Horror Stories To Tell In The Dark Novels & Stories

“IT’S JUST I HAD a different book in mind when ink spilled on this one, plus what’s left to do in a finished book?” They, of course, ignored me Completely probably deciding if I would not explain, they were just going to proceed. One of the three waved their hand above the inky darkness we were standing on, and instantly a book on a pedestal was in front of them on the floor. It showed off my title, ‘1001 Dark Tales’. I instantly held my breath, hoping they didn’t realize what that meant. But if they had, they said nothing. Instead, they just started flipping through the pages of the book, looking for which store to choose.

His shadow tore itself from him and stuck to the wall— where Arya’s shadow once had. The candles relit themselves. The register lay closed. On the final corner of the last page, written faintly, were the words: “Stories never end… only the storytellers change.” Slowly, silence returned. The doors opened. Some students ran out. Some stayed behind— out of fear… or because they were already part of the story. And from the stage, where the professor’s shadow remained, a new voice whispered— “Now… who will tell the next story?”

If the door was unlocked, they could have gone out and survived. I saw Jia glance at the empty seat beside me. I suddenly felt a chill. Dang. Don't tell me... One of their friends broke the chilling silence and scolded the storyteller. "Damn. Why are you telling such a spooky story this time? We are here to club!"

Once setting the firewood in place, making the dark room glowed through the orange flame and prepared enough heat to keep the small cabin warm all through the night, she sat by his only son, making herself and her rounded belly comfortable in the soft bed. "My son, it is time to go to sleep. Now, what stories do you wish me to tell you? I have many already prepared for you. Is it about a king? Or how vampires or the werewolves come to exist? Or a princess who falls into a deep slip after being prick by a cursed needle? Which one would you like to hear, my love?" The young boy looked like he was thinking rather hard and his eyebrow scrunched, figuring what stories would be good. After a few m

“The World of the Unknown. A book to die for.” My mother used to tell me stories of Vampires, Werewolves, Demons, the Orramoths, and the worst of them all, the Darklings. Most of the creatures she told me they blew out of proportion. She said writers did this to make a dollar or two, and some did it to scare the shit out of their kids and make them listen. My aunt would laugh because she said that I was a different breed than most. The minute I heard about them, I buried my head deeper into books with excitement. Little did she know I also discovered Daddy’s old box in the attic, and ‘The World of the Unknown’ was in it.

He pauses before continuing with that slithering accent like something you would hear in a horror story or someplace in the darkest parts of Europe, “Have you ever wondered if the things that go bump in the night really exist? Or if they are a figment of your imagination?” Getting more creeped out by the second, I keep staring at him and then find that I can speak again. Before I utter an answer, I raise my hand up to my forehead and wipe a strand of my blonde hair out of my eyes so I can concentrate. “Sure, I have always been intrigued by the forces of darkness, but do they really exist as they do in my novels and dreams?”

I darted my eyes away quickly-- "You promised," Al said all of a sudden. "What?" I paused in surprise. "No question asked," Al smirked, holding out his hand to me. I was grateful that he didn't ask into it. Night fell. So the thing about horror stories is that-- The fear kicks in only at dark nights when you are alone, not when you are at the crowded theater or on the bright street. Meaning-- I couldn't fall asleep that night. Turns out it's a bit hard to fall asleep when you don't close your eyes because you feel the need to stare at everything with alert.

Special Chapter 30: Stories of Old from The Dark Forest of Aubrianne Every night after supper, Damien Wolfsbane would tell Dorin about tales long gone. These are the stories he told him. First Evening As the night got deeper and the food around the fire was consumed, Damien Wolfsbane would ease himself on one of the thick furs scattered in the burrow’s floor and stretch out his long legs. When he is comfortable with the two kits side by side, one curled next to the other, he would give a deep sigh and tell a story...

I asked with a scoff. "Eternal torment. They have dark, dangerous magic and they use it occasionally on people like us. They have underground dungeons where they keep such victims, the walls of the dungeons are fortified so you can't hear the screams of the victims but if you go close enough, you can feel the chills." She narrated. "Are you just trying to scare me?" I asked and she threw me an annoyed look. "Do I look like I'm kidding? Just be careful, you really don't want to get into trouble." She cautioned and I sighed.

" Listen, children, I know you came from different villages to learn how to read, but I must warn you. " " There's a real story, about a silver monster, someone said he looks like a wolf, and someone said, he looks like a human." I said completely terrified but I must warn them. " Every day and every night, something bad happens to any villager, there is always someone to die, a guy drained of blood, or a guy dies from animal scratches, big scratches. " " Wow Hazel, what a story you're telling the children. " " Dad! " I stood up when I found my dad behind me, I looked at him and he stared towards the quiet Umera.