Free Horror Book Novels & Stories

I read the titles out loud. “The Devil in Silver by Victor LaValle. The October Country by Ray Bradbury. Broken Monsters by Lauren Beukes. Last Days by Brian Evenson.” I curl up my lip in disgust. “This is your reading style?” I frown. He glances up. “I like horror.” I widen my eyes. “Boring.” His jaw ticks in annoyance. “What do you like to read?” I purposely bend over, revealing my naked ass. “I like raunch.”

But the fear that had been gnawing at her for days pushed her forward. She opened the book. The first pages were cold, filled with business notes and travel schedules. But as she flipped forward, the handwriting changed—it became jagged, frantic, and deeply personal. Her eyes landed on a single sentence near the end: Some ghosts don’t stay buried because they were never dead. A chill crept down her spine, turning her blood to ice. Before she could process the words, the lights throughout the estate flickered once, buzzed, and died. The house fell into absolute, suffocating darkness.

The books here were faintly covered in dust. As he reached out to the top shelf, his eyes fell on a familiar thick black book lying on the floor. The Art Of The Body. Before he could stop himself, his eyes flicked up and locked with Scarlett. She didn't look away, but a deep blush gradually spread across her cheeks. That book brought back memories, and for a moment, he forgot the unspoken tension between them. He looked away finally and pulled out several dusty books from the shelf. Two were about old werewolves, one about vampires, and the last one was about witches.

They were images of blackened houses, broken bodies, and trembling survivors murmuring in fear. “They said they saw… shadows with horns,” Eden whispered. “They said the shadows walked through fire and didn’t burn. They tore through flesh like paper. One old man said he saw a child disappear in the blink of an eye. There was no blood. No scream. Just… gone.” Sophia paled. Her fingers trembled as she reached into the folds of her robe and pulled out a tattered, leather-bound grimoire. She flipped the pages quickly. “I’ve read this before,” she muttered,. “Long ago. When I was a child. The signs… horned shadows, vanishing people, soulless fire. It’s not mortal.”

Just muttered, “Feel free to browse.” I nodded and wandered. The silence was thick. Peaceful. I ran my fingers along the spines—mysteries, war history, sci-fi. None of it felt right. I turned a corner and found myself in a crooked, narrow aisle. A handwritten label above the shelf read: “Folklores, Myths & Things Best Left Alone.” Something about it made me shiver. I reached out and picked a worn, black-spined book: “The Blood and Bond of the Wild.”

“This is the diary of Amanda Crossfield. Should you come across this book while I am deceased, please read it. The dead have nothing to fear. If I am still alive, proceed no further. I will flay your skin in the open sun and coat your exposed insides with honey.” “Ouh, gnarly,” I hissed. But the blood. That wasn’t a mistake…it wasn’t just the air setting a mood. It was the smell of the book, and the more I read, the wider my eyes got. I was seeing things that my own mother wrote that made so much sense, and at the same time, just made me freeze with shock. By the time I was at the last page, most of the paper was covered and smeared in the red liquid that had now turned deep maroon.

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 next second, the Patchwork Monster tore the man in half. He tossed the body outside casually. Just then, a crisp, bell-like voice sounded outside. “It’s after work hours, who’s so rude as to be throwing bodies around?” A young girl with three heads and eight arms appeared at the doorway. With just one look at the shop, anger filled her voice, and her hair stood on end. “Who the hell had a death wish and smashed the Number One Must-Eat shop in the entire horror game?”

Peter said as she smiled. "That's my man" she said as she took the phone from Elena. "I need a book. I'm gonna decipher it on a book. I'm too scared to read it out. What's written there is scary. I'll write it on a book and give it to you guys. I think that book came from hell" Bonnie said as Laura brought a book from her bag and handled it to her. "Bonnie, what's the meaning of In libro de morte?" Elena asked remembering when Laura's grandpa told them about a book like that and they saw that same name on sarah's journal.

Poor one was sitting in peace under the warmth of the shelf. A guy beside keeps his gaze fixed on the shelf in front, yet his hands tremble to pull out any book. One or two times, his eyes fall on me and fear grasps them. He must be searching for a horror story. But I certainly don't look like a ghost! 'I highly doubt that–given the way you are holding your book.' Thud!