Houses Of Horror Book Novels & Stories

He obviously heard when I had the nightmare, and maybe, just maybe I had mentioned Atticus’s name. I tried to navigate my thoughts back to the architecture of the house. What kind of house was crafted in such a weird way? Everything seemed off. The reflections doubled back on themself like it was deliberate, like something was hiding in plain sight. After I finished cleaning, I stayed tracing the glass, unsure of what exactly I was looking for. I wanted to stop, but I heard a faint hum behind like a vibration. Electronics. “Fuck.” I staggered back. What was happening? I leaned in to listen, but I heard footsteps.

She opened it—pages parting easily now, as though the book recognized her exhaustion and offered no resistance. She flipped past the early chapters she had already memorized. Deeper. To the sections she had only skimmed before, too afraid to linger. *Control of the Undead* The script here was denser, colder. Diagrams of binding circles, sigils of domination, lists of names for the restless dead. Zombies—simple thralls of flesh, bound by will alone. Ghouls—carrion-eaters, drawn by hunger, controlled through offerings of meat and bone.

Jessica's voice went dead serious. "This manor has thirty floors. The monsters on the lower floors? They're simple. Predictable. They work on pure instinct. Learn their patterns, and you can survive. Treat them like traps. But the higher you go... the ones at the top are a different breed entirely. They won't just kill you. They'll shatter your sanity in seconds. They'll show you what true terror really is." "She's right," Brad chimed in, his smile turning predatory.

The bone door did not resist them the second time. Elif touched her still bleeding palm to its surface, and the shadows parted like curtains, the bones grinding against each other as the entrance swung open. She stepped through without hesitation, Niklas close behind her, their footsteps echoing in the darkness beyond. The First Wolf's presence pressed against her skin, not threatening but watchful, like a parent observing a child from across a crowded room.

"I'm just so devastated. I just got dumped, and Isla is being so cruel to me. I feel like I want to die." Hannah shot me a venomous glare as she came out of the break room. "Picking on a newbie—real classy. What goes around comes around." … I purposely worked late until eight. When I packed up to leave, I realized my house keys were missing. I searched every drawer and my bag—nothing. I figured I'd call the property manager and a locksmith once I got home. When I reached my door, I noticed it was cracked open—unlocked. My heart sank. A bad feeling washed over me.

Yet, despite knowing all this, Dima couldn't stop the storm raging inside her—torn between the burning clouds she felt for him and the terror of what she might become if she gave in to him. Outside, the night remained glorious. But inside, something had shifted—as if the House of Horrors had redrawn itself within new walls. Wherever Malik went, terror followed; every place he slowly entered became another House of Horrors, another source of spreading evil. —Sunday morning. The Sunday sun rose over the quiet chalet, where Malik stood before the calendar hanging on the living room wall. His eyes scanned the carefully affixed sheet, where, in clear handwriting at the top, she read:

"Elias, she’s so hungry." "She’s gone, Clara! That isn't her!" I shouted, though I wasn't sure who I was trying to convince. That was three nights ago. Since then, the haunting has turned aggressive. We tried to sleep in the living room, but the smell followed us—the cloying, sweet scent of lilies mixed with something sour and metallic. We found tiny, damp handprints on the glass of the television. They weren't made of dirt. They were gray, smudged traces of something that looked like ash and formaldehyde.

He opened his eyes and started again, "The conversation was about our new house .He was saying that many people ran from that house because they thought that the house is haunted . They heard creepy voices ,and invisible laughter . They met many incidents . Many brave people came and went. My father haven't believe in any of these stories .He was adventurous, brave and daring . He replied with a smile that we want that house .His friend was not ready at all to give him the house .He said to him that there are many other good and beautiful houses too, but my father insisted him so much that we got that house . Now what ? We were shifting our house .It was a dark ,stormy night . We reached