Horror Story Writing In English の小説・ストーリー

My eyes widened in horror as I saw a figure lying in the center of the circle, blood oozing from their wounds. I gasped, and the figures turned to face me. Their eyes were bloodshot, and their fangs gleamed in the dim light. I realized with a jolt of terror that they were not witches, but vampires. Their claws extended, and they began to speak in a language that made my head spin. The words were like a dark incantation, weaving a spell of fear and confusion around me. I stumbled backward, my heart racing, as the vampires began to close in on me. Their eyes seemed to burn with an otherworldly hunger, and I knew that I was in grave danger.

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.

Liam asked, squeezing my hand. “Huh?” I had to crane my neck to accommodate our height difference. He tilted his head to the side. I faced the booth where he took me. ‘Horror House’ was written in cryptic scribble on top of the door adorned with thick cobwebs. A dude in a cape stood behind a podium. His hair slicked back, and his face was a cake of white powder glared at us with his burning red eyes. A trail of fake blood dribbled down the side of his mouth. He flashed us a cryptic smile.

Samurai and Other Stories by William Meikle Stuck On You and Other Prime Cuts by Jasper Bark Poetry collections: WAR by Alessandro Manzetti and Marge Simon Brief Encounters with My Third Eye by Bruce Boston No Mercy: Dark Poems by Alessandro Manzetti Eden Underground: Poetry of Darkness by Alessandro Manzetti If you’ve ever thought of becoming an author, we’d also like to recommend these non-fiction titles: The Dead Stage: The Journey from Page to Stage by Dan Weatherer Where Nightmares Come From: The Art of Storytelling in the Horror Genre, edited by Joe Mynhardt and Eugene Johnson Horror 101: The Way Forward, edited by Joe Mynhardt and Emma Audsley Horror 201: The Silver Scream Vol.1 and V

Bethany suggested, eagerly. “Exactly. We are in the optimum position to acquire information about our Herring, because it’s our job—especially as English teachers—to find out what things inspire him. Taking your idea, we can give out an assignment early in October to pick a piece of horror literature—modern, Gothic, poetry, whatever each student wants—and from that we can learn more about him.

"Well, it was just a small event. It was (1:00 AM) In the morning as I was sleeping and suddenly... I heard the sound of an enchanting voice. I was so curious that I wanted to found out what was actually happening at that moment. So I opened my door only to see a ghost coming towards me and for a moment, I had lost control of myself. I couldn't move as my leg wobble on the ground and I didn't know when I fell down. A felt the ground opening in as the person lean towards me only for me to find out that he was a monster. Gosh, I was dying slowly inside of me as I bravely look him in the eyes and just then, my eyes brought out some flames as I shine it on him and he disappear immediately. "That

I got up as quick as I could after that happened. "Is it because of power outrage?" I asked myself as I tried to peak at the nurse's table, but she was not back yet. Of course, if she was, I would have known since I'd hear the door opening. I sighed. This darkness surrounding me makes me feel a little nervous. What kind of story is this now? If before it was a poorly written teen drama, now this scene looks like it came out from a horror movie. Where there would be something that would come out of the—

I did not dare to turn around; his massive shadow was stretching across the walls by the faint light of the moon, like a monster preparing to swallow me. ​The beats of my small heart raced with his steps that were drawing closer. Driven by blind fear, I pushed the door of the large bedroom with all the small strength I possessed, entered, and then closed it behind me while trembling. ​I froze in my place, and my eyes widened in a terror that completely paralyzed my limbs. There, in the middle of the room, lay a corpse I did not know, drowning in blood. Death fills the place, and the sharp, metallic smell of blood chokes my breath. I approached with feeble steps, tears burning my cheeks; ther

Doing my best to keep my ears on the door and fully focused on Samuel's conversation, I simply could not take it anymore. I was shaking out of fear and anger, my heart pounding as each of his words ignited horror in me. His voice slithered into me like delaying poison, and the vein of awareness started giving off numbered cues of dread and horror.

"Conrad, you're really—" An idiot! I didn't get the chance to say the words before Conrad had his hands tightly around my neck. My breath was slowly drained from my chest. Blood dripped from the corner of my mouth. It looked just like the red leaves that had fallen on the ground. "Shirley, are you having another headache?" The cold rain vanished. The hard floor disappeared. The crisp autumn air filled the space, and the room buzzed with guests. It was my 22nd birthday party and my engagement party with Conrad.