Horror Papyrus Novels & Stories

Or maybe it was the terrifying pictures that hung down the walls that were the cause of the quiver running down my spine. On both sides of the foyer hung several pictures of demons, vampires and monsters. I bit my nails while I studied the pictures even though they unsettled me. I guessed at least half of the pictures were from the 1500s The first portrait that caught my attention featured a very tall, grey skeleton-like man who was holding several sharp objects in his hands. The skeleton man had worms and maggots in his belly and body, and his dead skin was hanging off his bones like worn-out rags.

His hot breath washed over me, making my skin prickle with fear, and I felt his gaze like a physical touch, making me shudder. The chains creaked and groaned, straining against the beast's fury. I knew it was only a matter of time before Romain broke free, and I was consumed by the horror that loomed before me. The Moon Goddess seemed to have abandoned me, leaving me to face this terror alone.

Suddenly, an explosion vibrated the ground and when I looked up, a black smoke emitted in the air toward the hamlet. “Randolph!” A gasp escaped my lips. Grabbing my dress, I darted back to the forest and ran. My feet flew over dead leaves and stones as I scouted for the hamlet, the branches of the trees whipped my face and tugged at my dress. My heart thumped behind my chest as I zigzagged through the sparsely darkened forest. Suddenly, I arrived at the hamlet and the scene before me almost crippled me. Before me were terrifying monsters from my nightmares; lycans; as my father would call them; they pounced and ripped apart the bodies of my father’s men who have also shifted into their wolve

His gaze wandered slowly across the space. He spotted the large table that had just been placed there. On the far side of the table, an assortment of strange documents lay in a messy pile, illuminated by the dim, yellow glow of a lamp. He walked over and picked up one of the books from the stack. Opening it, he was greeted by unfamiliar writing—symbols and letters that seemed to bleed with darkness. The sight made his skin crawl. He quickly shut the book, feeling the chill around him deepen.

Its darkness of its skin was like a night absent of the moon and stars, its eyes the only colour that can be seen on the hideous creature. The eyes were hypnotic. As the scarlet red eyes stare at me, I realise this is a creature I have never seen before. The amount of times I have come into the Aurelian Spires by myself searching for creatures like this I have never found one quite so frightening. This time I have no weapon, no way of protecting myself, let alone my friend. So I did the only thing I could do to protect her. I got up and ran. This is where I am now, running for my life hoping beyond hope that Alexandria packs up and leaves. Behind me I can hear her calling my name

“Oh, so you won’t come out? Fine. Then I’ll smash all your d*mn flowers!” He stormed forward and stomped the flowers into pieces. At that moment, I suddenly remembered something Lucas once told me. In horror games, players who refused to participate usually died horribly. Back then, I thought he was just making up stories, but it seemed like maybe I really should’ve believed him. “Sir, wait, don’t–” Before I could finish my sentence, the crushed flowers suddenly regenerated. On top of that, they grew larger and larger until the enormous petals swallowed the man whole. A scream rang out, and then silence fell. All that remained on the ground were two severed limbs and a pool of blood.

I ask him and he stands and goes over to his bookshelves and pulls out a huge book and brings it over to desk that sits in the corner of the room. I quickly get up and moved to him wanting to see the content in the book. I look at the pages as Travis flips slowly through them and I realize every horror movie made in Hollywood was made from a creature of this book. I began to read a page and Travis went to flip the page to quickly and I reached down to stop him from flipping the page and my hand accidentally brushed his hand and chills went through my body to the tips of my toes and I turned to look at him and he was already looking at me.

Those books were older than any of the others in his office. The bottom shelf (the one he’d been searching when he’d first heard the cats playing in the hall) held his collection of horror anthologies. The famed Whispers series, edited by Stuart David Schiff, featuring the varied works of Ramsey Campbell, Stephen King, Charles Grant and so many others. The Mammoth Book of Best New Horror from England. The Shivers series, published by Cemetery Dance. Masques, Borderlands, Shadows, Stalkers, Dark Forces, October Dreams I & II, Corpse Blossoms, Horror Library Volumes 1-5, and Prime Evil. Classic horror anthologies jammed next to paperback collections of slightly lesser repute with titles to mat

“Of course. Very serious work.” He passed her the soda. His fingers brushed hers. A little spark—not magical, just human—ran up her arm. The lights dimmed further as yet another trailer started, this one for something involving a haunted house, a mismatched group of friends, and a lot of stylish screaming. “Do you want to skip this one?” he asked quietly. “We can close our eyes and pretend it’s an insurance commercial.” “I write horror,” she said. “I can handle a trailer.”

The final blow that made her fully accept what her two children had now become was when Zack startled from his sleep only to find the entire bedroom engulfed in flame. Thankfully, his panic put them out rather than making the situation worse. “What do you have there?” I questioned, reaching for the papyrus scroll in her hands. She nudged me to the side with her hip, pushing back the mountain of books I had strewn across the tables splintered surface. The heavy scratch of thick paper hit my ears as she unraveled it to its fullest extent. Laced within the golden fillagree was a strange style of artwork that looked both ancient and beautiful.