Horror Story Writing Novels & Stories

One of these—a creative writing assignment to write a horror story—proves to be just the jackpot we were looking for. Derek’s story . . . well, let’s just say it even gives me the heebie-jeebies, and that’s an accomplishment. In a nutshell, his story is about a guy infatuated with the high school cheerleader, whom he proceeds to stalk obsessively; camping out in a tree behind her house so he can watch her through her bedroom window, breaking into the house when no one is there so he can go through her sock drawer (yes, her sock drawer . . . this kid is more messed up than I realized), and otherwise just acting like a total creep. In the end, his infatuation drives him insane and he brutally

“Writers who crafted books about supernatural creatures like wolves and vampires. Those are either one of us or they were drunk when they saw us and began writing it down as if it was just a spark of creativity or hallucinations in the dark, in their dreams.” “That’s the beauty of storytelling.” I turned to look at Raverine, seated with his one leg atop his other leg and a glass of whiskey on his hand. I added, “Deceitful, as well. If people were only telling the truth, police would love that. The world would love that.” “The truth brings chaos and pain, Ember,” he emphasized. “Literature provided different perspectives of us, flipping two sides of a story depending on the audience’s demogra

If a werewolf had killed or tasted blood, his eyes would turn red and the more blood he tasted, it was likely that his eyes would become brighter. That meant the creature behind me had probably consumed a fountain of it. “Where do you think you're going?” It finally spoke. Its voice sounded like a lonely, yet dep tune played by a lost soul wandering the woods at midnight when children and even adults were asked to not come out. A horror story told to children and most adults to scare them off their nightly adventure. “I said come back here”. I yelled at myself, pushing me out of my imagination. Along with its utterance, came a fast lounge at me. It nearly grabbed me by the collar but I was f

I felt the sharp, electric itch beneath my skin—the boredom, the raw, pulsing need to see something beautiful change into something broken. With Leo here, I had a convenient vessel. I had a shadow to cast my own darkness into. When the neighbor’s cat had turned up, cold and stiff in the silverware drawer, I had watched from the doorway as my father discovered it. I had watched the terror, the confusion, and the inevitable look of despair as he turned to Leo, who had been sitting at the kitchen table, coloring. I didn't have to say a word. I didn't have to plant any evidence. My father’s mind did the work for me. He needed to believe it was Leo. To admit it was me—his pride, his joy, his hono

He wrote about them based on the myths that he had heard, read, and gathered while continuing his daily life. "Van, open the door!" He groaned and got up from his seat. "What do you want? I’m writing." Van answered with no soul in his voice. He never let go of his passion for writing. Unfortunately, there was barely anyone wanting to buy any of his recent books. His patrons who used to buy his work say that his recent ones are too scary to be read as a children’s tale and too alarming to be enjoyed by adults. Still, he continued to write about those creatures unknown to men, lurking in the dark and waiting for the perfect victim.

I remember when I was in the sorcerer's house in the night almost get carried away by the ghost in the night of Tortuga, I remember when I and my friends where having a nice and enjoyable Halloween Night party with our costumes before the arrival of the Black cults. I remember my parents and started crying...I started weeping but... couldn't weep out as there is no one to be of my aid here instead I would even get into more danger my giving a sound to show that am downstairs to anyone close to where is am. I feel lost, tired, weak as I haven't eaten for three days and the last thing I ate was a fruit, Apple I guess. As I was down depressed, weeping and thinking about my life, I hear a sound