Horror Stories With A Twist Novels & Stories

He bit his tongue, the sharp sting a desperate attempt to stay awake, to endure. He had never known such terror, such utter helplessness. To think that he had glimpsed the possibility of love, only to have it twisted into a grotesque nightmare. He clung to his story, the only defence he had against the escalating horror. Twister, his smile now a chilling mask, twirled a large, gleaming tweezer in his hand, a macabre ballet of cruelty. He seemed to relish the fear in Harin's eyes, the desperate pleas for mercy.

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That was when I saw it. Behind her— no, around her—something walked closer. A long, twisted shadow, wrapped itself around her arm. Its fingers curved over hers, like a puppeteer guiding its puppet. Its face—if you could even call it that—was horrifying and evil, leaning close to her ear as though whispering secrets only she could hear. No, I thought dimly, horror cutting through the haze. Not her. I knew then this wasn’t just Lyra’s rage. It was something darker.

The next second, the Patchwork Monster tore the man in half. He tossed the body outside casually. Just then, a crisp, bell-like voice sounded outside. “It’s after work hours, who’s so rude as to be throwing bodies around?” A young girl with three heads and eight arms appeared at the doorway. With just one look at the shop, anger filled her voice, and her hair stood on end. “Who the hell had a death wish and smashed the Number One Must-Eat shop in the entire horror game?”

It was becoming darker, I didn't know which direction I came from and I was walking with a limp. I froze when I heard a twig snap. I've seen raccoons and rabbits and all sorts of critters on my way, but nothing heavy enough to snap a twig. I quickly hid behind a tree and when a hand harshly grabbed my arm, I screamed. I knew it wasn't Geoff, since these hands were meaty and very calloused. My heart stopped beating when I saw the haggard man. He gave me a crooked smile as I struggled from his grip.

It came from the second floor of Ajax’s mansion and she belatedly remembered that his room was up there. Concerned, Erin went out to his room and intruded into the darkness. Erin is never a fan of horror stories because it'll give her nightmares for the next few weeks, and she has a bad heart so she can't really afford it. "P-Please.. Don't h-hurt—arghh!" That's the voice of a girl! Erin a high pitch sound that surely came from a girl. Her heart began to race than usual. 'I swear! If Ajax brought his bitch to his house I would slap him hard for disturbing my pretty much needed sleep!' Erin shouted in her mind.

He felt fast action was vital,so he tried to twist the cyclist's head back to it's proper position,BREAKING THE BIKER'S NECK! I don't own any of this stories. I found them in some creepy books. I'm thinking of writing my own scary stories, but not anytime soon. You can send me your short stories for a feature if you feel like it. Thanks for reading. Enjoy!

Twisting, elongating. I gasped. The world lurched. Their edges wavered, as if reality itself refused to hold them in place. They weren’t just dark; they were an absence of light, an emptiness that made my stomach twist in instinctive fear. One stepped forward. Its form was human. Almost. But as it approached, it changed. The figure elongated, its limbs stretching unnaturally, twisting like branches caught in a storm. Its face blurred—eyes there one second, gone the next, mouth stretching into something too wide, too wrong.

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.”

to gather the right things to say. “I am not really an English professor. I started at this university the same day you joined, I had to get rid of the man that was teaching English before me so that the plan could work, just don’t ask me how I got rid of him.” She paused and I didn’t want to interrupt in case I messed up all that she wanted to say, instead, I screamed internally, because what was happening? She continued with, “I came here for you, I need to warn you about something before you leave university.” I stood there dumbfounded for a hot second, not really knowing what to say, then I gathered myself enough to ask, “what is the warning?”, I was seriously expecting her to say somet