Creepy Minecraft Stories Novels & Stories

"Was it him again? The Lion King?" I let out a long, frustrated groan, leaning my head against the cool glass. "Every night, Bridge. The eyes, the tattoo... he was touching me in places I didn't even know I had. I woke up so wet I had to change the sheets. It’s getting ridiculous."

I knew there were old mining tunnels somewhere in these hills; the local legends were full of stories about miners who got lost here. We scrambled through, as the sounds of the battle began behind us. I heard the sounds of snarls, the wet thud of bodies hitting the ground, and the sharp, unnatural crack of the Elders' magic hitting the trees. Zack was holding them off. One wolf against an army of ghosts. "Is Daddy going to die?" Cindy sobbed as we reached a small cliff.

Frustration bubbled inside me as I clicked link after link, searching for anything that felt real. Then I found it. An article buried deep in an obscure forum, titled “The Forgotten Threat: Nightwalkers Among Us.” “Guys,” I said, my voice trembling slightly. “I think I found something.” They crowded around me as I scrolled through the page. It described creatures that thrived in darkness, their eyes pitch black, their presence marked by death and destruction. The details were sparse, but the fear in the writer’s words was palpable. “This has to be fake,” Zane said, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced.

But now, I was sure of one thing: Whatever they were scared of— It had begun. By the fourth day of our trip, the magic of the storytelling had begun to fade. I no longer cared about the details of humans turning to animals or running as fast as the wind. Each day, my responses became shorter, and sometimes I even found myself mouthing the words along, because I'd already memorized them all. So it wasn't a surprise when her misty eyes met mine on the seventh day. "Today, Ava, I'm going to tell you something different. It's about hybrids. The powerful ones formed from the combination of two or more supernaturals."

he said. “And please tell me if this one’s true. Did you battle ghouls in a haunted manor in England? Everyone’s always telling that story, but I have to hear it from the horse’s mouth. Well, wolf’s mouth in this case,” I said. My fear had long since ditched me. In its place, excitement was making me embarrass myself in front of Alice’s dad, the revered mythical wolf. “I was just shacking up in the manor. I didn’t know it was haunted. The ghouls came and tried to kill me. Let’s just say I don’t take kindly to being attacked while I’m sleeping,” Briar said.

Lydia's tone dropped almost to a whisper, Eden almost had to strain her ears to catch exactly what she was saying, fear caressing her words "It isn't just mountaineering accidents and bumps and broken bones like a usual hiking trail. There are... stories. People have been vanishing, without a trace for years in that place. Only a few have come back, and they're, well they're different, not the same people they were when they went.. The things people have said they've experienced there, Shadows of people hiding behind the trees, watching them.... Voices calling to them in the night and footsteps around their campsite. It's not a place you should be, certainly not alone" Eden almost snorted, s

I explained as I experienced a little bit of of embarrassment. "It was not your fault." Marcus replied kindly. "Life made you forgot about the stories." "What stories?" Elvira asked. Memories swayed me to speak. No matter how much I hated Elvira. I could not deprive her of stories. Everyone had a right to tell their stories. "Stories of another place, of another world, another dimension. A place that mirrors our world." I said. We got the crypt where he showered us in. I was expecting to see old bricked up walls, lanterns and candles with scrolls.

THE END? Not quite . . . Have you tried Beatrice Beecham’s Cryptic Crypt: A Supernatural Adventure/Mystery Novel by Dave Jeffery? We included an excerpt from the book if you keep paging. Or dive into more Tales from the Darkest Depths: Novels: The Mourner’s Cradle: A Widow’s Journey by Tommy B. Smith House of Sighs (with sequel novella) by Aaron Dries Beyond Night by Eric S. Brown and Steven L. Shrewsbury

The tall trees that barely sway in the spring wind, the quiet chirps and whistles of birds and squirads, the sweet, fresh smell of nature. Cyran and I used to come here when we were little. Just the edge of the woods, though. The older kids poisoned our minds with tales of spindars and giant lizards, the mad croc-genns and shadow walkers. Granted, they were not wrong. But those creatures live on the other side of Quindar, in the forsaken Leftydes. I just wish I had known that years earlier, before the times Cyran and I would bolt from the place at the slightest uncanny sound.

My ass ached in a way that felt earned. "Thank you," I told him. Jones was already tucking himself back into his pants and fixing his belt. He looked at me the way a man looks at a problem he has already solved but still doesn't fully trust. I opened my palm. A single pearl sat in the centre of it. Pale. Smooth. It caught what little light the corridor offered and held it. "Take this." "What is it?" he asked, curious. "Um… You see, when I… fuck a human, I drain them. At least half of whatever life they have left. I don't choose it. It happens under the skin whether I want it or not. It's part of the curse I carry."