Romans & histoires Horror Bedtime Stories

The night was cold, and I feared they would catch a cold, but they began to cry out loud on the road. People began to stare, so I had gotten them the ice cream. When they got home, I prepared for them a nice warm shower, and dressed them, making them ready for bed. “I'm craving a bedtime story, Mommy.” Nadia said, as I tucked them in. “I'll tell you one tomorrow. I'm exhausted, okay? What do you think about two bedtime stories tomorrow?” I asked, as a bribe. “Oh yeah! I want Rapunzel and Sleeping Beauty.”

"We woke you up, didn't we? Come on, let's go back to bed. Sorry, Logan, but please wait for a moment." She held Maya's hand and walked toward a bedroom. "Alright, Mommy is going to tell you a bedtime story, okay? So you can go to sleep safe and sound and snug. How about the one with the astronaut?" She began. "The astronaut is standing in the space station. Outside the window, he sees the limitless expanse of space. Then, suddenly, hears the sound of someone knocking on the window—" "It's a ghost! A ghost! The ghost is outside the window, right?!"

“Good night!” I ended the call and looked out the kitchen window. The weather was only getting worse. I’m really scared to sleep during storms—not because of thunder, but because of something that happened in my childhood… Maria and I once secretly watched a horror movie about zombies, and it all started on a night just like this — heavy rain, strong wind, thunder… Ever since, I’ve had trouble falling asleep during storms. “Deep in thought, huh?” The sudden voice startled me. I turned around.

She finally blinked, turning away from me to grab the broom from the corner of the kitchen without making eye contact. “It's a myth,” she muttered, her back still turned. “A myth,” I repeated, not buying it for a second. “An old one.” She swept the broken glass into a neat pile, her movements tight and forced. “The elders used to tell it to the pups to keep them from wandering out into the woods at night. A scary name, a scary story. That's all it is.” “So I just happened to have a horrific nightmare about a bedtime story I've never even heard before?”

But still, my eyelids are absolutely reluctant to close. As I lay there staring blankly at the ceiling, I suddenly remembered Javier’s collection of horror books. That’s right. A while back, I’d idly picked up one of his scary stories. Since I’m actually a scaredy-cat, every time I read one of those horror stories, I’d immediately be scared out of my wits and end up falling asleep from emotional exhaustion.

She asked with a grin in his direction. "Better," he laughed. One time he had helped her in arranging the entire library with his magick. She was impressed. "Mama Bora, you look as beautiful as ever. I - I have a favor to ask." When he stopped, she waved her spongy, withered hands at him in a gesture to go on, "We are doing a project about local lore, myths and legends. Do you have any book suggestions on it? Especially something that talks about with nightmares or dreams?" He sounded too vague even to himself, but Mama Bora's eyes became dazed for a second and then clearer as she nodded to herself. "Also one about shapeshifters."

"Too scary daddy!! Tim declared and hid himself under the quilt. Lee followed suit. They covered themselves and didn't even let their head out. Junxie Li stood up and went away. The story was indeed scary and that was all he could think of and quickly made up to tell them. Aren't they the ones who wanted a bedtime story before they could sleep. He sat on the sofa in the sitting room. And less than twenty minutes later, Ms Diddy walked out of the room. "Are they asleep?" Junxie Li asked and Ms Diddy nodded. "Since I don't know which fairy story their mother told them halfway, I sang them a poem and they drifted off to sleep.

Before there were doors between worlds, there were stories. They whispered from hearth to hearth and ship to ship— of wolves that ran like midnight wind, of foxes with nine tails and nine more tricks beyond that, of fae who looked like carved moonlight and smiled like knives. Humans loved those stories—as long as they stayed in books and bedtime. The moment a story breathed, the moment a pair of eyes glinted from a tree line or a shadow stepped out of the corner of a room, humans did what humans do best when they’re afraid.

“What else have you heard?” Too much. Too much poison dressed up as bedtime stories. Garrett Monroe—my father, the only family I had left—used to slur those horror tales into my ears whenever he was drunk. Stories about sharp-toothed beasts who dragged children from their beds and devoured them whole. Creatures who wore human skin by day but hunted by moonlight. At the time, I thought he was warning me. Trying to protect me in his own twisted, broken way. But now? Now I don’t know.

“Were these any help, detective?” “I’m afraid not,” I said, defeated. I was in a bit of a daze after staring at projected newsprint on the dim screen. I leaned on the desk and looked around the building absentmindedly until my eyes finally settled on a small sign hanging on a table covered with a neat stack of books. “Warning: The Library is Not Responsible for Nightmares!” I read out loud, walking over to look at the books. Well-worn volumes with pink skulls grinning back at me from stickers on their spines. Dracula. Frankenstein. The Invisible Man.