Goosebumps An Old Story Novels & Stories

she said, her voice tinged with a laugh. "Exactly," I said, trying to keep the slight irritation I felt from my voice. "There's another full moon tonight. Maybe there's something to it." The man leaned closer, his eyes lighting up with interest. "My Pawpaw used to tell us stories about those creatures," he said. "Said they had a code, that they wouldn't harm humans unless provoked."

"It's only been three years. Is there a need to be so formal? "I'm still your fiancé, and this is how you talk to me? Clearly, three years wasn't enough time for you to learn your lesson. If you keep this up, I will call off the engagement." I glanced at him, blank and bored. What made him think that after three years, I'd still feel anything for him? I was ten years old when I became an orphan. Hubert Hamilton, Lex's grandfather, had brought me into their mansion, announcing my engagement to Lex like it was already written in stone. I was just a kid, but I believed it.

I’d just survived the ‘Public Display of Lip-lock Disaster’, and now I was about to play ‘Guess What the Man Who Could Kill Me in Six Seconds Doesn’t Know About Me’. Knox didn’t even pretend to refuse. He lounged back, one arm draped over the backrest, his gaze fixed on me. “Go ahead, Little Cherry. Make me curious.” He murmured, enough to make it sound like a fuckin’ dare. I shot him a narrow-eyed smile. “Alright. Something you don’t know about me…” I said putting on my best thoughtful face. “Hmm… here is one, when I was twelve, I got chased by a goose for stealing its bread.”

Shadows flickering against the walls. Then Saint held up a page: “Tell a story.” I cleared my throat, looked between them. “Okay. You’re getting the one about the goat and my grandmother’s TV.” John raised an eyebrow. I took that as encouragement. “So when I was ten,” I began, “we had a neighbor with a goat named Destiny. Destiny hated electronics. Like, she’d literally charge at anything that beeped.” Saint was grinning already. “One day, my grandma bought a fancy new TV. A flat screen. We were all gathered to watch—wait for it—‘Who Wants to Be a Millionaire.’ Huge event.”

She finally blinked, turning away from me to grab the broom from the corner of the kitchen without making eye contact. “It's a myth,” she muttered, her back still turned. “A myth,” I repeated, not buying it for a second. “An old one.” She swept the broken glass into a neat pile, her movements tight and forced. “The elders used to tell it to the pups to keep them from wandering out into the woods at night. A scary name, a scary story. That's all it is.” “So I just happened to have a horrific nightmare about a bedtime story I've never even heard before?”

"On patrol. In the mountains east of here, the storms come down so fast you don't have time to find cover. You barely get any warning before you’re drenched." Cleo's brow furrowed. "Were you scared?" "No.” I paused. “You know what I did when the thunder came?" "What?" "I made up a story. To pass the time until it moved on." She shifted. "Can you tell one now?" Vera turned over, eyes narrowed a little as she rested her chin on her folded arms. “Of course.” I hummed, considering what would be appropriate for a four-year-old. "There was a wolf who lived on the edge of her pack's territory. She was young. Smaller than the others thought she should be, which was their mistake and not hers."

You get the point~ right? Goosebumps cover my entire body. Something seems off and this is the worst feeling I have felt in a long time. The last time I felt like this was when I was left in an elevator by my mother. It was an accident and I was just eight years old when that happened. But now, this is more intense and worse. I climb up on the... Podium? And stand before the other creatures. I don't make a move from where the creature left me and I watch in silence as it walks towards its fellow... Creatures.

he admits. "That's okay," I say. "Then I'll borrow it for you." He huffs weakly. "How generous." I smile softly and begin to massage his scalp in slow circles. "Want to hear a story?" He cracks his untainted eye open, looking up at me. "What kind of story?" "A harmless one," I say. "From when I was little." His lips twitch. "Go on." I take a deep breath. "When I was six, I was convinced our house was haunted."

I can tell Uncle Leo we aren't ready yet. 'I'm sure. I don't think it will help us, but it won't hurt either.' She said. I picked up the book. It was an old, deep brown, leatherbound book with the title in gold leaf. 'Tales of Olde'. It was heavier than I expected. Uncle Leo hadn't told me the title of the story so I skimmed the contents page. None of the titles mentioned an unnamed wolf. I sighed.

I let out a short laugh and hurried to polish off my hot dog so I could have some marshmallows as well. Dinner was an odd affair. It was strange to sit around and tell stories and laugh as if we were camping. Gerard was telling a tale about the time he was fifteen and thought he could hike across a mountain with a bag of potato chips and mini snickers bars. He had only spent a night then around two a.m. he was ran off by what he swears to this day was Bigfoot.