Creepy Storys Novels & Stories

Rowan left before Iris could see him. Iris sat up and looked around. The air stank of blood and the bank was carpeted with dead bodies. Iris felt nauseous and and finally threw up. "Tell me I was dreaming" She looked at her best friend who looked at Japh. Japh shook his head. "You were…he was…" Iris pointed and touched her forehead. "Breathe" "Werewolves don't exist, right?" She suddenly stood up. "Because there's no way I just saw you change into a...oh no!"

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.

The air in the library was thick with the scent of old books and the faint hum of fluorescent lights. Sadile Marconi, her fiery red hair cascading over her shoulders like a river of flames, sat at a secluded table, her green eyes darting between the pages of her textbook and the clock on the wall. The numbers seemed to mock her, ticking away the minutes until her next class, a class she was dangerously close to failing.

Her words still made no sense, leaving me even more confused, “Turning him— Then it hit me. I heard the story once, of a beast who terrorized villages, towns, forests, during the full moon. A foul creature from the deepest pits of hell, with seven heads and no tail. A hybrid out of control. A rabid primate who bites the head off any being in sight, even without mercy. Goosebumps, they appeared all over my skin. I shuddered with fear, my toes curling as a sudden chill went down my spine. It was all staring to dawn on me, why he claimed this night was so special to him.

And I didn’t expect her to fucking torture me with that image. I want to lose myself in her right now, but I also want to see that gleam in her eye when she learns something new. I take a deep breath. I promised myself a real shot with her, so ghost stories it is. But damn, it’s gonna be one hell of a long night. “Can you die from blue balls?” Hendrix mocks. “Ready to explore the supernatural tales of Waterloo?” She asks, biting her lip, her voice filled with excitement. “I’ve grown up around these legends, remember?” I say, still trying to pull myself together.

A mad laughter that echoed in every corner. Megha screamed. The upside-down man detached himself from the wall— Dropped to the floor. No sound of breaking bones. He rose slowly. Neck twisted sideways. Fingers long. Unnaturally long. Not human. He moved toward us. We pulled at the door. The lock wasn’t outside. It was inside. Placed by something unseen. Scratches deepened. As if hundreds of hands were clawing the walls. He came closer. Fingers trembling in the air, reaching for our faces—

It’s a good thing that we came prepared. “This place is creepy.” Kai drug out the word creepy. I have to agree with him. Neither of us got any rest last night. We kept hearing strange sounds. Moaning and screams from things we have never experienced before. We saw a faceless spirit looking thing last night. I believe they are called a Hupia, although I can’t be certain that’s what it really was. It didn’t bother us, but this place seems to be filled with them. Something else that we have come across is a Morko. It is an elemental Ooze type creature. They are freaky as hell but the only way they could hurt you is to love you to death. We have also crossed paths with a few dangerous creatures,

Before there were doors between worlds, there were stories. They whispered from hearth to hearth and ship to ship— of wolves that ran like midnight wind, of foxes with nine tails and nine more tricks beyond that, of fae who looked like carved moonlight and smiled like knives. Humans loved those stories—as long as they stayed in books and bedtime. The moment a story breathed, the moment a pair of eyes glinted from a tree line or a shadow stepped out of the corner of a room, humans did what humans do best when they’re afraid.

Instead, I crept closer, my feet silent on the tile, and pressed my ear to the stall door. “Yes—right there—fuck—” The woman’s voice cracked on a broken whimper. Well, damn. I wasn’t the only one desperate for release today. A breathless laugh nearly escaped me. Maybe the rumors about this place were true: a playground for restless, overworked souls who solved their tension in creative ways. I shook my head, half-amused, half-jealous. My fingers twitched at my sides. For one wild second, I imagined knocking and whispering, ‘Room for one more?’ But that was insane. Right?

“There’ve been whispers. Nothing solid. Just… rumors. There was one I’d heard about a grave.” My brow arched. “A grave?” “Yes. An empty one. They said two corpses lay on either side, drained dry. Whoever stumbled on it swore it was linked to Dracula himself.” I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. “Dracula? Really? That’s the story floating around? Most of those tales are campfire trash meant to spook kids.” Her frown deepened, though a flicker of curiosity lingered in her gaze. “Maybe. I’ve never seen a vampire myself. Tell me the truth are they trying to spark another war?”