Horror Creepy Stories Novels & Stories

I continuously try to stay awake but I'm struggling so in the end I succumb and drift into sleep. I can't breathe. I feel like I'm drowning. I try to scream for help but no words come out of my mouth. I'm fading but he won't let go, he's still holding me under and I decide to give up. Before I can give him the satisfaction of dying I'm pulled out the water and I feel him caressing my hair. "It's the beginning of the end. Hold my hand, I won't let you call, I shall keep you safe always." He kisses my forehead and disappears before my eyes.....

One of these—a creative writing assignment to write a horror story—proves to be just the jackpot we were looking for. Derek’s story . . . well, let’s just say it even gives me the heebie-jeebies, and that’s an accomplishment. In a nutshell, his story is about a guy infatuated with the high school cheerleader, whom he proceeds to stalk obsessively; camping out in a tree behind her house so he can watch her through her bedroom window, breaking into the house when no one is there so he can go through her sock drawer (yes, her sock drawer . . . this kid is more messed up than I realized), and otherwise just acting like a total creep. In the end, his infatuation drives him insane and he brutally

“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.

I admitted. His breath was deeper now. And I found myself speaking up. I told him about the dream where my step uncle pinned me against the wall of my childhood home, my lips parted, wrists tied. I told him how he whispered filthy things in my ear while his fingers slid between my thighs. I told him how I begged. How I cried out. How I woke trembling and wet. With every word, my body remembered. The heat. The ache. He didn't speak. But I felt him listening. When I stopped, I was breathless.

Some appeared as twisted caricatures of human beings, their features warped and contorted, while others seemed to defy description, their shapes shifting and morphing in the dim, flickering light. A sense of foreboding hung in the air, as if I had stumbled into a realm where my deepest fears had taken on tangible form. Whispers, no longer unintelligible, echoed in my ears, weaving a chilling narrative of despair and dread. They spoke of forgotten sins and vengeful spirits, their words like icy tendrils creeping into my consciousness.

Ten-year-old Bree chimed as Emma looked over her shoulder worriedly. “That’s nice, sweetie. Why don’t you tell me about that mermaid story again?” “I hate that story. Can I tell the one about the wolf?” Bran chimed in. “Wolf?” Patrick asked as Brinna looked out the window and saw another animal running alongside their vehicle. “Yeah, the one that eats the girl in the red hood.” “Mommy, I don’t like that story. It is scary.” Bree snuck at the rolling landscape and saw the scary animal with sharp teeth sneering at her, so she pretended to look forward and saw her parents exchange a look.

Nothing like a little evening walk to think things over. I live with VAMPIRES for Christ's sake!!! We're not talking about your average friendly ghost! We're speaking of evil creatures than can drink my blood up in a few minutes. I must be the heroine of a fantasy novel. There's no other way about it. Because if it's reality, I'm gonna find it difficult to stay optimistic. Or else I'm only a secondary character who's I living her last hours. The little student who gets killed at the beginning of the story, it always works to set the scene. I should be scared stiff, but instead, I want to burst out laughing... It's probably my nerves letting go! Or just plain madness.

“Do you think it’s haunted?” My breath sticks in my chest at her words. Before I can say anything, Jack laughs. “Don’t be stupid. Of course it isn’t haunted.” “Some people think it is,” I counter. “There have always been stories about this place, about the swamp.” The woman pauses as an uneasy shadow flickers across her delicate features. “What kind of stories?” she presses. Jack once again cuts me off. “Who gives a shit?” he chuckles. “Ghosts, witches, werewolves–that’s all kid stuff. The only thing we should be afraid of is the IRS.”

This was the punishment. At some point, green smoke crept in without warning. The temp plummeted. I shivered, and he slipped off his cloak, wrapping it around me. "Don't be afraid," he murmured. Afraid? Not even close. My perception glitch had me kind of... hyped. "They're back!" Mia yelled. "Grandpa and Grandma are back!" The door creaked open. Two shriveled elders shuffled in. Chat Feed went wild: [It's them. The revenants. Nobody survives past this.]

"Are you mad? If you have a death wish, go do it yourself! Don't drag us all into it!" Some of them even gestured to attack me. Just then, however, a robotic voice came out of nowhere. [Welcome to the horror scenario, Call of the Sea. Please head towards Sea Village, find the village chief, and obtain the Villager's Code of Conduct.] At that moment, a man with an afro, who shall hereby be called Afro, who seemed very experienced with scenarios, breathed a sigh of relief. "Whoof, at least this is just an A-ranked mythological scenario. As long as we follow the rules, no one's going to die."