Horror Airbnb Stories Novels & Stories

Lydia's tone dropped almost to a whisper, Eden almost had to strain her ears to catch exactly what she was saying, fear caressing her words "It isn't just mountaineering accidents and bumps and broken bones like a usual hiking trail. There are... stories. People have been vanishing, without a trace for years in that place. Only a few have come back, and they're, well they're different, not the same people they were when they went.. The things people have said they've experienced there, Shadows of people hiding behind the trees, watching them.... Voices calling to them in the night and footsteps around their campsite. It's not a place you should be, certainly not alone" Eden almost snorted, s

I haven't made changes to anything because there wasn't time. "I've heard stories about airbnb homes," I told him. "And what kind of stories were they?" he asked, giving me a look that told me he was expecting something ominous. Well, if he could read minds, then he was good at it. Because that was exactly what I had in mind. "The horror kind. A lot of scary and crazy things happened at homes like this one. Sure you checked this one carefully?" He folded his hands across his chest as if he was getting interested in what I had to say. "Care to explain what I must have missed?"

Her expression was serious and stern. I was confused. Shopping online? “I want to stay at the Adolphus Manor, and I am trying to book a spot ahead of time, but it seems there is something wrong with my internet connection or something.” Isabella may have rejected me, but in the few hours we had spent together, she seemed to know a lot more about electronics than I did. She did most of the work for booking us an Airbnb and everything else. Even taught me the basics that I know now. “Adolphus Manor is said to host werewolves during the days leading to and on the full moon.” The old woman, Beth, blurted out, catching me off guard. “Of course that’s just the rumours going around.”

He only realized that they had reached their destination when Mary shook him. "Where are we staying?" "Right there, in the last house in the village." They began to walk, the snow road lit by the lamps in front of the doors, the houses are all closed, implying that this place was haunted. The smell of fear was clear to both of them. Upon arriving at the inn, they went straight to their rooms. There was no one at the reception, and finally Occisor breathed in relief. "So. I need more details about this serial killer."

Just hearing it made the trees outside the window blur like home was hiding behind them. “Give me the rundown again,” William said, eyes still on the road. Alexandra reached for the wrinkled sheet of paper on the dash. “So, about a month ago, this group of teenagers decided to go poking around this supposedly haunted house on the edge of town—” William cut her off. “Haunted by what?” “Allegedly,” she said, “by a spirit who hates women. Legend says it targets girls—hangs them in the rafters.” “Oh,” I said dryly. “Awesome.”

“Gem!” She dashed through each room, her heart pounding in her chest until she finally stumbled upon the horrifying scene. There lay Gem, lifeless, in a pool of blood, and her holes destroyed. It was the same as Mike and Reed. Before Red could take the next breath, the haunted mansion vanished along with her friends' dead bodies, leaving her frozen and gasping for breath. With the help of a passerby, she was able to return home. As soon as she got there, she told her mother about her pregnancy, and before her father got back from work, they escaped Hamlet together.

“Do you think it’s haunted?” My breath sticks in my chest at her words. Before I can say anything, Jack laughs. “Don’t be stupid. Of course it isn’t haunted.” “Some people think it is,” I counter. “There have always been stories about this place, about the swamp.” The woman pauses as an uneasy shadow flickers across her delicate features. “What kind of stories?” she presses. Jack once again cuts me off. “Who gives a shit?” he chuckles. “Ghosts, witches, werewolves–that’s all kid stuff. The only thing we should be afraid of is the IRS.”

But she only smiled and replied, “Maybe telling a story will reduce the fear… or maybe it will increase it.” She walked up to the stage and sat where the professor had been sitting just moments ago. The candlelight fell on her face — and her eyes glistened slightly, damp. Arya’s Story — ‘The Glass House’ “When I was seventeen, there was an old house in our neighborhood — people called it the Glass House. Maybe because its windows, walls, even the veranda were made of glass. But the strange thing was — no one was ever seen there. And yet, every night… a light would turn on inside.”

As Lucas was asleep, he was unaware that The Ender was outside the apartment. She was wandering outside, chanting a different language. It sounded like a fable or a tale. The wind blew outside the apartment, at the cliff where The Ender was walking. As she held onto the grass, she continued talking about the chants she was musing over. "THE HAUNTED HOUSE" She talked. Then, she began narrating. "Oh, Rosy! I was told that the house you bought was haunted," said Ariana, new friend of mine.

Ken asks while trying to make the conversation a little lighter. "I swear, Ken. Big huge hairy creatures that shift between men....and ugly wolf-men hybrids...They also talked about vampires at the place they held me for four days. We don't live in the world we think we do...I swear on mom. The girl I escaped with...they shot her in the back of the head. To escape from the basement I made the furnace explode...I killed people to get away from them, Kenny. I became a monster to escape monsters. I would never make that up," I declare, and Ken's eyes widen as he digests my words.