Halloween Creepy Stories 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.

It infuriated Cassy more—with the night that’s the homecoming of the ghosts and horrors. A wicked laugh itched to be out, instead, she scrutinized the height. The distance between her and the ground did not harrow her. It amazed her at how different she’s lurking around where the normal people might not even stare without a wave of nausea washing over them. An urge to smoke-filled her; she fetched a pack from the inside pocket of her dark blue jacket; ignited the flame, mumbling, “Every legendary story is a pent-up frustration of human beings to invoke fear in the minds of those whom they hate. Several against one or one against many.”

WITH ONLY one day left to Halloween, the people of Cape Cod were already setting into the mood of the Oktoberfest event. House yards were filled with spooky figures like white cloths to represent ghosts and the jack-o'-lanterns of course. Jake had stashed the book inside a compartment in his room, hoping the degenerate creatures of the dark would not find it. Certainly, there had to be a way to destroy all of them with the book and not just lifting it up in front of them when they showed up.

Crowburn. The town is said to have been built right above hell itself. "There is a myth about this town that every 100 years on Halloween night, demons from the very pits of hell come up to the earth and roam the streets, blending into the disguised populous searching for the perfect bride for their Prince. The Prince of Darkness himself. It is believed that the women die as they are never seen again, and every year, the demons return for more women." the woman speaking, my grandma pursed, taking a sip of water before continuing.

I admitted. His breath was deeper now. And I found myself speaking up. I told him about the dream where my step uncle pinned me against the wall of my childhood home, my lips parted, wrists tied. I told him how he whispered filthy things in my ear while his fingers slid between my thighs. I told him how I begged. How I cried out. How I woke trembling and wet. With every word, my body remembered. The heat. The ache. He didn't speak. But I felt him listening. When I stopped, I was breathless.

Warning: This chapter contains scenes that might be upsetting for some readers. Read at your own risk. It's eight p.m. Everything is dark, the moon is at its peak, and there are no signs of humans in the streets. Near the streets, there's a small, rugged creepy house. It's far from town, so people don't usually notice this house. It is surrounded by enormous pine trees, grassy lands, and black ravens. Some people believe that ghosts live in that house because the people who tried to enter that house died.

I made my way between the cars towards the back of the building. “You know this is a special night, don’t you?” Wisps of fake fog curled and puffed off the stage as he strutted back and forth. “Halloween. All Hallows? I can tell ya it means a lot more than just stuffing fun-size Snickers in your face. Tonight’s the night the world of the dead overlaps with the world of the living. That means if you’re ever going to see a ghost, tonight’s your night!

Halloween always brought out the weirdos, but I didn’t expect to be one of them, out here alone in the middle of nowhere, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and decay. My boots crunched on the gravel path, the barn looming ahead, its weathered wood silhouetted against the crimson sky. The rumors called it haunted, a place where people vanished on Halloween night, but I figured it was just small-town nonsense. Still, my heart pounded, a mix of adrenaline and unease. The wind rustled the corn, whispering like it was alive, and I swore I heard something—a low growl, deep and primal, cutting through the night. I froze, camera dangling, my breath visible in the chilly air. The growl came

For this town is special, and its citizens terrifying. Mrs. Hagatha Belfry stepped out of her front door and onto the porch with a cup of tea in hand. Throughout the town, even though it was winter and snowy in the surrounding wood, autumn leaves sprouted from every limb of every branch of every tree, and the fallen leaves were replaced by new leaves overnight. Lilith’s Hollow is graced by the autumn season all year round, thanks to a witch’s spell from one who lived in town long before Mrs. Belfry’s centuries of residency there. After all, this was the town that Halloween built. Mrs. Belfry, along with all of the werewolves, zombies, mad doctors, monsters, ogres, and more mythical creatures

“About the swamp being haunted?” I nod. Even though we hadn’t grown up together, I’m pretty sure that we both had gotten the same tired ghost stories passed around in the hallways about such places around our hometowns. “I know this sounds crazy, but what if the stories are true?” Her tone is fervent, and her eyes shine with a hot certainty. “Not the witches and stuff. But there is something there, and I think…” She draws in a deep, steadying breath. “I think it’s a demon.”