Horror Books Novels & Stories

I ask him and he stands and goes over to his bookshelves and pulls out a huge book and brings it over to desk that sits in the corner of the room. I quickly get up and moved to him wanting to see the content in the book. I look at the pages as Travis flips slowly through them and I realize every horror movie made in Hollywood was made from a creature of this book. I began to read a page and Travis went to flip the page to quickly and I reached down to stop him from flipping the page and my hand accidentally brushed his hand and chills went through my body to the tips of my toes and I turned to look at him and he was already looking at me.

I murmured, gathering my things. At Row D, I ran my fingers across worn spines: Lycanthropy and Legends, Moon-bound, The Silver Curse. My pulse quickened as I pulled a heavy volume free. I whispered to myself, “Could I really…?” “Could you really what?” a voice came from behind me. I spun to see Fiona standing there, arms folded, a curious smile on her face. “Fiona! You scared me.” “Sorry.” She peered at the book in my hand. “Werewolves? That’s… unexpected. Planning a Halloween prank?”

she murmured, tilting her head. Drawn by fascination, she found the rolling ladder attached to the bookshelf and climbed carefully. Her fingers trailed over several thick volumes—Blood Oaths and Moonlight, Fangs of Fire, The Treaty of Shadows. The illustrations on the covers were beautiful yet chilling, with fanged creatures, glowing eyes, and moons stained crimson. With great care, she pulled down four books and descended, arms full. She found the oversized reading chair near the window and curled into it, flipping open the first book.

PATHETIC DRAMATIC melted and re‑formed. SCARED CREATIVE “I made horror because I was scared,” I said. “Not because I was weak. I wrote bad things happening because bad things *were* happening, and it was the only way I could stand to look at them without going numb.” Memory flickered behind my eyes unbidden: me at thirteen, hunched over a spiral notebook while my parents argued in the next room. Me at sixteen, typing frantically after my sister had rolled her eyes at something that had gutted me. I'm hiding in horror books because at least *there is fear that had shape and rules and endings.

As he made his way across the room, he glanced at the bookshelves he passed but saw no books here that were turned upside down. Upstairs, he placed the book on an entry table in the hallway then paused, ears alert for any sounds like he’d heard this morning. Despite his love of horror, or perhaps because of it, Brad had never been easily unnerved. Scary movies, haunted trails and spook houses, most had little effect on him, and as for real life, he reserved his fear for things like disease, natural disasters, catastrophic accidents. It took more than an empty house to give him the creeps. Usually.

Maybe that is the reason why I have no problem in communicating even if I don’t talk to people much. ‘This Time I Will Not Love You' This novel sounds so hurting. I think I won’t be interested in this since I have no love life or whatsoever. ‘To The World I Wish…’ ‘Reckoning Love…’ ‘Mystery Caller' ‘Untold Secrets…’ ‘Unfolding Secrets…’ JUST WHY THE HELL DOES IT SOUNDS SO SPOOKY?!?!? “Alright let’s look for other books to read...” I tried to calm myself just to not let me feel the spookiness in the titles of the books I saw. A very interesting book caught my attention. Unlike the others, it was… handwritten.

Seeing titles like 'Minerals and Gemstones' and 'Animals of the Sahara', I knew I was in the science section. I had to search three more sections: languages, music, and mathematics, before I finally found the section that housed the books on the supernatural. At first, all the books I see are about werewolves. Walking further down the row, the topics change from werewolves to vampires to witches. At the very end of the row, in a small section, nearly invisible unless you are looking for it, stand the books about lycans. I decide to start with trying to find what ingredients may have been used in the sedative Clay gave me.

But the book is filled with shadowy creatures and monsters that feed on humans and animals alike. Letting out another loud sigh, I reached for the book and pulled it out. Even though I had wanted to drop this book and find another one that would be more accurate, I wasn't able to find another book back at home. Maybe there might be some in this castle? With the book in my hands, I walked over to the bed and sat at the edge. Placing my hand flat against the hard cover of the book, I traced it from top to bottom, wondering if I should continue reading or just stop filling my head with scary stories.

In 1983 a Mrs Carson of New York was laid out in our coffin, presumed dead of hear disease. As mourners watched, she suddenly sat up, alive as you or I. Unfortunately her daughter dropped dead of fright on the spot. I don't own any of this stories. I found them in some creepy books. I'm thinking of writing my own scary stories, but not anytime soon. You can send me your short stories for a feature if you feel like it. Thanks for reading. Enjoy!I don't own any of this stories. I found them in some creepy books. I'm thinking of writing my own scary stories, but not anytime soon.

Dannie picked up another joint from her room and went to the library. Among the ancient books was one of the largest collections of werewolf history in the world. If there was anything on Balric or the black book it was there. She gathered a variety of titles that looked promising and lit the joint. Taking a hit, Dannie opened the first book. Inside was mostly what she already knew.