Novel & Cerita Creepy Storys

“IT’S JUST I HAD a different book in mind when ink spilled on this one, plus what’s left to do in a finished book?” They, of course, ignored me Completely probably deciding if I would not explain, they were just going to proceed. One of the three waved their hand above the inky darkness we were standing on, and instantly a book on a pedestal was in front of them on the floor. It showed off my title, ‘1001 Dark Tales’. I instantly held my breath, hoping they didn’t realize what that meant. But if they had, they said nothing. Instead, they just started flipping through the pages of the book, looking for which store to choose.

He chuckled, leaning down, close to my ear. “ You have been thinking about me. My touch, my tongue…. My cock” he voice was so low, it sent chills down my spine. I swallowed hard. “ You should be afraid of me, I broke into your house even the security crawling everywhere. Yet you still want me” he said tauntingly and he was right. ‘ I am” Another lie

His rolled up sleeves reveal the thick veins in his forearms, and the scent of him, that woodsmoke and sharp musk, seems to drift across the rows of desks, clogging my lungs. "Most writers fail because they are afraid to feel," Professor Tyler begins, his eyes snapping back to mine for a split second before moving on. "They describe a scene like a blueprint. But a story is not a blueprint. It is an experience. If you want your reader to bleed, you have to describe the coldness of the blade. If you want them to burn, you have to make them feel the heat of the skin."

Story Note: “Room for One More” is a standalone short from my erotic collectiona mix of intense, sensual, and sometimes forbidden stories that explore the raw edges of desire. Each story introduces new characters, new fantasies, and unapologetically explicit encounters. This particular tale features a taboo dynamic between step-siblings, told with heat, dominance, and no holding back. Reader discretion is advised. *************************************************

I gulped hard as I peddled my way to the creek, greeting some of the townsfolk on the way when I got stopped by Mrs Maisel, another fanatic of the supernatural. “I heard you’ve been hanging around Monsoon Creek Rory,” She said whilst trying to crack a nut with her fingers, the woman was a nutcase, “You better be careful. Werewolves and Vampires are looking to prey on a beautiful soft lass as yourself.” I rolled my eyes in disbelief, “Wolves, Vampires and whatnot don’t exist Mrs Maisel. I’m pretty sure it’s just a cooked up story by some story tellers from your—

“Then maybe that’s your answer.” Later that night, Ryan stood by his window. The streetlights blurred in the distance. His inbox pinged again a reply from L. Tansey, offering a call. He didn’t answer yet. Instead, he opened a blank page. And he typed: “A Story That Doesn’t Belong To You” by Ryan Calloway He stared at the title for a long moment. Then under it, he wrote: “This isn’t a story about revenge. It’s about reclaiming.” Two weeks later.

Juliette had heard these horror stories from the previous receptionist. As she got closer to the door, she heard a thud as if he had thrown his shoe at the wall. He threw things, but most often his shoes, she’d learned. She bit her lip at the thought that at least it wasn’t an employee’s head. In the brief silence that followed the thud, she slowly opened the door to his office. He was still on the phone and beckoned her to enter. She shut the door behind her and began to lay out the lunch that she had brought on the long table mostly covered in papers by his desk.

hskk. “What is that sound?..” the surroundings were quiet, but I could hear a sound as if something was cracking 3:00 am At exactly 3 am, a strange black shadow suddenly appeared in the corner of her room! “Who are you? What are you doing here in my GF’s room !?” the shape of the shadow slowly formed and gave the appearance of a large hairy man. “A Kapre!!” (Kapre is a Filipino horror myth that appears like a person with a hairy body and a face of an ancient people)

“The World of the Unknown. A book to die for.” My mother used to tell me stories of Vampires, Werewolves, Demons, the Orramoths, and the worst of them all, the Darklings. Most of the creatures she told me they blew out of proportion. She said writers did this to make a dollar or two, and some did it to scare the shit out of their kids and make them listen. My aunt would laugh because she said that I was a different breed than most. The minute I heard about them, I buried my head deeper into books with excitement. Little did she know I also discovered Daddy’s old box in the attic, and ‘The World of the Unknown’ was in it.

Suddenly, Adrian realized that these individuals indeed harbored ulterior motives. Adrian expanded his awareness, and the sight before him left him speechless. The entire hall was now teeming with an array of ghosts and monsters. Among them were towering old men with only one eye, lanterns swaying on a single leg, malformed boys with just one limb each, women clad in white exuding a bone-chilling aura, and skeletal figures draped in human skin...