Horror Roommate Stories Novels & Stories

I saw my college roommate send a voice message into a group chat. I watched his screen as our four other roommates responded. However, there were no notifications on my phone. That was when I realized the five of them had created a group without me. In that group, they complained about me being a dumb rich kid, cursed my mom for being a homewrecker, and secretly took nude photographs of me. They were even planning to drug me and give me to a older rich woman for her entertainment. I covered all their meals, drinks, and living expenses, yet they dared to betray me? Fine. I would show them the true rage of a trust fund kid!

On Christmas Eve, my friend, Lenny Gibson, sends me a text message. "I've rented a Maybach for our cat so that we can go back to our hometown for the holidays. It'll be seven thousand dollars per person. The car is fitted with air conditioning and security cameras. Don't you think this is a good deal?" I glance at my bank app, which has just deducted my monthly house mortgage from my account. "Nah. Bebe isn't a spoiled princess. I can't afford to rent such an expensive car." The next day, I receive a selfie of Lenny hugging Bebe while seated in the Maybach. "It's such a shame that you aren't here, Noah. The Maybach's owner is a hot chick, not to mention she's kind-hearted enough to give me a ride home as well!" On the evening of Christmas, I hear sounds of rapid knocking coming from the front door as soon as I enter the house. Lenny's anxious parents can be seen standing on the doorstep. "Is Lenny here with you? He hasn't come home at all! He told us yesterday that he wanted to prepare a birthday gift for you, so he had us give him 20 thousand dollars!" Before I can recover from my shock, the police come knocking on my door as well. It turns out that I'm the last person Lenny has contacted…

My roommates booked a New Year's Eve light show table—five hundred per person—and started urging me in the group chat to transfer the money. I quietly sent a screenshot of my account balance. "You guys go ahead," I wrote. "I haven't even scraped together my tuition yet." They replied with a string of mocking "haha"s. Our dorm leader, Giselle Murdoch, even posted on her social media with the caption: [The first step to crossing class boundaries is distancing yourself from people who kill the mood.] Just after midnight, they sent me a photo from the light show and said, "Too bad you're not here." I frowned, confused, when my counselor's call cut in—her voice tight with urgency. "Did you invite your roommates to the light show? The organizers said they never even checked in! They're missing!"

I accidentally hit my head in the shower. To my surprise, I find that I can hear my aloof housemate's thoughts. "Damn, he's got perky buns." I think of him as a regular housemate, but he wants to sleep with me?

Horror stories originate from somewhere. Whether from eyewitness accounts or from survivors' tales, they come from somewhere. And while all of us grow up with the folklore, how many of us genuinely believe that werewolves and vampires prowl through the night, taking what they want. I will admit I didn't believe the tales. I thought werewolves and vampires were nothing more than make-believe. Scary stories meant to keep kids in line. That is until a monster ripped me from my warm and sold me to the highest bidder. Where nightmares and horror stories become true is where my story begins. Can I ever be free again, or will the beasts rule my body and soul forever. TRIGGER WARNING!!!!!

"Mr. Warden, what's that fun-looking toy you've hidden away in your pants? Pull it out and let us take a look!" When I'm in the middle of making my rounds around the factory's female dormitory, a few young women try to reach for my crotch. Anger floods my senses immediately. At the same time, my body goes rigid from shock. Not only are the women not afraid of me, but they are also eager to witness the physical change of my body. In fact, they want me to pull my manhood out of the zipper just to show them my actual size. In that case, don't blame me for being so straightforward.

I wake up one day to find that I've become the power bank of the whole dorm. When the percentage shown above my dorm mates' heads is low, they'll be tired, angry, and ill-tempered. My job is to help them recharge via all sorts of physical contact. If I don't do my part, my grumpy dorm mates will force me to charge them up anyway…

Take a journey with me into my collection of short horror stories. Over the years, my dreams have always scared me so much that I had a hard time sleeping at night. So, one day I decided to create new stories from my deepest fears. From Vampires, monsters, witches and ghosts to stories that seem normal but are just a little off, I hope my stories chill you to the bone as much as they do me.

My dormmates are my bullies. When they hear that my father owns a factory, they force me to get them part-time jobs there for the summer. I look down at the wounds they've inflicted on me and smile. They've just served themselves up for slaughter—they've given me the perfect opportunity to get revenge on them. My father's factory isn't as great as they think—it's known for its strange happenings.

Chloe, the maid I share a room with, is dead. I watched the head housekeeper and another maid pin her to the floor. I watched them as the housekeeper vomited up a slimy, black web of fungus and forced it down Chloe's throat. I should have screamed. I wanted to. But my selective mutism took over, trapping the sound in my throat. It probably saved my life. The next day, Chloe was alive again. She walked into the young miss’s room to brush her hair, just like always. I was so scared I dropped the water basin I was holding. As I stood there, frozen, the young miss leaned in close, her voice a whisper only I could hear. "You've noticed it too, haven't you? They're not themselves anymore."