Horror Writing Tips Novels & Stories

WITH ONLY one day left to Halloween, the people of Cape Cod were already setting into the mood of the Oktoberfest event. House yards were filled with spooky figures like white cloths to represent ghosts and the jack-o'-lanterns of course. Jake had stashed the book inside a compartment in his room, hoping the degenerate creatures of the dark would not find it. Certainly, there had to be a way to destroy all of them with the book and not just lifting it up in front of them when they showed up.

They entered the house one by one through the window. It was pitch black inside. They turned on their flashlights and lighted up the living room which was full of dust and old things. The atmosphere of the house was very spooky, and only their steps broke the silence inside. Luna felt increasingly pressured and she began to feel something unexplained. "I feel like there are a lot of eyes watching us," she said quietly. Max just laughed, "Stop being so dreamy, Luna. Are you pretending to be a Nancy Drew?" Luna snorted in annoyance at Max.

Am I right? ‘Well it doesn’t matter now, does it? He isn’t sixteen anymore.’ ‘Oh I am right. Now let me tell you how sorry you will be. Forget about just the campus knowing, how about I write a little essay on social media? Facebook being the first stop and the pictures from your and Billy’s past sexual experiences will trend all over instagram. Let’s wait and see how pretty little miss perfect will fix that with her morals.’ ‘You are bluffing. You don’t have anything against me and I won’t fall to your stupid scare tactics.’

His wrinkled face looked like it was crawling with countless wriggling worms. I shuddered and stepped back, whispering to Silvia, "Good thing I've got you. This place is terrifying." She snorted and suddenly shoved me forward, straight toward George. With an icy laugh, she said, "This pretty boy will make a great offering. You're going to love him." Before I could react, George gestured, and several eerie puppets stepped forward to pin me down and drain my blood. A sharp bell rang out, echoing through the night.

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.

Warm blood sprayed across my face. His eyes were wide as his body collapsed and twitched slightly before going completely still. I sank to the floor, panting for large mouthfuls of breath as blood dripped from my chin. After a long moment, I forced myself up and walked to the table to wipe my face. A stone ink slab sat on the table with a sheet of paper pinned beneath it. On it, the letters written with charcoal were crooked but fierce; it was King Ragnar's handwriting. "Who are you? Why do you appear whenever I'm in danger? When the thug beat me up, you bit him, and when the page picked on me, you fought back. Who exactly are you?"

Just remember, if you don’t want things to go bump in the night, don’t tell anyone else about them. Even now the shadows in my room play havoc with my subconscious, so I turn the light on and sleep with one eye open. Also, when my computer starts to go on the fritz just as I write a particularly spooky part of a story, I chuck it up to chance and swallow a little harder before checking to make sure that I have only one shadow. It’s amazing that I still get so scared as an adult. You sure would have thought that for someone who makes a living scaring people, I would know better, right?

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.”

“Given the events of the past week, do you really think it’s a good idea to open your drive-in with a horror show?” Skoger smiled slightly and turned to look at the trees that surrounded the back of the house. Yellow ironwood leaves fluttered and whispered in the wind and he nodded as if he were agreeing with them. “You know, my aunt always said the people in this country had a passion for fear. I believe that is still true. Fear is the first and most pure of man’s experiences. It nourishes us in a way. We come to crave it.

The red-clad female ghost had once slaughtered an entire room of players in three seconds, then hung their corpses upside down from tree branches with red silk, creating a forest of dangling bodies. The Scissorhands monster had skewered more than a dozen people together, stirring their organs with his blades until they dissolved into a pile of flesh. As for the warden, he locked each team inside separate rooms and released over a dozen ghosts among them, forcing them to betray one another in desperate attempts to survive. In the end, every single one of the players was torn to pieces. All the players knew was that the bosses' methods were monstrously cruel. What they didn't know was that tho