Haunted House Novels Novels & Stories

I called after him. “I heard that.” “Good! That means you’re still in one piece.” The door shut behind him, sealing the room in comfortable, haunted silence. --- “Okay,” I said to Brenda, “step one: find the vampire sunscreen ring before he turns into royal charcoal.” The drawer slid open by itself. Inside: a gold coin etched with a sun devoured by a crescent. “Clue?” I asked. The chandelier blinked twice. “Copy that. Haunted scavenger hunt initiated.”

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.

Forgiven. My ghost hovered in that ice-cold courtyard, nearly frozen through. On New Year's Eve, fireworks cracked and boomed outside, painting the night sky in bursts of blinding gold and various colors. From the manor windows, the display was spectacular. But inside, the holiday dinner was a tomb—silent and stagnant. Father sat at the head of the table. Before him were two place settings. One was for Matthew.

She was there. Waiting. Her eyes moved over me once. Then she nodded. “Better.” I didn’t respond. I just stood there. Something still felt… off. I looked toward the hallway again. Then back at her. “What are those books?” I asked. Her expression didn’t change much. “What books?” “The ones in the other room.” A pause. Not long. But enough. “That room is not for you,” she said. Her voice didn’t rise. But it wasn’t open either.

The overhead bulbs had begun flickering badly; the house preferred candles now, and I had stopped questioning it. The first journal belonged to Margaret Harrow, 1897 great-grandniece of the builder. Her early entries were careful and lovely, full of hope about starting over. Then the tone changed. She wrote of a presence that knew her name, dreams that left her aching and wet, a “gentleman in the walls” who came to her at night and made her body sing in ways no living man ever had. She described his cock in explicit, fevered detail: a burning shadow, endless, splitting her sweetly. She wrote of being fucked for hours, of coming until she wept, of begging him to fill her cunt, her ass, her th

She smiled at me, picked a few more boxes, and moved them upstairs. Kaden spent a few hours in his office. An hour after breakfast Mrs. Raynolds came in the drawing-room and deposited three books on the coffee table, inclined her head, and left to return a few minutes later with tea. One book was a study in werewolf society, one was a history of the region and more specifically Blakewoods and the Devon family line, and the last one was the detailed duties of a Luna.

"Don’t worry. We have many other bedrooms." "Then-" and once again he cut me off. "Because I don't trust that everyone in this house has fed. I won't risk it..." He said. And with that he turned and left. Leaving me in his room...alone. I had to admit that his room was very simple. The duvets were black and white. The carpet was dark blue and the curtains dark red. He had a large desk in the corner which was stacked with the most unexpected things. Reading books! Actual leisure READING books. They ranged from horror to sci-fi. Most of them were written by a famous hunter author named Vladimir Rodriguez. Those books were mainly the "fiction" ones. They were fiction to humans, but all too real

said Celie. Nestie turned to Celie. “What do you mean ‘no one alive’?” he asked. Celie placed a hand above her mouth and laughed. “Well, Nestie. Local legends say that a woman in white haunts this house and its grounds,” explained Lisa, watching her friend’s reaction. Nestie stepped backwards and held Lisa tightly. “You mean this house is haunted?” he asked Lisa. “That’s what they say,” Lisa replied. “She is supposed to be my great-great-grand aunt,” said Celie as she stared at the open window on the upper floor. “And she died her of a broken heart.”

“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.”

I said as te two of us looked at all the books. "I know ever story of every book in here, and I'm familiar of all the contents that each book has. I've poured all of my emotions in these books and in this room," I aid as I helped Izzy put the scattered book on the floor into the box in between us, "I asked myself why I kept seeing shadows here, why I kept having creepy experiences here, and as I prayed after mom left my room, I realized something." I stood up and grabbed more books as Izzy just looked at me and followed me with her eyes. She had a look of both confusion and interest as I looked sadly at the book on my hand.