Horror Bedtime Stories Novels & Stories

“The myth of the night where the Great vampire prince, awakens. The one who has the ability to make the dead undead?” “I don’t believe in those legends or myths, Garza. I’ll just see my parents as soon as possible and be done with it,” I replied him. “You might not believe it, child. But be careful, for whoever awakens him, becomes his bride till eternity,” I scoffed at his words, breathing it off and leaving Julian with him as he had bad feeling about literally everything. Here is me now, presently. I’m trying not to be scared because from my experience in horror movies, ghosts didn’t made people die. It was themselves.

When her mother was lulling her to sleep that night, she read the expression on her face and interpreted it right-Fear "What are you scared of?" She asked softly "What I'll see on the night before my birthday" she answered with a small voice. "Don't worry, it won't be bad this time, I'll pray for you" and then her mother prayed until she fell asleep.

Brandon dismissed the nannies and told them he was going to put them to sleep. “Daddy, Please tell us a bedtime story,” Audrey said and Brandon nodded in response. He told them his favorite bedtime story, the magic prince and the werewolf girl. It was his favorite bedtime story when he was still a child, his mom always told him the story every night before he slept. Oh, he misses his mom so much. He wondered if she was still alive. He quickly shook off the thoughts, he had the feelings deep down that his mom was still alive and he was going to do anything in his power to find her.

I keep the pocketknife hidden and wait for my chance to stab the wolf with it. Even though it’s harder to see and move about the forest, I’m glad we travel at night and catch sleep by day. Because my dreams are so bad when the sun is up, I’m scared of how terrible they’ll be at night. Some of my nightmares seem to follow me even when my eyes are open. I watch as my parents and Max die over and over again. As the monster gets inside the shed and finds us. But most of all it’s glowing eyes and screams that haunts my dreams worst of all. CeCe asks about our parents and Max less and less, and I’m scared she’s starting to forget them already.

I couldn’t go back to sleep, I was scared of my own mind, having an overactive imagination turned to be a curse in lonely nights, every sound, every murmur my brain translated and turned into a monster hiding in the darkness. “A story, but you are the writer between the two of us,” she says in a reply with a chuckle, she’s right usually I’m the one who makes up the stories, I’m the author, and I’m really proud about it. “I know, but tonight, I need you to do it,” I say in a sad voice, it was more of a whisper, I can’t tell her a story, not with how scared I’m feeling right now, my story would be one about ghosts, fear, demons that lurk outside your home and not the one under the bed ready to

Christian nodded yes and I grabbed and tickled him until he couldn’t laugh anymore. “Okay let’s see what this story is about.” I took the book and read to him while he lay next to Adara and held her hand. His eyes closed at the fourth paragraph and I read two more to make sure he was sleeping. We kissed him goodnight on his forehead and left the night light on. Some nights he was afraid of the dark and other nights it didn’t bother him at all. I wasn’t worried. It was normal for kids to be afraid of the dark. Especially if they saw a dead woman in it talking to them.

Tonight was our first official sleepover in the treehouse, and we'd dragged up sleeping bags, flashlights, and enough snacks to last a week. "Tell me a scary story," Avy said, settling into her sleeping bag. "I don't know any scary stories." "Make one up." "Okay, um..." I pointed my flashlight at my face for dramatic effect. "Once upon a time, there was a girl who read so many books that her eyes fell out." "That's not scary, that's stupid." "Fine. There was a boy who was so bad at football that the football grew teeth and ate him." Avy giggled. "You're terrible at this."

The evil ones. The kind of bedtime stories mothers whispered to keep their children from wandering past the watchtowers after nightfall. Stories I'd dismissed as folklore meant to frighten the young and gullible, nothing more than superstition wrapped in shadow. Yet here one stood, in my bedroom, as real as the floorboards beneath my feet.

“All the other kids are listening,” “You don’t like horror stories,” I reminded him, but that flew over his head. “I’m grown,” he placed both hands on his waist, giving a superman pose. “See?” he smiled. “I won’t sleep with you tonight,” I said, trying to discourage him, but Elvis was stubborn. “I believe you, little rascal. Let’s go listen to some horror stories,” Arthur said, taking Elvis’ hand. Arthur looked over his shoulder with a grinning face. I guessed they both met their match. Back with everyone, we sat around a large campfire as everyone told their horror stories.

"Don't mind him Mum. You should also go to bed." "Me? Nah. It's too early. I slept for nineteen years remember?" "Come on. That's guilt tripping me." Sue whines and Holly laughs. "Fine. I will, but on one condition. You'll let me tell you a bedside story." She smiles, her smile holding a hint of sadness. Sue understands and nods, intertwining her hand with Ford's. "You'll read US bedtime stories. Come on." Soon enough, Ford and Sue are under the covers while Holly is holding an a old children book. "I hope you can read horror because I'm about to scare the pants off this little children." Holly sniggers and starts reading.