Eerie Novels & Stories

But pale, ghostly, her eyes filled with sorrow. "Mom?" Eve whispered, stepping forward before she could stop herself. The figure flickered, her lips moving, but the words were lost in the air. Then, as quickly as she had appeared, she was gone. Eve stumbled back, her pulse racing. Soren placed a hand on her shoulder. "This place feeds on memories," he murmured. "It will show you what you want to see. Or what you fear most." Eve clenched her fists. "Then let’s get out of here before it shows us something worse."

I jerk awake suddenly as the chill in the breeze wakes me causing shivers to run through me. I lift my head slowly and realise that it is eerily silent. No insect voices carry on the air, and there isn’t a single sound of battle in the distance. Sadness fills me as I wonder if now all my friends are gone, because again I have abandoned them. I’d been able to see the light through the darkness but it hadn’t been able to stop me from plunging straight into the unknown.

This was the punishment. At some point, green smoke crept in without warning. The temp plummeted. I shivered, and he slipped off his cloak, wrapping it around me. "Don't be afraid," he murmured. Afraid? Not even close. My perception glitch had me kind of... hyped. "They're back!" Mia yelled. "Grandpa and Grandma are back!" The door creaked open. Two shriveled elders shuffled in. Chat Feed went wild: [It's them. The revenants. Nobody survives past this.]

The Tower was a tomb of smoke and sirens. Eirwen pressed a hand to the wall, glass shards biting her palm, blood already drying on her skin. The alarms had faded into a low, pulsing heartbeat—warning, threat, promise. Down the corridor, the world burned in shades of orange and blue, reflecting off marble floors slick with gore. Somewhere, a body screamed and went quiet. All that was left was survival.

The witches closed in, their laughter echoing like a chorus of nightmares. Something inside Aqua snapped. A surge of dark energy, unfamiliar and terrifying, welled up within her. She felt her pendant grow hot against her skin, the clear crystal turning black as smoke. The air around her crackled with raw power as she turned back towards the attackers, her fear morphing into a blinding rage.

Hollis**** The mansion’s corridors were a labyrinth of decay, reeking of mildew and forgotten secrets. Each step echoed like a distant scream, and the oppressive silence wrapped around us like a predator waiting to strike. The air was thick, each breath heavy with the stench of rot, and every creak of the floorboards sent a jolt of adrenaline through my veins. I kept my grip firm on Hailey’s hand, her warmth grounding me even as icy dread crept further into my soul.

Gloria turned around, her face pale and clearly terrified. I could sense the fear in her eyes as the strange energy enveloped us. "What is this?" Gloria whispered, her voice trembling. "What's happening?" Eric and Damien looked equally terrified, their faces reflecting the doubt and anxiety that had engulfed us all. The nightmare atmosphere created by the shadows seemed to be closing in on us as they writhed and twisted.

The emptiness and pain caused by grief and anxiety in the Netherworld were all soothed by this force. She could feel the connection between her soul and body growing ever tighter, like a boat returning to harbor after a long journey. First, faint heartbeats reached her ears, steady and powerful, striking her soul essence again and again. Then, the aura of the Mortal Realm rushed over her: the sharp scent of disinfectant, the faint fragrance of grass and wood, and the familiar presence of Elijah beside her—all so different from the solemn, chilling, and evil aura of the Netherworld.

Adrian flicked his silver lighter, igniting a small flame that illuminated a foyer leading into a long corridor. ​Eileen walked with hesitant, unsteady steps, her hands reaching out to brush against the cold stone walls. With every touch, a strange sensation of belonging, laced with deep dread, flooded her mind. ​She suddenly froze in front of a round wooden table in the center of the foyer. On it sat a shattered glass ashtray, and right beside it, a wooden picture frame lay facedown, buried under a thick layer of dust. Eileen slowly leaned forward, holding her breath as she lifted the frame and blew the dust away with her shallow, trembling breaths.

But the man in front of me isn’t the one from the photo. His eyes are the same shape, the same color, but darker. Harder. Wrong. Like something else is wearing his face. Like something ancient is using him as a doorway. Jason whispers. “You’re supposed to be dead.” Brad, or whatever he is, smiles back. “Surprise.” The Hallow hums around them, hungry. And I feel it, a cold, creeping dread that slides down my spine. This isn’t just my father. This is something else. Something older. Something darker. Something that wants me. The vision snaps.