Horror Fiction Novels & Stories

" I stayed silent, but that did not deter them. They started ramming the door. I pressed my back against it, looking at my unconscious mother in the bedroom, and closed my eyes. A living hell on earth was worse than any horror game. When humans start killing each other, they were more terrifying than monsters. ... Meanwhile, a group of bosses gathered in the empty supermarket, staring at each other in confusion. "Uhm, where's Ms Thrushwood?" one of them asked. "She's always punctual. Even on restock days when the shop's closed, she tells us ahead of time," another commented.

I take my food to the lounge to eat while watching TV. When I'm not dancing, I'm cooking and watching series. Mostly thriller and suspense. Believe me, I get scared, but thriller is better than horror. It's mostly blood and guns but with horror? You'll come across creatures that don't even exist yet feel real because of how scary they are. You'll believe there's a Darkasher somewhere out there.

Winter nights were the worst. So yeah—having a room of my own? Felt unreal. I walked up to the bedroom door, didn't hesitate at all, knocked hard, and shouted, "Hey! I haven't eaten in forever! Feed me or I'm gonna pass out!" The Chat Feed lost it. [Is she trying to die? Who knocks like that in a horror game? Something's gonna jump out and eat her.] [No way she's that calm. She's faking it.] [I bet her fear rating hits 100 in three seconds. Let's watch her die.]

Her pulse thunders in her ears, and it takes precious moments for the residual terror to subside in the tiniest sense of it. In the eerie stillness of the night, Marisol clutched at the sheets, her heart racing wildly owing to the scare of the nightmare that had taken a few nights off, only to return stronger than it would seem. The vivid imagery of the beast persists even behind her closed lids, haunting her waking moments as she grapples with the remnants of the surreal horror that had unfolded in her dreams.

Anxiety gripped my heart, and I knew something was amiss. As I closed my eyes, my mind was consumed by a torrent of nightmares, each more horrifying than the last. I found myself trapped in a labyrinth of twisted corridors, where the walls whispered secrets and the floor seemed to shift beneath my feet. I stumbled through the darkness, a sense of impending danger haunting my every step. Shapes distorted and twisted, morphing into grotesque creatures that lurked in the shadows. Their glowing eyes bore into my soul, filling me with an unyielding dread. I tried to scream, but my voice was stolen by the suffocating darkness that enveloped me.

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.

I grinned. Rina snorted. “I’m a little annoyed by people trying to turn classic literature into horror shit.” Kimi and I looked at her in surprise. “So, you prefer pure horror?” I asked. Rina rolled her eyes. “Have you met your sister? She’s all about the jump scares and psychological thrillers.” I wrinkled my nose. “So is your brother. I’m not going to lie, Blood and Chocolate and Warm Bodies were a compromise. As was Shaun of the Dead.”

hskk. “What is that sound?..” the surroundings were quiet, but I could hear a sound as if something was cracking 3:00 am At exactly 3 am, a strange black shadow suddenly appeared in the corner of her room! “Who are you? What are you doing here in my GF’s room !?” the shape of the shadow slowly formed and gave the appearance of a large hairy man. “A Kapre!!” (Kapre is a Filipino horror myth that appears like a person with a hairy body and a face of an ancient people)

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.

Willa sprinted into the elevator, her eyes widening with fear and her fingers clutching her bag firmly for support. As a horror writer, one would think she was accustomed to such surroundings and may have even enjoyed them, but that was far from the truth. Willa hated everything about ghosts and haunted houses, and even the sight of too much blood drove her insane. The horror genre felt like a gift; she was so good at it and had written over thirty bestselling novels, but in reality, her fears had been portrayed in every character she created. As the elevator dinged, she sighed in relief and rushed out. She quickly searched her bag for her key, but as her hand touched the doorknob, the door