Dreamcore Scary Novels & Stories

I screamed out as fear cloud the whole me, shadows trios speaking strange tongues came out the cave as they encircle at me, a scary monsters followed behind screamed at me, I screamed out my lungs "Hey babe, get the hell up?" I heard her as it did come from a distance miles I jolted up, as my spine shiver, my heart pound my chest, Steph held close at me she did caress my hair, I did feels scared about my dream, the wall clock signal 5pm. "Shh, you should be scared about nothing babes, calm your nerves" Steph whispered me

THIRD PERSON P.O.V The women were thoroughly soaked to the skin with water, their hair was matted and plastered to their body, their heavy makeup was already flowing down their faces giving them a scary look. Damien frowned as he could make out shrimp scales and pieces leafy vegetables. The heavy smell of fish permeated the air and made him step farther away from them. "How could this happen" "Who did this? My hair! My makeup!" They all screamed as they accessed their bodies.

"Forget it. I might as well try anything at this point. Go ahead and do my makeup. The goal isn't beauty—it has to be eerie and scary. Viewers love watching players lose it." I thought about her unusual request for a moment. "Honestly, I don't think beauty and creepiness have to clash. The obvious way to scare people is with grotesque, horrifying makeup, but there's a more effective approach—when you look beautiful yet still inspire pure fear. You may look innocent, but in truth, you're a flower blooming in the dark, nourished by the corpses around you. "When players stumble helplessly into your traps, you clap with glee, your face twisted into a crazed smile, the slits at the corners of you

Jax immediately stepped in front of me. Then I saw him. The man who entered didn’t feel human. An Alpha stood in the doorway with a deeply scarred face and eyes darker than death itself. His pheromones smelled rotten and rancid, like corpses left beneath the sun for days. Blood stained his clothes. Not old blood. Fresh. His dead eyes locked directly onto me. Then he smiled. “Found you.” Terror slammed into me so hard my knees nearly buckled. The Dreadlord. He tilted his head slightly while studying me with terrifying fascination.

The image of a demonic, clawed creature tearing through my stomach flashed in my mind. My vision blackened with terror. "Don't listen to it!" Kate yelled, grabbing my arm. "It's not real! Think about something." I turned my head slowly to her. But she would soon be a part of this illusion. Damon suddenly screamed, firing two shots into an empty bush. "Get away from me! You’re dead! I buried you in the desert!" He was sweating profusely, his eyes wide and bloodshot as he stared at an empty space. He was clearly seeing ghosts…

I turned the light back on. The scream that tore from my lungs wasn't human. The attic was packed. Hundreds of them. Not just my collection, but things that had crawled out from the eaves, from the crawlspaces, all wearing the faces of dolls I had never seen. They were all staring at the light, their pupils shrinking in unison, a sea of black dots vanishing into porcelain voids. They didn't retreat this time. They flinched, but they kept coming. "Don't look," a voice whispered from directly behind my ear. It sounded like Lady Genevieve. "It hurts to look."

Several pack members cried out in fear downstairs. Mira stepped forward quickly. “Everyone stay calm.” But the pressure kept building. I grabbed the railing beside me as another sharp pain struck my head. This time the visions came faster. I saw fire spreading through forests. Wolves fighting in darkness. Blood covering stone floors. Then I heard a woman screaming. The sound felt painfully familiar. I squeezed my eyes shut. “Aria.” Damon reached for me immediately. “What is wrong?” I struggled to breathe normally. “I keep seeing things.”

He uttered with a convincing voice. "I know, I know. But they make it look so real and horrific and I might end up peeing on myself if I should spend up to a minute there." Megan mumbled. "It's really a scary place, what if I did not get the chance to sleep at night?" "..." Damon stared blankly at her without saying anything, he felt like she still have much to say and he did not want to interrupt yet. He just let her do her thing. "...You know, views like these breed unhealthy thoughts, and sometimes, the majority ends up having nightmares. What if I end up having the same dream too...?" Megan sprouts the words out at a fast pace. And she keeps asking questions that Damon seems not to have

It’s just a light touch, a fleeting moment of locking lips, before I lift my head and stare into her eyes. The room closes in on me. Walls converge as if to swallow me whole. The weight of dread presses upon my chest, making it difficult to draw a steady breath. What the fuck is wrong with me? Damion’s words flash through my mind — voodoo magic. And I realize this girl must be a fucking witch.

They stood in their arched hindlegs like some diseased form of a mutated werewolf—sharp claws drawn as they released one ear-piercing screech after another. "What are these things?" Damon hissed in disgust. I let out a dry laugh. "Think of a wendigo and a Werewolf mating, and this is what you get. A thing of nightmares." "And you have come here on more than one occasion because?" Damon asked, and I looked out at the beasts again. Not wanting to look him in the eye as I replayed my nightmares in my head. "Because I never want to feel as helpless as I did when I was younger. If you can kill your fears, they can't come back to haunt you." I turned to him again, steeling my expression.