is absolutely nothing here. I think of the stories we told each other when we were pups. About wraiths that lived beneath the sand of the Barren that would pull you down into their nests. They would paralyze you and then their grubs would feed off you, slowly eating you alive. That was a favorite. There are the roaming packs of wilder-scorpions, creatures that are half beast, half scorpion. Where the beast's tail should be is a scorpion's sting that will cause your skin to turn black and t

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.

Someone swore their uncle owned a restaurant in Queens and said, “If you pay the right people, your truck is safe, your staff is safe, your customers are safe.” Someone else denied it. Someone else said it was propaganda. Someone else said cops and politicians ate from the same table. The internet, fundamentally, remained the internet. Then the more embarrassing side appeared. Fan-girl accounts. Gossip accounts. Glitter-avatar accounts. With lines like: never seen his face but his “energy” makes me faint people say when he walks into a room everyone goes silent “scary don but hot” people openly fantasizing about being the lover of a man who doesn’t even have a public photo

Eric entered the dining room with several books and papers. He dropped them down at the table where Greta ate and searched the internet while she could connect to it. The struggle to get onto the internet and stay connect was a nightmare. Now, with the uptick in paranormal activity, it wasn’t just spotty internet, but batteries draining at an unnaturally fast rate, and equipment powering down at random. One machine used to make spirit voices available for them to hear, appeared to become possessed by several spirits that all needed to talk at once. None were interested in taking turn or working with the others. It forced them to shut it down and keep it turned off from then on. Which was no

And I wanted to be punished: Perhaps that, more than anything else. I began reading erotic BDSM stories. For a while this seemed to be enough. It allowed me to escape my life, if only for short periods of time. Erotic BDSM stories were challenging to find in my small town and soon found myself searching sites on the internet. This opened up a whole new world: Before I knew it, I was placing ads on personals sites, trying to make my dream a reality. Initially the responses were just crude. Even the ones I decided to contact, seemed a little beyond what I was looking for: Cruel men, perhaps dangerous too. Finally I received a response from Tony.

It felt like the walls were closing in. Even though Alexander had fought tooth and nail to scrub the articles from mainstream media, it hadn’t mattered. The internet was a hydra, cut off one head and two more sprouted. Sketchy blogs. Half-baked gossip sites. Forums where faceless usernames typed their judgment as if I weren’t a real person. Drug addict. Mother unfit. Company doomed. I stopped reading the comments after the second day. But the words stuck anyway, replaying in my head until they bled into my dreams.

They loved the fantasy that I could be their sweet, secretly filthy neighbor. Drying off, I wrapped myself in a silk robe and settled onto the couch with my phone. Notifications poured in: new subscriber milestones, comments praising my latest scene, private messages from fans offering ridiculous sums for custom content. I answered a few, keeping my replies flirty but professional. Then I switched accounts, opening the carefully curated family-friendly I*******m where I posted sunsets, coffee art, and vague captions about “creative projects.” The two lives existed in parallel universes, and I was the only bridge between them.

“I love black holes.” I squirmed in my seat. “What are you doing?” I looked around. We were near the back of the planetarium with no one around them, but we were still in public. When I felt Kai’s hand slide inside my pants, his fingers finding my wet folds, I let out a hiss. I gripped the armrests as he slipped up and down my slit. “Kai, we shouldn’t do this. Not here.”

"Pure-bloods can. Vanishing into fog is a classic trick. It’s a cool power, but it pisses me off that they’re using it to frame me." Lea’s phone rang. It was Flo, and she sounded hysterical. "Are you bored? Why are you making the gossip worse?" Flo screamed the moment Lea picked up. "What gossip?" "The internet is exploding! 'Drex Ethan goes on a date while murder suspicions swirl!' It’s the top trending story!" "Give me that," Drex said, taking the phone. "Listen, Flo! Lea and I went on a date. So what? I’m not a murderer, and to hell with the rumors!"

🥹❤️🌙 First of all, I just want to say a HUGE thank you to every single person who has opened Dark Tales of Midnight: A Collection of Taboo Stories and decided to take this journey with me. Honestly, seeing people read my stories, leave comments, react to chapters, and come back for more means SO much to me. 🥺💕 Every single view, comment, vote, and bit of support reminds me that all the time I spend creating these stories is worth it. ✍️📖💗