First Horror Book Novels & Stories

Everything now seemed a trap, a sinister game orchestrated by unseen hands. With every heartbeat, she thought she heard ghostly footsteps approaching her walls. She clutched the blanket to her chest like a child clutching a comforting toy, but the terror was greater than any blanket, thicker than any wall. Her eyes leaped to the table, where the book still lay. Its dark cover glinted faintly under a sliver of moonlight, as if it were watching her, as if its earlier fall had been a message, not an accident.

I wanted to read it at that moment but something was telling me otherwise. I badly wanted to read it but there was no way I could do that, it was just too complicated. Calming my nervous self I opened the book hoping he wouldn't see something that would scare the hell out of me. But who was I for the moon goddess that listened to my prayers? She had never listened to my prayers and I was sure of it. The first sentence I saw inside the book was no less horrifying than the first one. I would say it was on the same level and I was even more scared when I saw it.

Damon nodded I flew to the library the following day to return 'kidnapped' I decided I wanted another book, this time I chose a different author and a different genre, I chose horror, which wasnt far from thriller, like the first book, but horror was my favourite, I loved how ghosts were scary, and there were demons, and scary witches that cursed you, it made me laugh, for some reason this had always made me laugh, even before I knew I was a witch, now I knew why. The librarian was amazed to see me so quickly, but nodded in greeting, I nodded back. I chose a book called second nature, and blinked home, yes I could've flown but decided to blink. As soon as I got home I felt danger, not exactl

It was the one. She kept the book well because this was the last thing she saw her mother touch before she died. The cover of the book was a fierce monster. It was the same golden statue in her other hand. She opened it and immediately, all the memories of the horror book came to her…

Finally, she found the one she was looking for. Layla managed to grab the book and add it to her stack in her arms when her eyes caught sight of something. A book stood out among the rest. It was bound with dark brown leather and had brandished designs on the spine. The title read - Malleus Vampiro: A Treatise on Vampires. Placing her other books on the floor, Layla pulled the leather-bound book from its home amongst the others and opened it. As her eyes skimmed the pages, she caught a couple of words; SHADOW STALKERS, BLOODSUCKER, PHANTOMS.

“It’s almost time.” Reminding herself of not the things that she still ought to do or homework’s that she needed to finish. She is being pushed and reminded of that time, his words and his very deal, where the intended dread he ought her to feel rings with the words. “Take it or rather die, in this world where no one of us has a good choice. You are bound to be my tool as I will be your very grim reaper.” Holding the book tight as she smirks and is clearly in dismay towards the light that turns out to be the shadow of hell all along. She opens the book as the first page wrote the introduction.

Francesco My hands trembled as I placed them on The Black Book. This isn't going to be easy. But I have to do it. I sucked in a sharp breath and flipped open the cover. Deadly Sins. Wild Secrets. Mafia Rules. Do You Dare To Enter? A chill ran down my spine. What the hell does that mean? I swallowed hard and turned the first page. Nothing. A frown creased my forehead. I flipped to the next. Still nothing.

“The tension. The rush of adrenaline. The thrill. My heart banging in my chest when I know something really, really bad is about to happen to a character. What’s there not to love?” What was there not to love? Horror was happiness. Horror was life. Horror was something I never wanted to experience, so I got satisfaction from reading about fake people having them. “Then I’m sure you’ll appreciate my library. Half of it is dedicated to the horror genre.” “Really?” I looked up at him with a large, silly grin on my face. “Yes.” Dante coughed and cleared his throat, caught off guard by my childlike excitement. “I wouldn’t mind giving you a tour later. And I could lend you some books.”

Like a VIP. She looked through the shelf, trying to see which book to start with and for some strange reason one particular book kept calling to her. “The Anthropology and History of Witches.” It was boldly written on the spine of the book and was very difficult to ignore. And as she extended her hand to grab the book, she felt unsure and scared. Almost like she was committing sacrilege by simply being curious about those creatures. Her mind raced back to the witch that was burned infront of the mansion grounds.

The view outside the window is nothing special—just the usual hustle and bustle of the city—but it is enough to distract me from the strange mix of emotions swirling inside me. I lean back, letting out a long breath as I try to calm my racing thoughts. The bouquet is still on my mind, but I force myself to focus on the stack of books I brought home. There are ten of them, neatly piled on the table, and for the first time in my life, I have decided to try reading a horror novel. The idea makes me laugh a little, though it is a nervous laugh. I hope I do not end up screaming so loudly that my baby decides to make an early entrance into the world.