Good Horror Books Novels & Stories

“You surely will.’ He whispers as the familiar hue of lights awaits them both in the middle of the path they are taking. Knowing what it is as they are aware of what draws it in front of them. Daniela raise her hand as the lights came down and surrounds her. One by one and with a click of her hand, it turns into the books that make the entirety of these dark and dreadful charades. With that, she names the books one by one that open and presented their heart, but only the clear four can be heard at that moment as it rings. “Blood Resonance. The Call of Death. Death Reincarnate. Shinzo Dimension.” As the book opens along with its prominent hue that also represents the prominent sins that are t

Written by Evelyn Mba ©®©® @Paranormal @Romance UNFOLD TRUTH The girl walked over to the other shelf, searching for another book to read. I need a horror book, Mister. Sylvia said to the Library attendant. About what? The man asked. Wolves and Witches. Roxanne said from the other side. Shut up, Witch. Sylvia snapped and turned to the attendant. I'll prefer TRUTH OR DARE. Sylvia said and the attendant shrugged.

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!

“Light or dark doesn’t matter. It’s just levels of nasty when we wash the laundry and take out the trash.” That was something odd to say in Ian’s estimation. He knew they’d be euphemisms, but for what he wasn’t sure. Looking at the now open book. There're scribbled notes covering the pages' empty spaces as they fought for room with the diagrams and symbols. The splotches must be ink or blood. The paper was yellowed, and the ink faded. Ian knew nothing about books. To him, it looked old and ready to fall apart. “But do we have what we need to kill them? Or can we kill them?”

Yara froze in front of Adam's apartment door. Adam had given her an access card so she could enter, while Adam was picking up his aunt at the airport. "Is it okay if I go in alone? Then if something missing, I'll be the one who gets hit." Choosing to ignore her doubts, Yara entered Adam's apartment which she had never stepped in. She nodded in understanding after darting her gaze around the two-bedroom apartment. She learned more or less about design psychology, and from the interior design of Adam's apartment, Yara was able to underline Adam's character which was still very clear and cold.

I have no idea. The books were old, some pages are rotten and smell like mushrooms in a wet forest. I smiled when I realized that these books were precious. And they were all about my kind, the Helsings. For hours, all I did was read and get drowned in these pile of books. I have never been flooded with knowledge unlike before. The more I got absorbed into the pages, the more this hatred towards the corrupted vampires grew. It was eye-opening. Written on the page was,

Gemma knelt down and struggled for a few minutes to pry up the old floorboard. Sure enough, under a layer of grey dust lay a cracked mirror and an old leather-bound book. “Oh, wow. I see what you mean by it looking creepy. That book reminds me of the book from the movie Evil Dead, but smaller. You think it’s a diary or a grimoire?” “A what?” “A grimoire. A witch’s spellbook. Like a cookbook for spells and potions.” “I don’t know.” Gemma handed the book up to Becky and set the mirror on the bed carefully. “Mind the mirror, it’s broken in the corner.”

And of course, endless spell books. He's even included mysteries and psychological thrillers by my favorite authors, a kind afterthought. But there’s more: living grimoires, erotica by demons that may well be written by Cenobites, and people’s wickedest sins recorded like the Screwtape Letters littering the place galore. There are the life records and deeds of every Damned in Hell, recorded in lurid detail by Penemue, the fallen angel of writing. He notices me look longingly at the books. “Shall we read?” he asks. “We can devour books on a blanket, out under the stars.”

This shadow, this darkness with fangs, it had the power to stipulate how they dreamed and that made him crazy with need to blow the creature’s head off. “This is a local legend about nightmares, a satanic sorcerer, and black magic. It is titled as Shadows and Blood, and is 50 years old. Folklore, through songs and words and this guy had recorded it down, a little and a lot of his own story.” She looked at the book, biting her lips, forehead crinkling in concentration. “Sound gory and ancient and I have never heard of this.” Art said as he struggled to open his tired eyes. It burned from the lack of sleep. Aurora looked tired as well, but she was dogged to finish the book, to find anything mo

After resting for a while, they walked around and saw a bookstore which they both agreed to enter. She was reading the back of Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen when Jacob asked her. “What do you say let’s read horror books? Like the ones we watched today?” “Eh? I’m scared. You go read first, then give me a summary, then I’ll decide. Haha!” “Roger!” as he picked The Dunwich Horror and Others by H.P. Lovecraft and IT by Stephen King. They finished book shopping, it was around three in the afternoon when Jacob invited her to go somewhere else.