Horror Stories Writing Novels & Stories

I asked her curiously as I sat comfortably on her couch and the three of them sat on the big one adjacent to mine. "Well, I believe that there's nothing to be scared of. The ghosts, vampires, witches, and werewolves are just in the books. Right? Fiction. Not real." My oblivious girlfriend explained, and that made the three of us, supermarket beings, look at each other. If you just knew, Pryce. None of us here is purely human. "Uh, yeah, yeah. They're just in the books. Horror books. They are a product of one's creative minds… and to scare people." Sander agreed with her best friend. Now, I really don't know how we will tell Pryce about the whole truth.

The only reply was the suffocating smoke, swirling ominously around him, and the sound of his own ragged breaths, quickening with each passing moment. Panic clawed at his throat as he strained to hear any sign of her. But the silence was deafening. It intensified the horror that began to creep into his mind. “What if the Demons had caught up with Gem?” The thought alone sent icy tendrils of dread spiraling through him. As he breathed, he began to feel shadows flickering at the edges of his vision. Suddenly, a pale candlelight popped up before his eyes, illuminating the hallways with a creepy radiance.

"I will kill all the members of your family if you do not offer yourself to me. I will bring you to the situation when you will intentionally come to me and plead to save your family members by offering yourself to me." Amara walked helpless towards the haunted mansion. She felt numb and lifeless for the happenings around her. The words of the sage begin to ring in her ears. "It will be the dark night without the moon, the onset of heavy storm and the shrill howls of dogs. There will be an unfathomable clamor present in the atmosphere, the unwelcoming cries of the eagles and the uproar of tumult yowls from everywhere around will be the indication to alert you it was the one and only day in y

Ever since that day, Cassey stopped writing stories during the day, and writes every dawn instead. Cassey started writing at a young age. When she was 11, she was triggered by a traumatic experience that she can never tell to anyone, so she resorted into writing instead. She has been writing romance novels lately, but it is not her favorite genre. She loves to write psychological stories that expressed female rage. The first story she wrote was entitled "Snow White's Apple". It tells the story of a young girl who wishes to be Snow White, so she can have a stepmother who will hand her a poisoned apple. The main character wishes to end her suffering and flee eternally from her abusive biologic

"I guess you rushed out without your meds, right? I'm heading out." Jacob collapsed, clawing at his throat. "You… The cameras… They will not let you—" I stopped in the doorway. "That was a lie. There are no cameras." I shut the door. Jacob reached out weakly, grasping at empty air. … Third Person Point of View "Do you really have no idea what happened last night?"

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.

“So, you believe that there is a possibility that they plotted your father’s death and mother’s disappearance. And there is a great chance that your father’s schemes were discovered, or reported by someone… which eventually lead to his death—ordered to be murdered. And that leaves you to find who did it. Whoever stabbed your father in the back could be someone close to him.” “Correct.” Raverine grabbed a glass of whiskey and took it in one gulp. “Could be his friends or foes or… his own family.” I nodded and turned my attention to the computer screen. I typed in vampires in the search bar and mythical stories came up on the search browser first. “I wonder who wrote these articles and stories

He vented all his fear of the horror game onto me just like before. Whenever Jack was bullied or ignored by others, he always came home and dumped all his resentment on me. His fists fell on me like raindrops. He had placed a restriction on me, and my whole body could not move. My eyes reddened, and veins bulged on my forehead. This scum—I would definitely kill him! The moon outside turned blood-red, and the air was filled with the smell of blood. In that instant, I seemed to hear something break. Then I bit down hard on Jack’s arm and tore off a piece of flesh.

An unimpressive number had racked up in the brief morning hour since she left the parking lot. She tapped her memo app and scrolled through her half-constructed blog post ideas: the tragic devolution of vampires in the horror genre; the best and the worst of the found footage horror explosion; the best indie horror out of this year’s film festival circuit; scream queens to watch, the new horror badasses and final girls. She tapped her nail on the edge of her phone case as she formulated the sentences in her mind. Then the phone vibrated against her palm. Brady: And the likes keep coming!

Willa sprinted into the elevator, her eyes widening with fear and her fingers clutching her bag firmly for support. As a horror writer, one would think she was accustomed to such surroundings and may have even enjoyed them, but that was far from the truth. Willa hated everything about ghosts and haunted houses, and even the sight of too much blood drove her insane. The horror genre felt like a gift; she was so good at it and had written over thirty bestselling novels, but in reality, her fears had been portrayed in every character she created. As the elevator dinged, she sighed in relief and rushed out. She quickly searched her bag for her key, but as her hand touched the doorknob, the door