First Horror Novels & Stories

I don’t know if it’s working. Allison: How do you mean? Sidney: Like it was hard to start watching a horror movie tonight. Allison: So? You had some scary shit happen. Why not take a horror break? Sidney: I can’t take a horror break. I made horror my life. I can’t just take a break from it. Allison: Why not?

Fear filled my every bone, but before I could react, terror flooded my face, and I knew—this was just the beginning. Victor Hensley!

It was an odd scene, but it had a harmonious charm. The film had all the elements of a typical horror movie. A group of friends heard rumors about a haunted house in the city and, excited and curious, decided to live there for a week. During this time, they gradually uncovered the truth about the haunted house and the death of a woman who had once lived there. The movie featured numerous spine-chilling scenes that made Annie shiver, her eyes tightly shut at times. She loved the thrill of watching horror films, but this one felt eerily realistic, sending shivers down her spine.

Anna's shocked face was visible and yet she was confident that they could kill it. Harry then yanked his sword up as well as Chaney and Anna, they swung their sword with their might, realizing that if they did not protect them, they were doomed. Together the trio swirled their sword as hard as they could, fighting and protecting themselves from its poisonous tongue. Harry's motion seems to have been eyeing the snakes. He couldn't believe this. He didn't want to anyway. He never saw something like that even from his horrible nightmares. But that was only because his brain always woke him up before such a horrific image covered his mind. And now he was seeing something his eyes won't ever be a

“It's time to wake up, sweetie...” The sun was beginning to rise, but the light didn't bring comfort. It only clarified the nightmare. I looked at the eye again. The pupil didn't dilate or contract. It remained a fixed, black pinprick in a sea of terrifying blue. As my eyes adjusted, I realized the skin around the eye didn't look like skin at all. It looked like wet parchment stretched too tightly over a frame that didn't quite fit. I remembered the "rules" people joked about in horror movies. Don't go outside. Don't answer the door. But what do you do when the monster is already in the hallway, wearing your father’s throat like a stolen garment?

Sela and Leo stood frozen, watching in utter terror as the first Reaper in over a century began to open his eyes. The first shadow of the Grey had fallen on their peaceful world. And they had been the ones to open the door.

Then the horror roared. BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM! The sound shattered valleys. Destroyed cliffs. Sent shockwaves across continents. But this time— nobody stepped back. Not the armies. Not the heirs. Not the guardians. Nobody. Because for the first time— the horror looked afraid. Actually afraid. Honestly? Fair. Very fair. Reasonable actually. Then the creature moved. Fast. Far too fast. Its massive hand shot toward Thomas. Reality exploded around it. The sky tore open. Mountains cracked.

Amara was in a way relieved that her grandfather still lives and on the other hand in tenterhooks - he was in death clutches. A transperant screen suddenly pops up and she saw a vision in it. A thick rope was tied around the throat of Lima. She was going claustrophobic and almost on the brink of losing her life. "Please no...." Amara yelled to the ghost. "Do not kill her." She pleaded. "You have just ten minutes of time. Get dressed and be ready for our first night. Or else you know the repercussion. Just as the fakir and Lima died all your family will reach the lord." The vampire threatened.

“Given the events of the past week, do you really think it’s a good idea to open your drive-in with a horror show?” Skoger smiled slightly and turned to look at the trees that surrounded the back of the house. Yellow ironwood leaves fluttered and whispered in the wind and he nodded as if he were agreeing with them. “You know, my aunt always said the people in this country had a passion for fear. I believe that is still true. Fear is the first and most pure of man’s experiences. It nourishes us in a way. We come to crave it.