Disturbing Horror Novels Novels & Stories

No wonder some people get addicted to it. The memory of what happened last night makes me shudder, and I try not to think of those men's threats. Now I just want to enjoy being alone for the first time in a while, so I go down to the library and search for something to read. There's an entire shelf dedicated to novels about vampires, which is amusing to find inside a vampire's library, so I pick one called Carmilla and settle down in an armchair. I'm ten pages into it when the door opens abruptly.

But right now I am reading a spectacular book called ‘Unwanted mafia king’ it's very interesting, and I highly recommend it. Flipping onto the next page, I heard a knock on the door. Oh lord! Who is that annoying person that wants to disturb me right now? I absolutely hate it when I’m reading a novel and someone comes to distract me- like hello- I am busy. If it’s possible I would just hide behind the moon and read as many books as I want without any distractions. There goes the knock again and I took a sip of my coffee and gently kept it on the table not wanting to

“No doubt.” “What about those two small FedEx boxes?” “Most recent novels from Samhain Horror.” “Awesome. Those books I bought at the Webb County Library sale last week?” “Sorted into general and mystery fiction. Struck the mother lode with all those Mary Higgins Clark novels.” “We cater to all tastes, miss. Unless you like Twilight, 50 Shades of Gray or James Patterson. Folks want drivel, they can drive to Utica.” “Hey. I actually liked Twilight. It wasn’t all bad.”

The air suddenly turned cold. It felt as if someone’s presence had increased in the room. Then— Tap… tap… tap… Footsteps came from the third floor. Slow… heavy… and terrifying. Anusha was reading a book at that time. At first, she thought— “Maybe the caretaker is upstairs.” But the caretaker’s footsteps were always slow and dragging. These were different. These sounded like the steps of a young man. But there was nobody living upstairs. The footsteps stopped. And then—

And then— The overhead lights flickered. A sharp, electric buzz filled the room. I turned— And caught a glimpse of the mirror on the far wall. For a moment, my reflection stared back. Wide eyes. A hollow face. Then— It smiled. Not my smile. His. A whisper slithered through the air. "You thought you won?" The lights went out. And the nightmare— Began again. EPILOGUE LENA The room smelled of something wrong. Not antiseptic, not the crisp bite of the hospital air—something deeper.