Creepy Woods Stories Novels & Stories

I stood at the edge of the forest, the sun dipping low behind the trees, casting long shadows across the ground. I had heard whispers of a beast that roamed these woods, and despite the warnings, I found myself drawn to the mystery. The air was cool and crisp, the scent of pine and earth filling my nostrils as I took a tentative step forward. The undergrowth crunched under my feet, the sound echoing through the quiet woods. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, a mix of fear and excitement coursing through my veins.

It was neither the waves of the enormous ocean that would seem to swallow them whole if they ever tried to leave. No. It was far worse than those combined. Deep within the trees lies something dark, cursed, and wicked. Fyn always remembers the tales that seemed to run around the town whenever nightfall reached them. Tales about why the forests always sounded like a woman had been screaming inside there all night long. There were also cautionary tales about what might happen if an individual who had no business walking there would stumble upon the entrance of Gashea's forest.

“I’m so glad about the progress you’re making.” Following a brief delay, I said, “Something strange happened last night.” “I'm all ears.” “I had a nightmare, the same as the last few days. Very peculiar. About that night in the woods. I killed a girl; it was my body that harmed her but I just didn’t feel like I was in it. When it was over, my eyes wouldn't open. I was awake. I tried to open them. But they didn't for a while.” While scribbling down on the paper she mumbled, “Fourth time this week. Right?”

They sang: “You speak to the woods, child. You speak to the dead. In a few months’ time you will die, too, and join us rank and file in a coffin of eggshell. In a few months’ time you will trade your witch-fire for a crown of corpses. In a few months’ time you will be so far gone from here, so changed beyond recognition, that your name will no longer belong to you. Tread carefully on the forest paths. Do not trust the woman you are closest too. We are the woods, and we warn you.” With that the wood wives curled up on the ground, rooted into the floor, and slept like stones. Anya rushed back to her room in the banya, stifling a scream. Morozko was fast asleep. In the morning she awoke

In 1983 a Mrs Carson of New York was laid out in our coffin, presumed dead of hear disease. As mourners watched, she suddenly sat up, alive as you or I. Unfortunately her daughter dropped dead of fright on the spot. I don't own any of this stories. I found them in some creepy books. I'm thinking of writing my own scary stories, but not anytime soon. You can send me your short stories for a feature if you feel like it. Thanks for reading. Enjoy!I don't own any of this stories. I found them in some creepy books. I'm thinking of writing my own scary stories, but not anytime soon.

He took us along a pathway which ended on the edge of a forest, turning around to grab Cassia’s unclaimed hand in his before we continued. The trees rose up high and dark above us, blocking out the sky. The hair on my arms rose up and a familiar shiver ran down my spine. I felt as if thousands of eyes were watching me from the darkness, but I was too scared to let go of Cassia’s hand to return to where we had come from. Instead, I put my faith in Dareios once again. “These are called the Nightmare woods. It’s technically part of the Darklands, but there’s a shortcut through it to the succubae village.” Dareios whispered, as if he could sense my fear and sought to calm me down.

Animals that had eyes and heads in unusual places crawled on the trees and underneath the ground, and they made sounds that sent chills down my spine. “This place is really uncomfortable to be in. The animals here aren't things I would like to see in a dream or a nightmare at all,” Marie said. “Well, it's a good thing we're still ghosts. Nothing can touch us; hence, we are completely safe from the creatures that wander in these woods,” I said, trying my best to ignore everything around me. Long vines and webs hung from the trees, and I could only imagine what kind of monstrous spider spun them. “We aren't even deep into the forest yet, and we're already seeing stuff like this. I hope this gh

Alvin, ever the joker, was making failed attempts at shadow puppets, but it was Nathan who commanded our attention. “Okay, are you guys ready for a real ghost story?” he said, grinning at the prospect of scaring the wits out of us. “Once upon a time…” With that wicked smile of his, Nathan launched into a tale so creepy that it had us both quaking. It was a story about evil spirits that haunted the very woods we were camping in. He described the ghosts in vivid detail—their hollow eyes, their twisted forms—and even mimicked the haunting sounds they supposedly made. By the end of it, Alvin and I were gripping our sleeping bags, our eyes darting nervously to the tree line beyond the campfire.

Why can't I seem to escape thoughts of her? The woods grow darker in the setting sun, but that is no problem for a wolf. For a human on the other hand, the woods are as dark as midnight in a moonless night. Though Crimson Hills remains one of the safest places for both werewolves and humans alike, the woods are often crawling with wild animals. A new scent wafts to my nostrils with the wind. Blood. Though faint, the smell is right there next to the combination that says Wilda to me. I need to find her fast.

It was odd, but ever since Sawyer had paid them a visit, he and his wife had been very sweet to me--almost fake and scared sweet. I didn’t ask why they were acting creepy. After all, I was benefiting from them not bothering me. Usually, they used to be on my back, annoying me and scolding me over one thing or the other. But that had changed recently. I slid into the passenger seat, and soon we were headed to the woods. It was already 4 pm, so nightfall was approaching. “Why did you insist on going after dark?” Theodore questioned, his eyes on the road. “Because I heard that’s when most of the strange things happen. It’s said to be pretty silent during the daytime,” I replied, opening the fil