Horror Stories Writing Novels & Stories

He said, looking at her, she didn't look frightened at all. "Have you been following me?" Megan asked. "No, what?" He said, snickering. "Follow you, no way, I..you know..umm..just out here trying to get some inspiration for a new horror book I want to write. You know, I realized I have flair for writing.. writing novels, horror novels." "Oh.. yeah, horror novels about werewolves.." Megan smiled. "I'm also researching and guess what, I found out werewolves live here, in this woods."

“Back before you were a world-famous author, huh?” Brad laughed. “Yeah, back then I was working for my hometown paper writing obituaries.” “So your work hasn’t changed too much; you’re still writing about death.” “I suppose you could look at it that way.” “I’ll confess I haven’t actually read any of your books. I know of you by reputation, but I’m a bit too squeamish for horror. A mystery, on the other hand, suits me just fine.” “Hey, to each his own. Or her own. I like mysteries, too; in some ways they share similar elements with horror.”

After two days of high temperatures and intense boredom, he remembered the three books. Sam pulled out the one with the Mummy on the cover, because it looked the most innocuous. It was entitled the Ninth Pan Book of Horror Stories. He wasn’t the least bit prepared for what he found inside. The first three stories involved emasculation, murder and burning at the stake. In his fevered state Sam felt he was not only watching the characters’ suffering, he was experiencing it along with them. He flung the book at the wall and then hid it again, wishing he could burn it like Jinnot, the young girl in the third story who was burned alive.

He chuckled, leaning down, close to my ear. “ You have been thinking about me. My touch, my tongue…. My cock” he voice was so low, it sent chills down my spine. I swallowed hard. “ You should be afraid of me, I broke into your house even the security crawling everywhere. Yet you still want me” he said tauntingly and he was right. ‘ I am” Another lie

And after what she told me earlier,of what she had seen…” Hollingsworth Manor,July 1984 “I swear to you Polly,”Ginny said in her most excited voice.”I saw her…in my room!” “Calm down Ginny,”Polly implored.”Tell me everything from the beginning.” Polly pulled her younger sister down next to her on the low wall overlooking the garden,where the flowers were in full bloom.Ginny’s beautiful elfin face,so much like her own,was frozen in a mask of pure terror. “I believe you Polly,everything you said about this place is true…its haunted!At first I only felt it,but now… I have seen this evil with my own two eyes!”

“Back before you were a world-famous author, huh?” Brad laughed. “Yeah, back then I was working for my hometown paper writing obituaries.” “So your work hasn’t changed too much; you’re still writing about death.” “I suppose you could look at it that way.” “I’ll confess I haven’t actually read any of your books. I know of you by reputation, but I’m a bit too squeamish for horror. A mystery, on the other hand, suits me just fine.” “Hey, to each his own. Or her own. I like mysteries, too; in some ways they share similar elements with horror.”

“What is this? I told you we just need a brief description. I didn’t ask you to make up some bullshit story.” “I added some colour-” “You didn’t add colour,” he interrupts the writer. “You wrote a whole fucking horror story. When did any of our children die? We didn’t pick up exploded elders in the forest. Everything we say needs to be believable. This is not.” “I’m sorry, your highness,” the woman says. “I write fiction, not-” “Do better next time,” Johnathan interrupts and shoves the folder back in her hands. “Who has the fact sheet about this man?”

You guys are the best! Another thing... I am thinking of changing the title and the cover of my story so it will look more of horror-romace than pure horror. What do you think? What do you think can boost my views? Your contributions are appreciated.

He only had to wait for Lucy to edit it. The feeling of satisfaction and relief washed over him that instant as he rested his fingers for a minute before going at it again. He had already written two collections of horror stories submitted to his editor. The intention was for some of the mild and medium scary tales to be published on paperbacks. However, the truly mind-blowing and sick horror stories were published digitally on web novel websites where he would have no problem bypassing censorship by replacing disturbing words with asterisks and euphemisms. The feeling of writing without being stared at by dozens of eyes from filthy beings made his mood ecstatic. His fingers were literally f

When my fingers are close enough, I brush them down her cheek. "So young. So naive. My dear little mouse, they talked about how big of a monster I am. They made it sound as if all werewolves are just as horrid. The humans are afraid...and what do humans do when they are afraid? They kill, my sweet pet. They kill. Even though we have been living side by side for thousands of years...that won't matter because they are scared," I say softly, and my little mouse actually blushes due to my touch.