Good Horror Book Names Novels & Stories

For now, she didn't even want to wonder what would happen if aunt Margareth finds out about her feelings. Selene stretched first, then slowly dragged herself off the bed, her eyes immediately fixed on the Book of Magic that was lying down on the desk, the one she had gotten from aunt Meredith yesterday. Selene took it gently in her hands and sat on the edge of the bed, setting the bulky volume on her lap, and flipped through the book several times. Afer the fourth time she stopped at a page that showed a portrait of a man with ebony, half-length hair, in a long black coat... The face itself seemed familiar at once, but when Selene saw his eyes - dark and captivating like two black holes, she

We began our exploration in the section of myth and fantasy, where we encountered a lower section filled with fantasy tales. However, as we explored higher shelves, we stumbled upon books about "Vampirism, Witchcraft," and other dark subjects. Curiously, it appeared as though a book was missing from this specific shelf. Ignoring it, we continued our search and eventually stumbled upon a book titled "The Reaper of Sanity." "Here it is!" I exclaimed as I retrieved the book. "Oh, no!" Dominic exclaimed, clutching his head. "I need to park the car. You should start reading, I'll be right back." With that, he left me at the table with the book in my hand.

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

Everything now seemed a trap, a sinister game orchestrated by unseen hands. With every heartbeat, she thought she heard ghostly footsteps approaching her walls. She clutched the blanket to her chest like a child clutching a comforting toy, but the terror was greater than any blanket, thicker than any wall. Her eyes leaped to the table, where the book still lay. Its dark cover glinted faintly under a sliver of moonlight, as if it were watching her, as if its earlier fall had been a message, not an accident.

Dad grabbed the nurse, throwing her out of the room alongside himself. "Well-done, Emily, you have accomplished your mission." A sinister scent emerged, a wicked laugh echoing across the room. The once blue sky was now a mixture of black and white with the moon reflecting its radiant image. Wails filled the air as a ray of light fell from the sky, hitting a mountain on the other side of town. I groaned, wincing as my hand was scorched by the flaming book. The pages settled, words in red appearing on the pages. "Strigoi, Nosferatu, Jiangshi…"

“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.”

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.”

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 breath caught as I fingered a book with black binding, the name Samoht faded on the spine. I kept searching, the books clearly in no alphabetical order. Tysen. Laurel. Prith. Mandrag. Names in the history of werewolf medicine that had changed–and saved–so many lives. My heart skipped. My finger fell onto a dark green book, the faintest “I” outlined on its spine. The next held an even more faint “II.” And beyond that, a “IV.” I couldn’t breathe, my lungs suddenly filled with centuries of dust and the weight of repressed knowledge. I coughed, trying to stifle my surprise; my shock; my satisfaction.

Ruth ended the call and left Alex and Lee with an astounded expression. “Oh God.” Their minds were about to melt down. Werewolves, vampires, witches—were all real. Alex was reminded of a book he read at Books and Artifact where he works. “Lee, I found a book at Books and Artifact that was about supernatural creatures. I think the name of the book was, um, Wars, Wood Battles, um, I can’t remember.” “You mean The Wood War by Kayla Nicky Chadson?” Ha! The boy jolted in shock as he heard the voice of Abigail behind them. They stared at each other, confused about what to say.