Horror Collections Novels & Stories

"I'm glad you like it. So, what do you like to do in here all day?" Lora looked through the opened oak door, her gaze lingering on each shelf and cabinet. "I...I like to collect vampire relics," she said, her voice quiet. "I like to think about where they came from and who owned them before me. I like to imagine stories about them." "That's really cool," I said, impressed. "Do you have a favorite object in here?"

A quick fade to black opened to a messy office, with a few desks covered in phones, screens, papers, paper cups, even empty takeout packaging. The walls didn’t leave room to wonder what it was: they were pretty much covered in Haunters big posters from every season, plus two long shelves with plaques and awards. It was Brandon’s small production company headquarters.

If your body doesn't lay in a Cemetery, it means you succumbed in a very tragic way, and your body couldn't be found. No one expected it, no one wanted it, but that night, the same night that Jonah was buried, a bell rang. Once, twice, three times, until the ringing seemed not to stop, and it was impossible to know when a ringing began or ended. It was barely eight o'clock at night when the bell started ringing. Everyone in the village was terrified by that incessant sound because they knew where it came from, and they also knew what they had done. They were afraid that this monster was alive and wanted revenge.

Minnow spitted venomously with lips curled over teeth. Saylor's glare fell on his lap, and his shoulders slumped. He knew better than to try to speak to her at this moment. "We recruit a new hunter each year," Cecil said calmly over his shoulder. "Hunter? What do we hunt?" Minnow turned to her father for answers. "Well, we hunt, um." He stuttered. His eyes searched his wife. Dovie rolled her eyes. " We hunt werewolves and other supernatural beings," she said simply without batting her perfectly styled eyelids. Instead, she continued flicking through the stack of papers in front of her.

“Horror games are a survival hell. It’s not your fault. But from now on, we need to focus on finding clues as fast as possible.” The guy with glasses nodded and agreed. “The banquet lasts two hours. During that time, all NPCs stay in the banquet hall. We have to use that window to search for the exit. Once the banquet ends, they’ll start wandering around randomly. If they catch us, we die. So after that, we have to stay hidden.”

All I have to do is ignore them, and I'll be fine. -------------------------------- "I really hate being in the library." Hilary complained. They were sent to the library to research about the history of their town through old newspaper articles. "Shut up, and help us. Come on." Henry, her twin brother said. "Hey, guys. Look at this." Xavier found a news article dated thirty years ago." Xavier announced. Everyone gathered around him, except for Landon. "Young boy found dead at the boy's locker room?" Olga read title of the headline.

The two demons were still laughing when the mirror bled pure red. Thick black smoke poured out from the glass like oil, spilling across the bedroom floor. From that darkness, three more figures stepped forward, making it five in total. These weren’t men anymore. They were tall, horned nightmares — curved black horns scraping the ceiling, red eyes burning like coals, muscles rippling under skin that looked scorched. Their cocks were obscene: thick as wrists, veined like twisted ropes, heads flared and leaking heavy, glowing precum that dripped in long sticky strands onto the floor with wet plops.

After exiting the mirror maze, a long hallway awaited. Sean and Suzan stood at the end of the hallway. "I'm surprised at how soon you escaped the maze. "Welcome to my collection room. I have meticulously gathered these collections over a few decades. Please feel free to look around." Larissa nonchalantly looked around at his collections, which were encased in glass covers. However, Larissa wouldn't classify those as collections. There were baby specimens in every glass cover! Some were mummified, while some were soaked in formalin. But they were all deformed, premature babies.

I folded my lips and smacked them. "It's a Horror movie," I say simply. "Really," Vy says perking up at the word horror and I nodded. "We can watch it sometime together," I suggested, and she smiled nodding her head hastily. "Werewolves are the things that are not real. I'm 100% sure Annabelle is, I search it and they have the real doll and the other haunted items in some museum in Monroe," I gave her a dumbfounded look. "I can admit that werewolves are not real but come on," I say chuckling.

“If she’d stayed pure embodiment, none of this would be necessary.” I have to choose but both versions of me are terrified of losing ourselves to the other. Then the gap tears open and something enters that makes everyone stop arguing. The Collectors return. Not the multiversal ones I destroyed, but older Collectors, the originals who created the collection system before realities diverged. “We’ve been observing this crisis,” they announce. “Death becoming negotiable, Death’s Keeper fracturing, reality facing Reset. We’re offering solution.” “What solution?” both versions of me ask simultaneously.