Histoire D'horreur Novels & Stories

I have only 3 days left before miss Lauretta throws me out. I went to collect the bill for his meal,his girlfriend is a talkative. She talks like a parrot,I made to collect it as soon as my hands touched his,I felt a tingling sensation, I quickly took the money and left. He stood up and left. I counted the money,while counting it I saw a note.. "COUNTRY CITY MALL...7PM" Oh my god he left a note,he wanted to see me. I contemplated going. I didn't know him enough but, risks are meant to be taken .

'Two days ago' Why Did they send me to get something from Dad's office when I hadn't entered it for years. I kept on searching for the papers Jack asked me to find but there was a specific drawer that felt weird… too weird. I took the ruler that Dad always kept in the office and placed it on the side of the floor of the drawer and pushed a little… bingo! I was right, there was another layer beneath it and there was a book with only a few French words written on the red leather cover. L'histoire d'une femme morte. Which in English meant : The story of a dead woman.

Miranda swallowed hard before answering, her voice trembling. Everything was normal… until that day. I was asleep in my room when I woke from a nightmare—blood everywhere, murder, terror. At first, I thought it was just a dream, but soon Mr. Hussein and his wife started having the same visions. Sophia, too. No one in the villa was safe anymore. Fear gripped us. We saw shadows, figures haunting us. I saw one myself in my room. Doors slammed shut for no reason. Strange noises rose from every corner. And when night fell… the house turned into a nightmare. Voices, screams, movements. They only disappeared when we turned on the lights.

screamed Anthony, terrified, “you need to see this.” Hansly and Dmitri ran to a room around the corner of the hallway to see the rest of the men gathered inside a large study. It was the smell that caught Dmitri first. A thick, unbreathable stench of death filled his nostrils which closed his throat and his eyes stung. He made his way into the study and knew that this memory would be burnt into his brain for as long as he breathed. Headless torsos stripped of most of their flesh hung on the walls along with decaying arms, legs and heads like trophies, paintings made with blood glued to the walls and even photographs of Werewolves, Vampires, Witches and other supernatural beings being torture