Horror Books To Read Online Novels & Stories

she continued. I didn’t wait for further directions and headed that way. Sara was right. The library was crammed with books so rare that I didn’t even think they existed. I ran my fingers over them and stopped at the supernatural section. Werewolves. The variety of these books was astonishing. A Hidden History or Under the Full Moon. But the one that caught my attention was The Grim Howl.

I read the titles out loud. “The Devil in Silver by Victor LaValle. The October Country by Ray Bradbury. Broken Monsters by Lauren Beukes. Last Days by Brian Evenson.” I curl up my lip in disgust. “This is your reading style?” I frown. He glances up. “I like horror.” I widen my eyes. “Boring.” His jaw ticks in annoyance. “What do you like to read?” I purposely bend over, revealing my naked ass. “I like raunch.”

And are Dan Simmons books in your rich assortment of mysticism? — Our classics are on the second floor, on the outermost shelf, right next to the stairs. And Simmons... we need to look in the database. Leah headed in that direction, determined to leave today with at least a couple of collectible collections of works, including the short stories: The Dunwich Horror, The Call of Cthulhu, The Murders in the Rue Morgue, and A Premature Funeral. She read them more than once, learning them practically by heart. However, after the move, the number of her books decreased sharply and almost all the works of Alan Edgar Allan Poe and Howard Lovecraft were cut. On the one hand, those books had become di

I didn't want to have breakfast for fear of running into Darick. The door creaked as I turned the knob and entered the library. Dust particles still floated in the air, and I could barely see with the dimly lit chancellors. I walked down the aisles, holding my nose as the smell of musk filled my nostrils. I skimmed my fingers over the hardback books. Hmm, ‘Chronicles of the Blood Brothers.’ No, I don't want to read about the Blood Brothers' history. What's this? ‘Understanding your Supernatural Abilities.’

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This should be for one of the young ladies in this apartment who walk out elegantly in the morning looking like people who don't live in this old apartment. I can't dispose of the flower so I open the door and enter with it. I drop it on the table before walking slowly to my cane chair to sit, watching the view out of the window to soothe my frustration before I begin to read the new books I got. I got ten books and for once in my life, I want to give horror a try. I hope I won't end up screaming till my baby pops out of me unexpectedly. I chuckle to myself as I slouch into the chair.

She poured herself another glass of cheap red, already on her third, and dropped onto the couch in her pencil skirt and blouse, buttons half undone. The city lights through the rain-streaked windows. Her laptop was still open on the coffee table, case files glowing like accusatory little rectangles. She should sleep. Instead she reached for the dusty old book she’d bought on a drunken whim two years ago at that weird occult shop downtown. *Daemonologie for the Modern Woman.* Stupid. But tonight it felt like the right kind of stupid. She flipped it open, scanned a page at random, and slurred the words under her breath. Latin? Probably, didn’t matter.

"Reading novels seems better!" A profound silence reigned in the downstairs room where Miranda stayed, broken only by the rhythmic cadence of her breathing as she sat on the wide bed, propped up against soft pillows, a famous horror novel open in her hands. The words danced before her eyes under the warm glow of the golden bedside lamp, drawing her deeper and deeper into their dark worlds, until it seemed as if she were slipping into her haunted depths.

They were self-explanatory, and she would be able to tell which part of the book was most promising. She flipped through until she reached the back of the book with the cautionary tales. She skipped over the first one about Lysander, and the next few didn't seem promising either. Story after story passed by, and she was about to give up and read it closely for hints . . . until the very last section. Her fingers froze, her breath caught in her chest, and horror coursed through her veins as she read the title of the section: 'Blood Magic and the Creation of the Vampire-Human Child'

My eyes fell on a shelf, and I could see the most ancient books there. I grabbed one that looked strange among them. Then I leaned against a wall to read it calmly. The brown leather cover was torn from the corner of the book. As I opened it, I realized the edges of the pages were black with soot. 'This is weird,' I muttered. 'Someone tried to destroy this book. But who?'” ​I flipped to the first page and my heart stopped. Three words stared back at me… "Hell of Lycans." I gasped, the sound echoing through the silent library.