Gothic Horror Novelas e Histórias

So, follow the supernatural world, between changes, attacks of beasts and supernatural worlds, lives of terror and nightmares. So, come and follow your fears and mysteries in the midst of a great turnaround of events, between victims, the police and the crimes of the night, monsters and beasts of the underworld, beings of darkness that prowl the night. Between disappearances, supernatural beings, revenge of spirits, tales of death and rebirth, tracing a line from the world of darkness, the lands of rain... 22 hours at night. It was the dark New Year's Eve, the weekend night during All Saints' Day.

I only buried my face into his chest, inhaling his scent and hoping it would bring me comfort. "Now, you are scared." He snorted and my head shot up. "I am not scared!" I huffed. He snickered. "You are an asshole," I told him, my eyes wandering around. They widened, nearly spilling out of their sockets when an intimidatingly tall Victorian castle came into view, flat-out looking like an image from a Gothic story with the thin branches that were wrapped around it as though they stemmed from its old Grey walls. The air around here felt colder and ominous. The unsettling atmosphere that hung around here had me furrowing my brows, but despite how it seemed to have an unnerving darkness oozing of

The windows, like vacant eyes, stared out into the night, reflecting the moon's pale glow with a touch of melancholy. Within the mansion's dimly lit chambers, the atmosphere was heavy with a sense of impending doom. Shadows danced along the walls, their elongated forms twisting and contorting as if they held secrets of their own. The air itself seemed to hold its breath, as if it dared not disturb the sinister proceedings about to unfold.

I'd be labeled a freak by association. Goth kids were feared.They always had an air of spookiness and macabre surrounding their auras , they were obsessed with death , dark humor and dark poetry and they always looked as though they stepped right out of a funeral catalogue. Standing next to this five foot tar colored freak, I couldn't stop my rampant thoughts from imagining her working in a cemetery some day.I have a feeling she'd qualify to work in one seeing how obsessed she was with death and everything it came with. "What did you do to my poetry journal?'She barked, holding the aforementioned journal in her pale hands.

For sweeping onto the blighted shore strode a horror beyond imagining… A sound like grinding bones split the ruin as a colossus dragged itself from the river, waters sheeting greasily from its misshapen bulk. Towering pillars of bark and bone grasped towards the smoke-shrouded sky while myriad eyes crawled o'er gnarled flesh glistening with eldritch decay. Its coming crushed lesser terrors beneath ponderous feet, until all fighting ceased and fell things turned as one towards this new master of the glade. A psychic moan escaped its jaws, suffusing the air with malice that clawed at sanity's edges.

A faint, unearthly mist creeps across the ground, like skeletal fingers reaching out to snatch the living, as if death itself was reclaiming the land. The trees, once green and vibrant, now stand as skeletal sentinels, their branches like bony fingers reaching towards the sky. The wind whispers an unsettling melody, a haunting dirge that seems to warn of impending doom. In this ominous hour, the shadows come alive, twisting and writhing like living darkness. The very fabric of reality seems to be unraveling, and the whispers of the unknown are a chilling reminder that something ancient and evil lurks just beyond the edge of perception.

A sense of unease permeated the air as if the very stones themselves whispered of long-lost secrets and ancient curses. Polished ebony coffins lined the walls, each adorned with intricate carvings depicting scenes of darkness and death. Gargoyles leered down from their perches high above, their stone eyes seemingly tracking every movement with an eerie intensity. Sinister whispers reverberated through the dark corridors, and the cold touch of fear lingered in the air, warning all who dared to intrude upon this unholy sanctuary.

His wrinkled face looked like it was crawling with countless wriggling worms. I shuddered and stepped back, whispering to Silvia, "Good thing I've got you. This place is terrifying." She snorted and suddenly shoved me forward, straight toward George. With an icy laugh, she said, "This pretty boy will make a great offering. You're going to love him." Before I could react, George gestured, and several eerie puppets stepped forward to pin me down and drain my blood. A sharp bell rang out, echoing through the night.

Under the blazing sun, the party walked for an entire half hour before arriving at the village square. "Is this a stone altar?" "Aren't altars par for the course when it comes to myths about the sea? What's there to be surprised about?" The party discussed amongst themselves carefully, before Afro exclaimed, "Wait, that altar isn't made of stones, it's made of human skulls! Wasn't this supposed to just be an A-ranked dungeon? How did so many people die here?" At the center of the square stood a massive watchtower built entirely from human bones.

With a click, the clasp came undone, and the pendant fell to the floor. In a flash, Zoe’s eyes widened. She grabbed my collar like a madwoman. “Y-You… You didn’t switch fates? You lied to me?!” I looked at her in surprise. “What are you talking about?” Miles suddenly exclaimed, “Ow, Maisie. My neck feels itchy.” He pulled down his collar, exposing his collarbone, and clearly revealed who was actually wearing the demonic fate-swapping lock.