Horror Novel Novels & Stories

Then I threw them into the room where Nicole was being held. Seeing her bulging eyes and tongue stretched three feet long, they slammed desperately on the door in terror. No one said a word. All they could do was repeatedly use the knives I threw inside to kill Nicole—who could resurrect endlessly. And Nicole, using her long tongue, continued forcing them into desperate corners. By the time I went to collect the remains, the room reeked of blood so thick it stung the nose. There was not a single trace of human tissue left—only pools of blood and minced flesh.

A branch in its endless, gnarled roots. And then, the darkness fractured. Light. It was a flicker, a sudden flash of brightness that felt like fire on his skin. Ben’s eyes snapped open, and he gasped, pulling in air that tasted like ash. His body jerked with the instinct to flee, but there was nowhere to run. He was still on the cold ground, but the forest was no longer just an empty abyss. It was a labyrinth, a twisted landscape of trees with faces carved into their trunks, eyes staring out at him, watching, waiting.

“Castle. Vampires. Throne with issues.” “Vampires,” he echoed. “Right. Should’ve expected that.” He tilted his head. “You write horror?” I blinked. “What?” “You said ‘horror,’” he pointed out. “Unless you meant your life, in which case—relatable.” A reluctant smile tugged at my mouth. “Both, technically,” I said. “But yes. I… wrote horror. Online mostly. Short stories. Flash. Some longer stuff. Nobody important read them.” “Clearly somebody did,” he said, gesturing vaguely at the bus, the windows, the [KEY AUTHOR CANDIDATE: FLAGGED] that had flso long ago. “But hey, that’s metal. My mom hated scary movies; she’d have lost her mind over you.”

Because he had just been ripped apart. I turned around slowly and stared at the “pet” who had done the ripping. He still had blood on his face, but somehow looked… innocent. “I was hungry,” he murmured. Maybe it was my imagination, but his pupils looked a little sharper than before. [Wow. Trying to slut-shame someone in a horror dungeon? He had it coming.] [Pop the champagne. Ding-dong, the jerk is dead.] [Lol the stans are out. She can sleep with monsters but nobody can call her out?]

1, edited by Joe Mynhardt Fear the Reaper, edited by Joe Mynhardt For the Night is Dark, edited by Ross Warren Short story collections: Dead Reckoning and Other Stories by Dino Parenti Things You Need by Kevin Lucia Frozen Shadows and Other Chilling Stories by Gene O’Neill Varying Distances by Darren Speegle The Ghost Club: Newly Found Tales of Victorian Terror by William Meikle Ugly Little Things: Collected Horrors by Todd Keisling Whispered Echoes by Paul F. Olson

"When did you become experienced? Weren't you just saying you were a novice?" "I did my homework," Chloe said with a wink. "This manor has four floors. The first floor is relatively safe, home to some of the gentler spirits. The second is a bit more dangerous, and the third is pretty terrifying." "What about the fourth floor?" the guy in glasses asked. Chloe's expression turned serious. "The attic suite. It's home to the most terrifying entity in this manor. No player has ever survived a single night in that room." A collective gasp went through the crowd.

Alika’s POV I used to think horror stories exaggerated things. That walls don’t bleed. That houses don’t whisper. That curses were metaphors for family trauma. But now, in this cursed manor—this breathing tomb of Blackwell secrets—I’ve learned the truth. They don’t just whisper. They scream.

Now let's talk about my other books. Nightmare Land is not changing, but I am re-editing the first 18 chapters, which I will try to finish as soon as I can. Again, I will try to get the re-edits out with a new chapter, so just bear with me. Not only that, but I'm trying to add on a new book called Dark Tales of the Alive Undead. I have received no response about that either, but I'm waiting for an entire week to see if my editor will respond. I know they say to wait a whole month for new books, but this is also about my other books.

But when I knocked on her door, there was no answer. “Novel?” I called out her name, but silence met me. Panic settled deep in my chest. Luckily, the door was unlocked. When I entered, the room was empty, and my heart hammered against my ribs, until I heard the water running in the bathroom. When I stepped inside, my breath caught in my throat. It was Novel. She looked lifeless, submerged beneath the water. Fear gripped me as I hauled her out. “Novel!” I barked. She opened her eyes, but they looked hollow, lifeless.

And I treat many people to coffee and tea for free - no need to worry about this. The coffee machine rattled noisily, grinding beans. —Where is your section with horror literature? Thrillers? “Everywhere,” Yuna looked around at all the shelves in her field of vision. — We have a shop with a narrow specialization, there is practically no popular literature, especially sentimental prose, women’s fantasy and ironic detective stories. But there is a variety of alternatives, horror, mysticism, thrillers, dystopias. In general, we buy everything that other stores take for testing sales. With second-hand books, things are similar.