Free Horror Stories Novels & Stories

Looked like Loren had gotten carried away, Ria thought. "You know, of all the ghosts, the most dangerous are the ones that carry grudges and regrets…" Loren rambled on again. Ria started to think that Loren liked horror topics like this. "What do you mean?" Ria responded while reading through some of the articles she found earlier. “I have a story that my mother firsthand experienced. She once rented an old house that was haunted by a spirit full of regret and anger that almost brought her to an terrible accident…” Loren had already started preparing her story when Ria noticed that the clock already indicated that their next class was about to start.

I don't even have his number! "Hello? Who's there?" I whispered. It was like a horror movie. The girl in the forest screaming and running for her dear life. Maybe it is Jordan. He is a douchebag but can he pull such a stunt just to scare me? One thing I learned from the horror movies I watch is never to scream and run so I backed away and tried to be in the shade because the moon was up and bright. I don't want to be spotted or watched by who may or may not be my predator.

Death awaits you, your darkest pleasures hitchhiked on the highway. On a rainy night at the police station between highways, reservations, between the mountains, following a highway, amidst the crimes of the dawn, among the nights of stars, among the crimes, the policemen death asked for a ride; Being that it's a collection of vampire/werewolf stories, investigation. Several horror tales, among several characters that pass through the city of Lovecraft County. So, follow the supernatural world, between changes, attacks of beasts and supernatural worlds, lives of terror and nightmares.

“What else have you heard?” Too much. Too much poison dressed up as bedtime stories. Garrett Monroe—my father, the only family I had left—used to slur those horror tales into my ears whenever he was drunk. Stories about sharp-toothed beasts who dragged children from their beds and devoured them whole. Creatures who wore human skin by day but hunted by moonlight. At the time, I thought he was warning me. Trying to protect me in his own twisted, broken way. But now? Now I don’t know.

Story Note: “Room for One More” is a standalone short from my erotic collectiona mix of intense, sensual, and sometimes forbidden stories that explore the raw edges of desire. Each story introduces new characters, new fantasies, and unapologetically explicit encounters. This particular tale features a taboo dynamic between step-siblings, told with heat, dominance, and no holding back. Reader discretion is advised. *************************************************

It was part of the town's rules which stated that 'the town's library is forbidden after dark. "Wow! It's an intriguing story, long, but intriguing. So nobody has ever attempted the forbidden rule?" I asked. "Of course, a lot of people tried it but none of them came out alive to tell the tale." "This is a strange place, a forbidden library and shapeshifters," I whispered.

It infuriated Cassy more—with the night that’s the homecoming of the ghosts and horrors. A wicked laugh itched to be out, instead, she scrutinized the height. The distance between her and the ground did not harrow her. It amazed her at how different she’s lurking around where the normal people might not even stare without a wave of nausea washing over them. An urge to smoke-filled her; she fetched a pack from the inside pocket of her dark blue jacket; ignited the flame, mumbling, “Every legendary story is a pent-up frustration of human beings to invoke fear in the minds of those whom they hate. Several against one or one against many.”

she commented. “Well… actually there is more…” I laughed feeling awkward about throwing everything on her at once. Fortunately, she was way to excited hearing about my quite supernatural stories to tell me to stop. I even thought she might have been memorizing my words for the sake of writing scenarios in the future. Unfortunately, there was nothing romantic about my last night's experience, it sounded more like a scene from a horror movie. I kept trembling even reminiscing those moments I was Immara.

“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.

He was lying face down, and face up, all at once. I live in that house now. I am the village "fixer." And every night, I listen to the scratching beneath the floorboards. I don't fear the ones that crawl. I fear the ones that wait. Because now I know that the most terrifying thing in the world isn't death—it’s a corpse that refuses to close its eyes.