Horror Fiction Books Novels & Stories

I can play you songs and read you audiobooks…’ ‘Okay. Okay, Alexa. If you can’t get me to work or get me food, you’re pretty much useless.’ She jabbed. ‘Technically, I can order an uber and pizza. McDonald’s and Starbucks too.’ ‘This is so cool. Maybe, you could read me an audiobook just before I fall asleep tonight.’ ‘What kind of books do you like?’ the VA asked. ‘Young Adult, romance, horror, mystery, crime…’ ‘According to a recent survey, people who read lots of horror tend to act out what they read. Often times, they try to imitate the villain in the book and…’

But please just hear me out. ‘I won’t. Why must I listen to you? Do you want to narrate the gruesome details of your evil deeds? I refuse to listen to any more of your lies. And I’m not staying with you tonight. Just let me take my things.’ Anna sounded more frightened of me than angry. She was going on like I was some psychopathic retard with killer instinct.

They were monsters, created to plant nightmares in people's heads and this sight would cause Maddox again one or two sleepless nights, because before someone had put a bullet in this Iuba, he had ripped the blond woman's throat out . Maddox gritted his teeth and jumped over them outside into the garden and into a bloody hell. There were screams, wails, and sounds of pain. The Iubas growl and bite filled the air. There were so many that at first glance he couldn't see them all, but what he saw were the two little, red-haired girls on the hedge in front of the fence. And also the big Iuba, who jumped straight at her.

She shrugged, a little awkwardly. I smiled back, wanting to put her at ease. “Thank you, Sie. I really appreciate it.” We flicked through some new books and papers while we waited for the pizza to arrive. They were all much the same – long, winding documentation of vampire sightings from the Victorian era, many of which were clearly allegories for something else, like impudent women or the fear of industrialisation.

Maybe it all came from the lingering frustration about every little thing since my little family reunion at school. I tried not to think about it. Or anything else in particular but as you know it’s quite hard to keep your mind blank, so yeah, not much luck. I switched on the lamp beside my bed taking out my Creatures of the Moon book, I was reading something about Wendigos the last time if I could recall well. Vicious creatures, I tell you. These were the true creatures of the night. More deadly than vampires in my opinion. I sighed through the pages buying out time, as the minutes whisked away.

“The novel’s title is Shocking Shocked, and it tells the story of a guy who was electrocuted after disclosing shocking news?” I bit the bottom of my lip. “Well... It’s one of my favorite novels.” She slapped herself across the forehead. “Dainty! We should not read novels like these. I assumed you were interested in romantic novels, so I let you read books, and then I’ll know that you’re reading about terror and murder novels?!” My mouth was closed. What can I do if I’m not a fan of romance novels? Horror, mystery, and psychological stories are my favorite, and not romance. When I read a romantic novel, my whole body convulses. They simply do not appeal to me.

Like I was shopping for bedtime stories instead of trying to decide whether my life had cracked open into impossibility. “Thank you,” I murmured. The folklore section was tucked into a quiet corner near a window that looked out toward the forest. Of course it did. The books there were a strange little army: weathered hardcovers, thin local history pamphlets, glossy paperbacks with titles involving moons and curses and women who looked poorly dressed for weather. I started with the serious looking ones. Northern Appalachian Folk Beliefs, Predator Myths of the American East, Silver, Salt, and Blood: Ritual Materials in Regional Lore. I pulled them down one by one, making a stack against my che

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.

I hope I do not end up screaming so loudly that my baby decides to make an early entrance into the world. I have always preferred romance novels over any other genre. There is something comforting about them, even if they do not always reflect reality. Horror, on the other hand, fills me with dread. It gives me a wild imagination, and I often end up with nightmares after reading or watching anything scary. I remember the times in school when my roommates would roll their eyes at me during horror movies because I could not stop screaming. Eventually, they would kick me out of the room, and I would miss the rest of the movie. The memory makes me giggle, though it is tinged with a hint of nosta

“No doubt.” “What about those two small FedEx boxes?” “Most recent novels from Samhain Horror.” “Awesome. Those books I bought at the Webb County Library sale last week?” “Sorted into general and mystery fiction. Struck the mother lode with all those Mary Higgins Clark novels.” “We cater to all tastes, miss. Unless you like Twilight, 50 Shades of Gray or James Patterson. Folks want drivel, they can drive to Utica.” “Hey. I actually liked Twilight. It wasn’t all bad.”