Halloween Novels Michael Myers Novels & Stories

The people at the inn will notice that something is wrong. I understood what it meant when I saw Ryson drinking blood from that maid. Feeding on humans. On weak people. I had read too many books, watched too many movies, heard too many stories about myths and legends, liked fiction very much. Where humans and vampires didn't get along. Most stories ended in romance, hate, war and death. I wondered how my story will be like seeing that my life is now twisted with these creatures. Vampires. Just saying the name creeps me out. Chills running up and down my spine like waves on the sea.

The name of the girl who had died in a cramped apartment with a phone in her hand, reading a w******l. I stared at Michael, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard it felt like it was going to break through. He knew. He was like me. He was tracking the serial lines in his head, still waiting for some magical chapter break where the author had promised a heroic turnaround for the side characters. But there was no text left. The author wasn't coming to save us. The story had run straight into the wall of a brutal winter, and we were just the garbage left behind.

Dad grabbed the nurse, throwing her out of the room alongside himself. "Well-done, Emily, you have accomplished your mission." A sinister scent emerged, a wicked laugh echoing across the room. The once blue sky was now a mixture of black and white with the moon reflecting its radiant image. Wails filled the air as a ray of light fell from the sky, hitting a mountain on the other side of town. I groaned, wincing as my hand was scorched by the flaming book. The pages settled, words in red appearing on the pages. "Strigoi, Nosferatu, Jiangshi…"

After that, I led Joyce back to our car. After the shopping spree, I chose not to let Walmart deliver the goods to my doorstep. Instead, I had the employees fill the car up with the food that I bought. After all, the neighbors would definitely suspect that something was going on if they were to notice the haul that I brought home. After the zombie outbreak, the most terrifying thing in the world wasn't the virus itself, but rather the dark side of humanity. Many survivors died in the hands of their allies during the early stage of the outbreak.

I cried for Mace, for the warmth I had lost, for the brief, beautiful dream of freedom that had been snatched away. I cried because I was back in the dark, and I knew, with a chilling certainty that settled deep in my bones, that this time, there would be no rescue. Michael had them all. Cassandra, Ellen... they were likely dead in the cabin, collateral damage to Michael’s obsession with reclaiming his property. Minutes stretched into hours. Or maybe seconds stretched into eternities. There was no time down here. There was only the dark, the cold, and the growing, gnawing terror of anticipation.

— Kaden — “First off,” I said. “My condolences.” Michael Thomas was sitting on the other side of my computer screen, next to Darren. “Thank you,” Michael said. I could hear how raw the emotions were in his voice. “What happened?” He took a few seconds to order his thoughts and emotions before he answered. “We’re not sure yet, the place was ransacked, the b—,” he took a long breath in. “The bodies,” he said his throat tight. “Were mauled. Werewolves.”

"Khalid is a cunning fox. He only tells you what he wants you to know." Facing Malcolm, Michael sighed. He'd pummeled rounds and rounds of punches into the bastard, but he wouldn't spill. His loyalty was commendable, so also was Michael's torture skills. There are many ways to kill a rat. He took slow steps to his front, and stopped directly below the light. In a snug black tee and black pants, Michael was the epitome of dread; the scary story told to force kids to sleep. The overhead light cast a deathly dense shadow on him, shielding his cold hooded blue eyes from the legal world.

Lucas grinned hungrily. Michael saw Lucas‟ mouth open revealing the inhuman teeth within, “Sweet god…this can't be!” he began to stutter prayers in Spanish. Lucas effortlessly pulled his head to one side exposing the site of the jugular vein, “Your prayers cannot help you now, Michael. You have brought your death upon yourself.” With lightning speed Lucas sunk his teeth into his neck. Jason lifted his head and grinned, showing his razor-sharp teeth hearing Michael's scream echo through the vast building then abruptly stop. Lucas had found his prey Elsa had a horrible time. The house was packed mostly with people several years older than her. Linda and Tanya got

“No doubt.” “What about those two small FedEx boxes?” “Most recent novels from Samhain Horror.” “Awesome. Those books I bought at the Webb County Library sale last week?” “Sorted into general and mystery fiction. Struck the mother lode with all those Mary Higgins Clark novels.” “We cater to all tastes, miss. Unless you like Twilight, 50 Shades of Gray or James Patterson. Folks want drivel, they can drive to Utica.” “Hey. I actually liked Twilight. It wasn’t all bad.”

Thomas assured. “Very well then: Michael Weaver is said to have been haunted or attacked by an undead, although no one has seen him since…so people assume he is dead, but I very much doubt it ” there was a hint of fondness towards this Michael from Alan’s part. He continued on with the town's gossip “some say that dead were seen on the hills towards Mrs Martin’s house, she is a lady doctor, she took care of my poor wife when she fell ill.” there was a bitter sad tone when he said that.