Grave Stories Novels & Stories

“No. As in something strange happening in their territory.” “I don’t think so. I haven’t been keeping tabs for the last few days though.” “Maybe there’s no news.” “Is there something specific you want to know?” Marc stroke a match and dropped it down. The flames roared. “Probably. It’s still too soon.” After filling the dirt over the ashes, they exited the Western Umbre Graveyard, which was occasionally filled with ghouls even though it was illegal to dig old graves and eat the bodies. Witch Bones was decorated like a medieval cavern: gloomy atmosphere, wooden tables, and tall stools. On the walls were animal skulls and horns. Honestly, she often wondered how they had never been sued for tha

"I am strong. I am worthy. And I will not be defeated by your lies." Cassie, too, was trapped in her own nightmare. She was standing in a graveyard, the air thick with the scent of death and decay. The graves were fresh, the earth still damp. She could hear the distant sound of weeping and the muffled cries of the people she had once loved.

“There’ve been whispers. Nothing solid. Just… rumors. There was one I’d heard about a grave.” My brow arched. “A grave?” “Yes. An empty one. They said two corpses lay on either side, drained dry. Whoever stumbled on it swore it was linked to Dracula himself.” I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. “Dracula? Really? That’s the story floating around? Most of those tales are campfire trash meant to spook kids.” Her frown deepened, though a flicker of curiosity lingered in her gaze. “Maybe. I’ve never seen a vampire myself. Tell me the truth are they trying to spark another war?”

So in their eyes, I was nothing more than a tool to be completely drained of worth. The storm felt as though it were freezing my organs solid, but I summoned the last of my strength, curled my fingers and pushed the car door open again. My stiff limbs gave way the moment I stepped out, and I fell hard into the snow. Hearing the noises from my end, Zachary scoffed, his sneer almost visible in his voice. "No way, are you trying to rupture the heating pipes again? You can't even bear to hurt a mouse, so why are you acting all scary now?

At least far more interesting than the story I heard yesterday at the antique auction, is this one, I thought. I became uneasy when he described how two werewolves broke their fated mate promise and unleashed a terrible calamity. The narrative was too visceral and realistic. Every time I hear the story, it seems to tighten my heart, so I don't want to listen to it anymore. It felt odd, as though I had also lived through the same narrative. She continued, "And it all began with the Grimoire." "Grimoire?" I asked, intrigued. This Grimoire seemed to be at the center of all the odd occurrences.

~~Grief only exists where love lived once~~ Onika's Pov.... Today I woke up in the middle of night with a jerk. I was sweating profusely. My palms were a bit shaky with the aftereffect of the nightmare. I heard Alex crying loudly, it was then I realized I had screamed hard, hard enough to wake him up from his peaceful slumber like countless other nights.

Primus of Drexillia" and made Cranx the new Grand general of Drexillia He had made Sphinxes superior to all other beings, a 300 year Sphinx is more superior to a 400 year old Vampire, anyone who didn't abide by that was slayed before the eyes of Drexillians, Drex had also planned on invading Hidden kingdom (another kingdom were beings like Griffins, Grendels, Goblins etc lived under the lordship of Stoker (1500 years Minotaur), the Qunin of Hidden city, but all his efforts were in vain,he was a lot more stronger, but despite the fact that Sphinxes and stronger, Stoker always defeated Drex on each attack he made on invading Hidden city, as a result of their ages

Roxie was smart, kind, and quite pretty, but she was a loner—and from the other side of the tracks. “You will find the man of your dreams one day and the friends you will make will be the ones you’ll value and cherish for a lifetime.” Roxie smiled. It hadn’t been easy since her dad died—and she knew her mother longed for his touch. Steven was a good man and the way he died was suspicious—with even the most prominent and snooty of vamps coming to his funeral. He’d been attacked by a rogue pack about an hour from Myrtle—a wolf pack. In their world, it was completely acceptable for vampires to mingle with other creatures, but this pack was feral and it had been almost three years since Steven’s

The Taboo Chronicles is a curated collection of dark, twisted, and unapologetically erotic stories designed to push the boundaries of conventional desire. From the sacred halls of a silent church to the high-stakes shadows of obsessive power plays, these stories explore the raw, unyielding side of human hunger. Whether it’s the thrill of a secret shared in the dark or the surrender of a soul to a dominant force, nothing is off-limits.

Some stories started with hate. This one ended with everything.