Novel & Cerita Long Horror Stories

" I stayed silent, but that did not deter them. They started ramming the door. I pressed my back against it, looking at my unconscious mother in the bedroom, and closed my eyes. A living hell on earth was worse than any horror game. When humans start killing each other, they were more terrifying than monsters. ... Meanwhile, a group of bosses gathered in the empty supermarket, staring at each other in confusion. "Uhm, where's Ms Thrushwood?" one of them asked. "She's always punctual. Even on restock days when the shop's closed, she tells us ahead of time," another commented.

Because he had just been ripped apart. I turned around slowly and stared at the “pet” who had done the ripping. He still had blood on his face, but somehow looked… innocent. “I was hungry,” he murmured. Maybe it was my imagination, but his pupils looked a little sharper than before. [Wow. Trying to slut-shame someone in a horror dungeon? He had it coming.] [Pop the champagne. Ding-dong, the jerk is dead.] [Lol the stans are out. She can sleep with monsters but nobody can call her out?]

By now, we’ve all had more than a few drinks, and we’re halfway between tipsy and passed out. “Let’s tell scary stories,” Laura, one of my friends, suggests. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Kara asks. “These woods are spooky at night. I have to be able to sleep, you know.” “Maybe we should call one of those hunky forest rangers for you,” I suggest with a laugh. “He’d better bring a friend,” Laura says. “Or twelve,” Diana, another friend of mine, adds. We all laugh, and Laura starts in on the first story about night walkers, ghostly figures who march through the forest.

And the loudest warning of them all was; "Do not trust any friendly stranger with pretty eyes." It had been these way for decades, centuries even. Every single child in the town grew up hearing these stories. Unlike other cities where their bedtime stories centers on royal fantasies, and fairies, the bedtime stories they listened to was filled with horror. It was the stories of wolves with glowing eyes, and the shadowy figures that lured you into the trees, only for your screams to echo back hollow, and unanswered. Though the stories had believable theories, not everyone readily believed them. Some called them folklores wrapped in superstition. Some believed they were old stories, made up to

After I was done peeling the apple, I munched on it and began chatting with her, seemingly nonchalantly, like I was just talking about the weather, while telling her everything that had happened in my past life. Lacey's eyes were first filled with terror, then confusion, then shock. When I was done with my story, Lacey said with much difficulty, "Impossible… You couldn't have had a past life… That's all bullshit! "I'd never have killed you… I'd never… You shouldn't believe it… You're making a stupid mistake!" I threw the apple core into the trash can and wiped my hands clean. "Don't be stupid. Why would I ever kill you? Your boyfriend will do the job instead.

Looked like Loren had gotten carried away, Ria thought. "You know, of all the ghosts, the most dangerous are the ones that carry grudges and regrets…" Loren rambled on again. Ria started to think that Loren liked horror topics like this. "What do you mean?" Ria responded while reading through some of the articles she found earlier. “I have a story that my mother firsthand experienced. She once rented an old house that was haunted by a spirit full of regret and anger that almost brought her to an terrible accident…” Loren had already started preparing her story when Ria noticed that the clock already indicated that their next class was about to start.

It was late autumn when they arrived — the trees skeletal, the air thick with a kind of oppressive stillness that seemed to hum beneath the surface of the world. Emily Carter, a graduate student in folklore and urban legends, had heard the whispers about WildWood all her life. She had grown up just a few towns over and had spent years gathering the old stories: tales of the “vanishing patients,” the “howling trees,” and the “night doctors” said to stalk the forest paths. Determined to separate fact from myth, Emily organized an expedition for her thesis, enlisting a few brave companions:

Horror filled our features. Our eyes went wide as saucers. Oh sh*t! Sh*t! Sh*t!

"And you have pissed me off." He believes me. Suddenly he believes every horror story he has been told since he was a little boy. That they were all true: the dead things hungering for the warm living flesh; the bony hand coming out of the closet in the black of night; the monsters from another page of reality, the unturned page--who could look so human, so cute. He reaches for his gun. Too slowly, much too.

You could say that there are no ghosts in the world, and I could agree with you, but some people said that there are no werewolves in the world and we know for sure that they are, so… never say never. “I hate this place,” Sam said and looked around. “So many stories , horror stories that I get goosebumps just thinkin' about it.” “ I chose this place exactly for that. Because we all hate this place and it is the last place where Manganiello would think that we will come.”