Novel & Cerita Horror Creepy Stories

by the time the sun shimmers at the horizon behind me and the crescent moon dips below the horizon before me, I have thought of every word I know of to describe really, really, really boring walking. There is absolutely nothing here. I think of the stories we told each other when we were pups. About wraiths that lived beneath the sand of the Barren that would pull you down into their nests. They would paralyze you and then their grubs would feed off you, slowly eating you alive. That was a favorite. There are the roaming packs of wilder-scorpions, creatures that are half beast, half scorpion. Where the beast's tail should be is a scorpion's sting that will cause your skin to turn black and t

I darted my eyes away quickly-- "You promised," Al said all of a sudden. "What?" I paused in surprise. "No question asked," Al smirked, holding out his hand to me. I was grateful that he didn't ask into it. Night fell. So the thing about horror stories is that-- The fear kicks in only at dark nights when you are alone, not when you are at the crowded theater or on the bright street. Meaning-- I couldn't fall asleep that night. Turns out it's a bit hard to fall asleep when you don't close your eyes because you feel the need to stare at everything with alert.

Heather screamed as the dreaded liquid entered her mouth, and she puked. Gathering her energy, she called for the intruder. “Who is there?” The footsteps rushed on the floor above her. Heather heard them clearly. She opted to analyze where they went. ‘Was someone conspiring to kill her?’ She mused. Eager to find the culprit, she signed her fear away for the night and ambled ahead into the harrowing tragedy awaiting her. The sky thundered, but Heather kept going forward with short and hesitant steps, her maxi dress flew with the breeze. Holding the sides in her fists, she continued her mission to search for the terror that surrounded the mansion. She scrutinized every nook and corner. Her hea

An unimpressive number had racked up in the brief morning hour since she left the parking lot. She tapped her memo app and scrolled through her half-constructed blog post ideas: the tragic devolution of vampires in the horror genre; the best and the worst of the found footage horror explosion; the best indie horror out of this year’s film festival circuit; scream queens to watch, the new horror badasses and final girls. She tapped her nail on the edge of her phone case as she formulated the sentences in her mind. Then the phone vibrated against her palm. Brady: And the likes keep coming!

As I stepped out and fumbled for my towel, a spooky creak scraped along the doorframe, sending a jolt of fear through my veins. Gosh, why did I do this to myself? I had this terrible habit of reading horror stories and spending sleepless nights huddled under the covers in fear. And then it came again, the same scraping noise but followed by muffled, ominous laughter. It was definitely not my overactive imagination. Did someone else use this room when I wasn't around at night? Goosebumps erupted across my already prickling skin as I slowly opened the door a sliver to look. It was only a quarter past nine, too early for ghosts to come out. At least in the stories I read, they waited till midni

It sounded as though they were coming straight at him but luckily for him the cause of the snarling sounds were stopped by a strong massive iron bars on both side just as the hands of the snares stretches out to him with their eyes glowing red and their bodies darkened-rotten. “What are this?!” Node asked just as Peirce looked at his sides in awe. “I know a little knowledge about them. They’re called creepers, strange yet common beings infesting the Nymphs Kingdom as we speak, but this is weird, what are they doing in this part of the region?... Hmmm. Frankenstein with his ambition.” “Now do you still believe her? She’s luring us to a trap, maybe a push-button somewhere will do in opening up

“Don’t worry Evan, this will get back to you soon enough. You’ll get to respond to everything. Okay, I tried calling the other locations called Helencia, and I either received no response because the locations didn’t understand what I was talking about, or the phone numbers no longer worked. This means if we travel through the other realm. We don’t know if we can safely leave through the other portals. In an effort to keep up with our changing needs, I’ve ordered packs for us with simple survival gear that should work in the other realm without too much interference from magic. Now onto the library research, we’ve got our hands full. The deaths appear to happen in cycles. Each death is diffe

Halloween always brought out the weirdos, but I didn’t expect to be one of them, out here alone in the middle of nowhere, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and decay. My boots crunched on the gravel path, the barn looming ahead, its weathered wood silhouetted against the crimson sky. The rumors called it haunted, a place where people vanished on Halloween night, but I figured it was just small-town nonsense. Still, my heart pounded, a mix of adrenaline and unease. The wind rustled the corn, whispering like it was alive, and I swore I heard something—a low growl, deep and primal, cutting through the night. I froze, camera dangling, my breath visible in the chilly air. The growl came

Well, I can't fuck myself, someone has to do the fucking" I replied. He chuckled. I returned to his cock, sucking like a slut in heat. I made sexual sounds to excite him; years of watching p**n and reading erotic stories had taught me that men love hearing erotic moans from women, even if they are just for effect, not because my pussy is actually getting stimulated. The New York best selling romantic novels were my best companions during my college days.

Before there were doors between worlds, there were stories. They whispered from hearth to hearth and ship to ship— of wolves that ran like midnight wind, of foxes with nine tails and nine more tricks beyond that, of fae who looked like carved moonlight and smiled like knives. Humans loved those stories—as long as they stayed in books and bedtime. The moment a story breathed, the moment a pair of eyes glinted from a tree line or a shadow stepped out of the corner of a room, humans did what humans do best when they’re afraid.