Good Horror Books To Read Novels & Stories

The moment the shattered library door swung shut behind us, the world fractured into two distinct, terrifying realities. Outside, the moaning chorus of the drawn horde swelled, a dissonant symphony of hunger echoing off the brick and concrete of the campus. Inside, it was a tomb. The air was cold, stale, and heavy with the scent of decaying paper, old leather, and the pervasive, sweet-rotten undertone that signaled death. Dust motes, disturbed by our violent entry, danced in the few slivers of gray light that cut through the grimy, high-set windows, illuminating a vast, shadowy expanse of towering bookshelves that receded into an abyssal darkness.

I wanted to read it at that moment but something was telling me otherwise. I badly wanted to read it but there was no way I could do that, it was just too complicated. Calming my nervous self I opened the book hoping he wouldn't see something that would scare the hell out of me. But who was I for the moon goddess that listened to my prayers? She had never listened to my prayers and I was sure of it. The first sentence I saw inside the book was no less horrifying than the first one. I would say it was on the same level and I was even more scared when I saw it.

“Great. Just great. Meg loves shopping for odds and ends there, and maybe it’s evil. WONDERFUL.” “Well, perhaps not evil, just . . . ” I wave him off, massaging my aching temples with my other hand. “Yeah, yeah. I got it. Holy God, Gavin. Demons, evil houses and doctors, ghosts, redneck voodoo zombie witch doctors and monsters . . . what the hell else have we got in this town?” He tips his head at the book. “How about gods . . . ”

They'd read 9 Lives, 10 Circles, and been tested on it. He wished he had a copy right now. It was a fiction book about one tom's attempt to gain an audience with the Black Devil. It read like a tour guide of the Underworld, down to the minutest detail, when it didn't go into the scratchings of the main character's slowly twisting mind.

"Then Orion must be the one in great danger now. As what have my father said, Nerissa don't kill her preys right away. She plays with their minds first, but after that, she kills them mercilessly. Also, the weaker the mind of the man, the more possibility that he will go insane even after he is rescued. I hope your friend has a strong mind so he it will be easy for us to awaken him from Nerissa's magic later on." We continued walking but moments later, we made an abrupt stop when we heard roara that echoed in the whole place. I turned nervously and my heart started to beat frantically when I saw two giant tigers with two heads and snakes as their tails. They look at us as if they are hunters

Now imagine what you can do to me if I dare argue with you. ‘You know I will never hurt you Billy, I love you.’ ‘Bye Petunia.’ With that, he left. I knew that not only will loneliness and darkness will be my refuge that night, but I was going to be haunted by all of my sins. I lived every day, haunted by the look Naledi gave me before she died, now all I could see was Anna’s wriggling feet, my strong grip on her mouth and the cold eyes I regained consciousness to. The way Billy looked at me didn’t sit well with me. He looked at me with disgust but mostly fear. The guy that I thought to be my everything, feared me. I was a monster like Anna had said. Why else would the person who sent me to k

Come pick a bouquet from these Flowers in a Dumpster. Eidolon Avenue: The First Feast by Jonathan Winn—where the secretly guilty go to die. All thrown into their own private hell as every cruel choice, every deadly mistake, every drop of spilled blood is remembered, resurrected and relived to feed the ancient evil that lives on Eidolon Avenue. Through a Mirror, Darkly by Kevin Lucia—Are there truths within the books we read? What if the book delves into the lives of the very town you live in? People you know? Or thought you knew. These are the questions a bookstore owner face when a mysterious book shows up.

After two days of high temperatures and intense boredom, he remembered the three books. Sam pulled out the one with the Mummy on the cover, because it looked the most innocuous. It was entitled the Ninth Pan Book of Horror Stories. He wasn’t the least bit prepared for what he found inside. The first three stories involved emasculation, murder and burning at the stake. In his fevered state Sam felt he was not only watching the characters’ suffering, he was experiencing it along with them. He flung the book at the wall and then hid it again, wishing he could burn it like Jinnot, the young girl in the third story who was burned alive.

And are Dan Simmons books in your rich assortment of mysticism? — Our classics are on the second floor, on the outermost shelf, right next to the stairs. And Simmons... we need to look in the database. Leah headed in that direction, determined to leave today with at least a couple of collectible collections of works, including the short stories: The Dunwich Horror, The Call of Cthulhu, The Murders in the Rue Morgue, and A Premature Funeral. She read them more than once, learning them practically by heart. However, after the move, the number of her books decreased sharply and almost all the works of Alan Edgar Allan Poe and Howard Lovecraft were cut. On the one hand, those books had become di

Histories, myths, philosophies—every book was a whisper of the past. Ashara’s gaze stopped on a particular section on the far wall, its books older, darker in design, and faintly ominous. Something about the curling silver script caught her attention. One of the titles read: Nocturnae Vitae: The Legacy of the Blood Born. Her breath hitched. “Vampires?” she murmured, tilting her head.