Fear Street Masks Novels & Stories

I pressed urgency in my tone. The driver shook his head slowly, a look of panic creeping onto his face. “I’m sorry… I didn’t get a good look. He was wearing a mask… I didn’t see his face. But he had a… a doll.” “A doll?” I repeated, frustration building within me. “What kind of doll?” “Scary looking… with blood on it. I thought it was a joke at first. he looks like he is under a disguise.” His voice trembled, and I could see the fear in his eyes.

Forgotten. I wanted to shake her. To scream in her face. Look at her! She’s five! She needs you! She needs someone! But Taylor didn’t hear me. She couldn’t. The hours bled into one another, the house heavier with every second. Taylor rose slowly, like her bones ached, and moved to the bedroom. I followed, dread clinging to me like shadow. She opened the closet, pulled out a suitcase, and began to fill it. Dresses, shoes, stacks of folded shirts.

"He looks very much like Gilbert Gardier, Jean's twin brother." And the dinner party was worse than Alexa had imagined, making her regret not taking the man's advice to go home. Twenty new guests had arrived in addition to the old ones. And these twenty people looked very conspicuous; besides being dressed in gothic style with shades of red and black, they all wore masquerade masks that covered the right side of their faces. And the most horrifying thing was their right eye, their eyeballs was not in the socket, instead there was a purple diamond stone in the socket, replacing the eyeballs. "Are you scared, new girl?" asked Eva, one of Alexa's colleagues.

Pockmark Mask now. ***

Naked would be much better. “Later,” Chase promises. “Come on, we’re here.” He hands me a mask, and I place it on, following their lead. Each of them wears a different mask—creepy as hell clowns. If I were afraid of clowns, I’d probably be cowering right now. I don't have a clown one. Instead, I’m wearing a horrifying bunny mask, which feels more fitting for a horror movie than a hunting game. This whole setup feels more like the Purge than anything else, especially with the masks.

“I picked her out of the crowd, so let me start.” The rest of the men groaned with discontent as their friend adjusted his mask and stood right before her. The mask had an eerie smile extending from the left ear to the right, but placed on the forehead instead of his mouth. He had his chin covered with sharp stubble and a mouth which right then had a disdainful shape. Jasmine had already lost hers, she was trembling with fear, and her nose started bleeding. That was her trait - whenever she felt scared, the bleeding started and didn’t stop until she lay down with a piece of ice on it.

Maya retorted, folding her hands under her breast. "Good, I think we can work with that, even if you're both being extremely brute with your words," Becca said, frowning. "First of all, you should cover your faces," Becca handed each of us a mask. It was made like the face of an animal. Maya's face was a leopard, Naya's face was a hyena, Becca's face was a rabbit and my face was a deer. "Why do I get to wear a deer? Why not a Lion?" I frowned, wearing the mask.

Her skin was warm beneath my touch, soft as sin. “Listen to me,” I said, each word deliberate. “Masks are for people afraid of being seen. I don’t fear them. They fear me.” Her breath hitched, just slightly, the sound subtle but unmistakable. She didn’t say anything, but I felt her shift—just enough to lean into me, into the danger. She slipped the mask on, the black satin molding to her face like it had been made for her. It framed her eyes perfectly—those dark, knowing eyes that undid me with a single glance—and left her mouth bare, parted in silent invitation.

Fear was the only thing that would keep him alive when the masks came down and the music started. I stepped out of the alcove. My heels struck the stone - tick, tick, tick - a clock counting down to something that had already begun. The corridor stretched before me, lined with tapestries of dead kings and older lies, and I walked it like I owned every shadow between the torches. Another Masquerade was coming. The masks were already chosen. The orchestra was already tuning. And when the first note played, when Jaxon stepped into his precious East Ballroom with his bought-and-paid-for containment circle and his hero's smile hidden behind gilt and silk -