Free Horror Book Novels & Stories

“No doubt.” “What about those two small FedEx boxes?” “Most recent novels from Samhain Horror.” “Awesome. Those books I bought at the Webb County Library sale last week?” “Sorted into general and mystery fiction. Struck the mother lode with all those Mary Higgins Clark novels.” “We cater to all tastes, miss. Unless you like Twilight, 50 Shades of Gray or James Patterson. Folks want drivel, they can drive to Utica.” “Hey. I actually liked Twilight. It wasn’t all bad.”

But the one that caught my attention was The Grim Howl. I reached for it because it was on the second shelf. I could barely grab it. I opened it more out of curiosity. To my great surprise, I discovered it wasn’t fiction but rather nonfiction. It was like a guidebook for a man who turned into a bloodthirsty beast when the moon was full. “You’re curious, aren’t you?” a low, masculine voice said suddenly. I jumped at the sound of his deep tone. I turned around and almost lost my balance.

My eyes slowly moved to spot the velvet-covered book and something written on it with golden ink that shined in the light coming through the open window. Despite thinking to ignore it at first, I found myself walking towards it a few moments later. Something about leaving this book without looking through it did not feel right to me, it just made me feel some sort of anxiousness I was not ready to deal with. I walked closer to the book and picked it up. On the blood-red colored cover of the book, there remained written in bold golden letters— Predators. The confusion took over whilst I looked at the name, my fingertips brushed on the velvet feeling the smoothness of it, and then I slowly ope

There was a table. Books stacked on it. Not like the ones I used to see at home. These looked older. Some of them had markings on the covers I didn’t understand. I walked closer. My fingers hovered over one of them before I touched it. The cover felt rough. Worn. I opened it slowly. The pages were filled with symbols. Not letters. Not words I knew. Shapes. Lines. Things that looked like drawings but weren’t. I frowned. “What is this…?” I flipped a page.

My eyes fell on a shelf, and I could see the most ancient books there. I grabbed one that looked strange among them. Then I leaned against a wall to read it calmly. The brown leather cover was torn from the corner of the book. As I opened it, I realized the edges of the pages were black with soot. 'This is weird,' I muttered. 'Someone tried to destroy this book. But who?'” ​I flipped to the first page and my heart stopped. Three words stared back at me… "Hell of Lycans." I gasped, the sound echoing through the silent library.

She opened it—pages parting easily now, as though the book recognized her exhaustion and offered no resistance. She flipped past the early chapters she had already memorized. Deeper. To the sections she had only skimmed before, too afraid to linger. *Control of the Undead* The script here was denser, colder. Diagrams of binding circles, sigils of domination, lists of names for the restless dead. Zombies—simple thralls of flesh, bound by will alone. Ghouls—carrion-eaters, drawn by hunger, controlled through offerings of meat and bone.

The red-clad female ghost had once slaughtered an entire room of players in three seconds, then hung their corpses upside down from tree branches with red silk, creating a forest of dangling bodies. The Scissorhands monster had skewered more than a dozen people together, stirring their organs with his blades until they dissolved into a pile of flesh. As for the warden, he locked each team inside separate rooms and released over a dozen ghosts among them, forcing them to betray one another in desperate attempts to survive. In the end, every single one of the players was torn to pieces. All the players knew was that the bosses' methods were monstrously cruel. What they didn't know was that tho

Countless shelves lined with weathered books and scrolls stretched into the distance, promising untold secrets and forgotten wisdom. They made their way through the labyrinthine aisles, their eyes scanning the titles and searching for any mention of Lycans or black magic. Dust danced in the rays of sunlight that filtered through stained glass windows, lending an ethereal quality to their journey. Finally, they discovered a section dedicated to ancient legends and forbidden knowledge. The books here were wrapped in worn leather, their pages delicate and yellowed with age. Rey's fingers traced the spines until they settled upon a tome titled "The Chronicles of Shadows: Unveiling the Secrets of

I felt a shiver run down my spine as I ran my fingers over the embossed title: Nightstalkers; Hunting the Creatures of the Night. As I opened the book, I felt a shiver run down my spine. The pages were old and worn, their corners curling up from years of use. The illustrations within were both beautiful and terrifying, depicting hunters fighting against the creatures I had come to learn about; werewolves, vampires, and other beasts of the night. As I read through the book, I felt my heart racing with excitement and fear. I learned about the different types of hunters and their techniques for tracking and killing these dangerous creatures. Fear overtook me as I thought of Dorian, fighting ag

But Rafe had previously stated that this book was related to the secret of his changing attitude, so I decided to keep looking. From noon to sunset, the sun rises. This book has never been found; it appears to have vanished from this world. "What's happening? How can a book just disappear from the world?" I felt as if I'd explored every nook and cranny of the forest's edge and come up empty-handed. It was as if the book had vanished entirely. My heart then skipped a beat. I've never been so terrified. My hair stood on end, as if I were surrounded by something supernatural.