Great Horror Books Novels & Stories

In 1983 a Mrs Carson of New York was laid out in our coffin, presumed dead of hear disease. As mourners watched, she suddenly sat up, alive as you or I. Unfortunately her daughter dropped dead of fright on the spot. I don't own any of this stories. I found them in some creepy books. I'm thinking of writing my own scary stories, but not anytime soon. You can send me your short stories for a feature if you feel like it. Thanks for reading. Enjoy!I don't own any of this stories. I found them in some creepy books. I'm thinking of writing my own scary stories, but not anytime soon.

I marched straight to the house where the Swans were staying and pounded on the door. They opened the door, annoyance written all over their faces. "Spit it out!" "Where's my handbook?" I questioned. "What does that have to do with us?" Afro and the others lived just next door, and they watched us with interest. It wasn't hard to guess that they had already joined forces. They wanted to see whether losing the handbook would be the trigger that would cause any monsters to appear and devour me. That way, they could figure out how to complete the final objective of defeating the final boss.

But the fear that had been gnawing at her for days pushed her forward. She opened the book. The first pages were cold, filled with business notes and travel schedules. But as she flipped forward, the handwriting changed—it became jagged, frantic, and deeply personal. Her eyes landed on a single sentence near the end: Some ghosts don’t stay buried because they were never dead. A chill crept down her spine, turning her blood to ice. Before she could process the words, the lights throughout the estate flickered once, buzzed, and died. The house fell into absolute, suffocating darkness.

He was lying face down, and face up, all at once. I live in that house now. I am the village "fixer." And every night, I listen to the scratching beneath the floorboards. I don't fear the ones that crawl. I fear the ones that wait. Because now I know that the most terrifying thing in the world isn't death—it’s a corpse that refuses to close its eyes.

One volume called to her like a whisper against bone: *The Greater Veil: Finer Threads of Dominion* She pulled it free. The book was heavier than the black tome from her father’s library, its cover bound in something that looked like polished shadow-leather, warm to the touch. She opened it carefully. The first pages spoke of layered commands, of weaving intent so precisely that the dead obeyed without resistance, of turning even the strongest-willed undead into extensions of the caster’s will. Raven’s breath caught. She looked up at Victoria. Victoria read the title over her shoulder, then met Raven’s gaze. She squeezed Raven’s hand once—firm, reassuring—and nodded.

the Architect said, smiling cruelly, “I’m not the only one hunting you. The Board kept a hundred books on their computer. Scary stories, war stories, stories of monsters that eat stars. Now, the walls between the books are gone.” As he spoke, the alley began mixing with other worlds. Off in the distance, Maya saw a metal dragon from a space story flying above a candy forest. Ghosts from an ancient horror tale wandered through a futuristic city of glass. Everything was colliding. The long path had turned into a nightmare. “We need to go,” Julian said, grabbing Maya’s hand. “The Ghostwriter said the secret is in the title of Chapter 100. We have to reach the end before this world becomes a sto

The title sent shivers through me: 'Dark Powers, Secrets of the Werewolves'. I opened the book, and a strange glow emanated from the pages. I felt a sudden jolt, like a surge of electricity had passed through me. The room began to spin, and I fell to the ground, the book slipping from my grasp. As I struggled to get up, I heard the old woman's voice, urgent and worried. 'Ryker! Ryker, what's wrong?' She rushed into the room, her eyes scanning me frantically. Then her gaze fell upon the book, and her expression changed to one of alarm. 'Oh, no. You shouldn't have touched that.'

So you're a big Lovecraft fan? - Definitely. A thousand times more Cthulhu than any shining vampire. - She smiled. — I like some fantasy books. Writers like Laurell K. Hamilton and Patricia Briggs, who take ancient legends like vampires and werewolves and bring them to the contemporary world. There's this amazing author called SC Green who wrote these dark steampunk books set in dinosaur-infested Georgian London. My friend Derek referred me. He is always giving me new books to read. He's studying mythology, so he likes that sort of thing. — What is your favorite creature?

Not just words spilling out this time. Scenes. Creatures. Hazards. One thick volume labeled CASTLE HAZARDS struck a stone, flipped open, and vomited a swarm of translucent, wailing shapes—castle ghosts, their eyes hollow, fingers like icicles. They shrieked and arrowed toward us in a ragged storm. Another book, NEON DRONE PATTERNS, burst against a fallen shelf. Drones extruded from the pages like wasps from a nest, metal bodies shining, eyes already lighting up with target locks.