Free Horror Stories นิยาย & เรื่องราว

FREAKY AFTER DARK: CONTENT WARNINGS What You're About To Read This collection doesn't do safe. It doesn't do vanilla. If you're looking for paranormal romance where the monsters are basically humans with extra features, keep scrolling. Freaky After Dark is unapologetically filthy paranormal erotica where supernatural beings act like the feral, dominant, possessive creatures they actually are. These stories are designed for readers who've been waiting for monster romance that actually commits to the monster part.

She found it funny to tell me horror stories before bed. I remembered once returning the favor. I told her about Terry the ghost, a boy who’d died in an accident on the street across from our house. Terry’s ghost wandered our neighbor’s house where his family had once lived. Mom hadn’t slept alone for weeks after that, and she never told me another horror story. My mom was like me in some ways—she was terrified of the paranormal, or anything religious. That’s why her engagement to Bill had been such a shock. But even Mom had gotten braver, so why couldn’t I?

Those books were older than any of the others in his office. The bottom shelf (the one he’d been searching when he’d first heard the cats playing in the hall) held his collection of horror anthologies. The famed Whispers series, edited by Stuart David Schiff, featuring the varied works of Ramsey Campbell, Stephen King, Charles Grant and so many others. The Mammoth Book of Best New Horror from England. The Shivers series, published by Cemetery Dance. Masques, Borderlands, Shadows, Stalkers, Dark Forces, October Dreams I & II, Corpse Blossoms, Horror Library Volumes 1-5, and Prime Evil. Classic horror anthologies jammed next to paperback collections of slightly lesser repute with titles to mat

I feel sick at that. “So it’s hell then?” I ask, and he shakes his head. “No, it’s worse. Hell, you can get to. Darkness, you can’t. They have shadow monsters. That occasionally enter other realms, they feed on the sleeping victims and inflict the most disturbing nightmares that feel so real the victim wakes covered in blood. They eventually go insane from lack of sleep. That is just one of the horrors of darkness.” I suck in a breath and declare I will never sleep again. Also, every light will be kept on. I am not being used for the shadows. I shudder at the thought.

** My hands were firm on the steering wheel as Mikael and I journeyed through the darkened road. It had been one hour of us in the car, the city turning into country and the road transitioning into dirt and moist earth beneath my car's wheels. We kept conversation minimal the first hour because we were both nervous. Mikael, however, was more anxious than I was. He had never been to the Bayou of the Shunned, but like everyone else, had heard tales about the cursed swamp and the witch that ruled over it as its Supreme Sorceress. Sajida was the bedtime story mambos and houngans told their kids about to keep them in line; in the black community, Sajida was "that" woman that the children of voodo

By now, we’ve all had more than a few drinks, and we’re halfway between tipsy and passed out. “Let’s tell scary stories,” Laura, one of my friends, suggests. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Kara asks. “These woods are spooky at night. I have to be able to sleep, you know.” “Maybe we should call one of those hunky forest rangers for you,” I suggest with a laugh. “He’d better bring a friend,” Laura says. “Or twelve,” Diana, another friend of mine, adds. We all laugh, and Laura starts in on the first story about night walkers, ghostly figures who march through the forest.

They had dived into their favorite topic of discussion, their boyfriends. “Gideon is sooo good! He literally makes me come every time, every fucking time” Lauren said, fanning herself. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Here we go again. “Me too!!!!” Helen giggled, eyes wide with excitement. “Brian does this thing with his tongue, and, oh my God, my eyes roll! I literally have to beg him to stop” They yapped none stop for hours. Who was better in bed. Who had a bigger dick. Who was freakier, Who ate pussy better. It was getting damn annoying because , my lovely boyfriend, was shit.

But the person didn't respond—just persistent banging in reply. I asked again, but got even more banging, which eventually woke Lorena up. She squinted at the alarm clock before running her hand over her face. "Did someone die or something?" Lorena said in sleepy frustration. "It's barely 6am." "I'll go see who it is," I said, my heart beating as I stood up from the bed and walked to the door, fearing the worst. And the moment I opened it, I swallowed. Hard. Because there he was.

I darted my eyes away quickly-- "You promised," Al said all of a sudden. "What?" I paused in surprise. "No question asked," Al smirked, holding out his hand to me. I was grateful that he didn't ask into it. Night fell. So the thing about horror stories is that-- The fear kicks in only at dark nights when you are alone, not when you are at the crowded theater or on the bright street. Meaning-- I couldn't fall asleep that night. Turns out it's a bit hard to fall asleep when you don't close your eyes because you feel the need to stare at everything with alert.

The moment Brandon Price started his weird off-camera narration, everything seemed to happen at the same time: I heard a thud, so loud the floor vibrated under my feet, the ball on the kitchen table lit up and the TV turned off. “What—?” Another loud thud cut me off. “Never again,” said the app from my phone. “Oh, you mean these guys? Fine with me.” The third thud made me jump to my feet. “I said fine, no need to get so loud!” “Not us.” Those two words sent cold chills down my spine. “That wasn’t one of you?” “Demon. Basement.” “What!?” The next thud seemed to shake the whole house. “Library.” I forgot all about my dinner, grabbed my phone and hurried out of the kitchen with a frightened gla