Creepy Writing Prompts Novels & Stories

In dedication to Born By Power is a series of poem fixed within chapters of the book. The first was relating to Chaos And Apocalypse, which pretty much revealed a lot about the uprise of hell. This is the second and is themed on the horrific nature of Halloween and written with relativeness to hell. What does this hold to unviel? Who knows. Screams of Halloween Halloween, Halloween, Soft screams of blood chime, The period of dark, The day of ghouls, demons and imps,

Despite my concealed position, it feels like he's following my every move with his intense gaze, a chilling awareness that sends shivers down my spine. My hand suddenly brushes against something on the floor—an old trapdoor! I slowly ease the door open before descending into the cramped crawl space, closing it quietly. The space is dimly lit with dust particles floating in the air. I hold my breath to keep from coughing or sneezing, crawling silently on hands and knees through the confined passage.

The alarm starts, and I watch as everyone grabs their pens and starts writing, the sound of pens scribbling on paper taking over my mind. I feel scared, staring ahead of me. My body is shaking, and the sound of pen on paper is getting louder and louder. I am ready to run out of this room. Why am I so scared? What am I so scared of? Get a grip, Alena! I pick up the pen and start reading the first question. Finally, I’m writing and answering questions, but now I have last night in my mind, replaying over and over my sex pulsing.

It was at this time that whispers of some satanic influence within the place Abednego took hold as never before. The creatures have a craven temptress whose true ambition had been to reach out from beyond the grave to consume the souls of the living. The creatures have frightful appearance. They are wisp of creatures, pale as sleet, with a piercing gaze. A bednego set of that very night to where the creatures are believed to be hunting, the place is filed with human limbs and heads. The weather was passable when he left, with low winds coming from the east, a crisp but not terribly unpleasant night.

Nodding my head a bit, I fluttered open my eyes and took further steps. Diary writing is no less than a meditation for me to which I look forward to every night. Even now that's all I want to do. Just reach back home and write all these feelings in there. It's like I write a part of my heart in there and then just close it forever for no one to ever know about it. Sighing, It's a dark and cold night. As I took steps ahead, the creepy sense of being watched by someone suddenly fogged my mind.

It’s a silence with dread, a prelude to an impending peril. I inadvertently turn my gaze to the direction of the balcony. Through the curtains, three dark, hulking figures lurk, their eyes gleaming with a malevolent hunger. “No!” I yell. At the exact moment my word explodes out of my trembling lips, the balcony doors swing open with a violent gust of wind, and a chilling breeze sweeps through the living area. I watch in horrified disbelief as three monstrous figures emerge from the shadows, their eyes aglow with death. These are no ordinary intruders. They are werewolves, their hulking forms silhouetted against the moonlit night. The wolves advance with a predatory grace, their muscles rippl

An unimpressive number had racked up in the brief morning hour since she left the parking lot. She tapped her memo app and scrolled through her half-constructed blog post ideas: the tragic devolution of vampires in the horror genre; the best and the worst of the found footage horror explosion; the best indie horror out of this year’s film festival circuit; scream queens to watch, the new horror badasses and final girls. She tapped her nail on the edge of her phone case as she formulated the sentences in her mind. Then the phone vibrated against her palm. Brady: And the likes keep coming!

They went into the dark, red-lighted room, filled with different stench as they strode in quietly and carefully, looking at the creepy scriptures. Suddenly, something horrific jumped out of nowhere with a funny, weird, and creepy sound, startling both of them as they both screamed. They ran out of the section only to be attacked by a group of half-headed, mutilated bodies and bloody-looking creatures. They screamed in fright, kicking them away as they ran through the creepy building that never seemed to end, coming across everything that could give them goosebumps and make their heart nearly jump out of their chests. By the time they were out of the building, they were both panting heavily,

Eva tried to write three times before noon. Each attempt ended the same way: the cursor blinking like a taunt, her fingers stiff on the keys, and her mind snapping back to the cold concrete room with the buzzing light. She would start a sentence—something clean and factual, the way she always wrote—and then her brain would serve her an image she didn’t ask for: rope tightening, a door slamming, the leader’s calm eyes, the taste of blood at the corner of her mouth.

I recited the incantation out loud, my voice steady but laced with sarcasm. "Krampus, devourer of the wicked, I summon you. Come and claim what is rightfully yours." The candles flickered weakly. Nothing happened at first. I rolled my eyes, thinking what a waste of time this was. I was about to snuff out the flames and just rub one out to some p**n when the room suddenly grew freezing cold. Frost spread across the glass panes like living veins, and the overhead lights buzzed before going out completely, leaving only the eerie blue glow from the candles.