Creepy Poetry Novels & Stories

You shiver when you always think of, A werewolf in the night, They eat human flesh so yuck and sticky, But it’s just in your mind You might think there’s a creepy castle, Lost somewhere in time, You might think it has ghosts all around, But it’s just in your mind. Do you believe in vampires? , Those creatures with long white fangs, You might think they drink human blood, But it’s just in your mind. You might believe in witches, They laugh with a scary look, You might think they have black cats, Or a bat to cook for food. You can imagine all sorts of creepy things, That makes you shudder with fright, But please don’t yell mommy when you see them,

I break myself, With words, thoughts, From my own mind. Everything I ran away from, I became. Everything I tried not to be, Everything I walked away from, I see them now. Taunting me, laughing at me, For my darkness was my fault, No other's. So, when I love, it's living death. I walk alone in this path, I made darkness my creed, Formed depression, With hands of flawless poetry. I created my demons, Now I'm haunted by them. Everything I am,

Weary ye shall be, Seeking redemption Like a bat, Blind in the day, Never to walk the earth in the morn Or ye shall burn A living dead, Bloodsucking monster, Causing the heart of your beloved to bleed In the turmoils of Hades Never to return!~~ Poem written by Afeare Adesuwa ~~~~~~ "I'm sorry, master." Dracula shivered, rushing down to bow. "It's not what you think?"

The cover is worn and the leather is pealing off. I open it. Each page is all crinkled as if it's been used a lot. I look through the book. Poems? Each poem is so meaningful. Did she write this? INNER DEMONS: It's like a shadow in an eternal night It does not let you free it does not let you live in the light It takes you deeper into an endless tunnel It ensnares you with chains It pumps it's venom into your vains The darkness does not let it's prey go easily

Rowan’s erasure grids fold reality—white voids swallowing tendrils. Kayo’s chains bind massive limbs—foxfire burning restraints hot. Remy’s claws rend exposed joints—gold sparks flying. My **Abyssal Canticle** sings—voice carrying divine fury, shattering debuffs, swarm screaming real. Julian’s fangs drain main veins—vampire horde climbing body like ants on titan. Kōjin’s hammer projection slams divine—molten impacts cratering carapace. Monks’ light spears pierce eyes—blinding galaxies.

he whispered into the darkness, the words, once a sacred truth, now tasting like bitter ash on his tongue. She sighed in her sleep, a sound of perfect, unwavering contentment. Grey did not sleep. He lay rigidly beside her, staring at the cracked ceiling, watching the faint orange light from the streetlamps paint shifting, monstrous patterns overhead. The adrenaline and alcohol had long since faded, leaving behind a cold, clear, and utterly terrifying dread that seeped into his very marrow.

And in that fleeting second, the creature's malevolent grin widened. "Ah... you think closing one door will stop me?" It crooned, its voice oozing with malice. "The door that opens is far more dangerous than the one you closed." Evryn's blood ran cold as she watched the door begin to creak open, the darkness spilling from within like a flood of night itself. The air seemed to warp and distort, reality buckling under the weight of what was coming through. The presence that emerged from the door was more terrifying than anything Evryn had ever faced—a shadow that was not just a part of the creature, but a force of its own. This was no ordinary being; this was something ancient, something bound

Jarngrimr Crucible of Lips And I’ll worship at your altar, and choke on your lips, the crucible deadly of hips like an empire, breasts like Everest, so mighty and rounded with snow, our sexes are flush and questioning, our hands are seeking as you straddle my foolish heart, your hair lush like a river of nightmares, your eyes the color of swamps, and in red lipstick marks on the haunted house wall my demoness writes “You’re Mine,” drives home

A ghoulish creature of my own making. I'd wake up, breathing hard, tears streaming down my face. Whenever I'd blink, I'd see her. See this spidery monster in the dark corners of my room. I felt saturated all over, thinking it was her blood. A thick red ink encircling me in a sickly warmth. Flicked my light on only to see it wasn't blood at all. I'd be dripping with my own sweat. The creature in the corner was only a pile of unfolded laundry. I couldn't even wear her earrings, so they sat on my dresser. Untouched.

Her veil lies crumpled, golden circlet split in two. Her eyes are gone — not cleanly taken, but carved out in jagged circles, each cut trembling from mortal hands. Blood streaks down her cheeks in twin lines, like offerings the gods refused. The air tastes wrong. Copper and incense laced with something stranger — a slow thrum beneath my skin, like roots pressing up from the earth. I follow it to the far wall. Words, written in wet, uneven strokes, gleam in the dark: NYXARA HAS NO END