Horror Poetry Novels & Stories

The moon hung low in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the deserted streets. Helena crouched in the shadows, the thick most of the night helping to conceal her, heart pounding with adrenaline as she scanned the area for any sign of movement. The air was thick with the scent of fear and the coppery tang of blood. She knew she was getting closer to her target, a rogue vampire who had been terrorizing the town for weeks.

I kept questioning when this nightmare would finally come to an end. After a few minutes, my sanity and consciousness gradually crept over me. Every time I wake from my nightmare, it's as though I slowly forget everything about the present. Each time I awaken, it feels like I’m losing touch with everything around me. I have no idea why. I can't bring myself back to the current moment. I bit my lip to stop it from trembling, rubbing my eyes to clear the blur, desperately scanning every corner filled with doubt, anxiously searching for answers, terrified of whatever dark thing had followed me here. There was no sound or light—only the darkness. The air smelled of poison, salty like blood. I tr

Their faint voices were not mere echoes, but flashes of madness throbbing in the darkness, stirring bodies and pressing down on hearts. Meanwhile, Malik and Dima huddled behind the door of Nabil's apartment, silent, their fingers gripping the cold edge, their hearts pounding like the faint drums of war. They had no idea how this night would end, and no one dared guess what would happen when the dead shadows clashed with human power, with spirits unwilling to leave. The night coiled around the tower like a black serpent, pressing down on every corner, testing the patience of those who stood before it. Every breath, every whisper, carried the promise that this night would not end peacefully, t

A sense of dread hung in the air, thick and suffocating. It felt like something monstrous had swept through, leaving only fear in its wake. Beasts? Ghosts? Who could tell? The markets were in chaos, stalls overturned and their wares left to rot. Squashed fruits littered the ground, their vibrant colors dulled as insects and bees buzzed in a macabre feast, their wings flickering in the fading light. The stench of decay mingled with the chill in the wind, making the hair on the back of my neck rise. We clung together, moving as one, terrified that if we strayed too far from each other, whatever darkness haunted this place would tear us apart.

Were they afraid I might fall to my death, or were they hoping for it? I was certain it was the latter. I spread my arms wide and with my eyes turning red, I opened my mouth, allowing the winds to carry my words to them down below Let it rain, hail and brimstone, My dead bones has risen, I’ve returned, the unforgiven dead. By ash and bone, by blood and blight, I call the darkness to take its bite. Let sickness rot their flesh and breath, Let every dawn bring closer death. Let fever scorch their brittle veins,

Sometimes it was even fun—when you had a little grog in you and, running through the tunnel, you and your mates tried to outdo each other shouting vulgarities or you belted a bawdy ballad at the top of your lungs and the close walls amplified and redoubled your voice as echoes bounced off the bricks. But tonight, it wasn’t just the dark or the long half-circle stretching to a vanishing point with no end of the tunnel in sight or the ponderous sense of roads and houses and factories and churches ready to break through the arch just above your head. There was the subliminal terror of being in the dark with an unutterable horror that bit and tore but left its victims neither dead nor alive.

It infuriated Cassy more—with the night that’s the homecoming of the ghosts and horrors. A wicked laugh itched to be out, instead, she scrutinized the height. The distance between her and the ground did not harrow her. It amazed her at how different she’s lurking around where the normal people might not even stare without a wave of nausea washing over them. An urge to smoke-filled her; she fetched a pack from the inside pocket of her dark blue jacket; ignited the flame, mumbling, “Every legendary story is a pent-up frustration of human beings to invoke fear in the minds of those whom they hate. Several against one or one against many.”

He began to recite a section of the poem word for word. “But first, on earth as vampires sent, Thy corse shall from its tomb be rent Then ghastly haunt thy native place And suck the blood of all thy race There from daughter, sister, wife, At midnight drain the stream of life; Yet loathe the banquet which perforce Must fee thy livid living corse Thy victims ere they yet expire Shall know the demon for their sire, As cursing thee, thou cursing them, Thy flowers are withered on the stem.

The spirits whisper, "Devil's Backbone, Devil's Backbone, untimely." Sunny starts panicking as the room gets colder. The mirror then starts to shake on top of the fireplace, and she screams in terror. The spirits' whispers grow louder and more menacing, echoing through the room. Trembling, she clutches onto her blanket, feeling paralyzed with fear and uncertainty.

The group heeded his command, their steps synchronized as they weaved through the labyrinthine forest. Glimpses of moonlight filtered through the dense canopy above, casting eerie shadows that danced with the goblins' relentless pursuit. The forest seemed to close in around them, its ancient trees whispering secrets of forgotten horrors. Panic threatened to overwhelm them, but their unwavering resolve kept their fear at bay. Suddenly, a resounding howl pierced the air, freezing them in their tracks. The ground beneath their feet trembled, and a towering figure emerged from the darkness. It was a monstrous creature, its grotesque form blending seamlessly with the malevolence of the night.