Long Horror Story Writing Novels & Stories

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

I couldn’t go back to sleep, I was scared of my own mind, having an overactive imagination turned to be a curse in lonely nights, every sound, every murmur my brain translated and turned into a monster hiding in the darkness. “A story, but you are the writer between the two of us,” she says in a reply with a chuckle, she’s right usually I’m the one who makes up the stories, I’m the author, and I’m really proud about it. “I know, but tonight, I need you to do it,” I say in a sad voice, it was more of a whisper, I can’t tell her a story, not with how scared I’m feeling right now, my story would be one about ghosts, fear, demons that lurk outside your home and not the one under the bed ready to

She was lying in bed asleep unknowing of the darkness that was at the foot of her bed. She stirred, awakening from her slumber, her subconscious feeling the hard eyes staring at her. She sat up feeling uneasy as she reached for the glass of water beside her bed hands shaking as her fingers got nearer to the the glass, it dropped and smashed to the floor, water spattered all over the floor. She felt goosebumps, hair raising at the back of her neck. She gripped the blanket up to her neck and shouted, "I know you are here Hannah! What do you want from me?!" Suddenly, she felt the air getting colder and the spattered water splashing softly as footsteps are heard going near her. Slowly, the water

I apologize that this book is really short with less than 30k words in all. I plan to edit it at some point and make it better. I figured that a really long Horror book might be less interesting and would just seem drawn out. I've not read a lot of them but I watch horror movies so I wrote this like I would picture an Horror movie. I appreciate all those who stuck with me and read Reincarnation regardless. Thank you all. After saying this, I would love and appreciate your feedbacks and things to watch out for when I do edit the book. It would be really helpful and appreciated. Bonus scene ideas too would be great. Thanks once again.

He only had to wait for Lucy to edit it. The feeling of satisfaction and relief washed over him that instant as he rested his fingers for a minute before going at it again. He had already written two collections of horror stories submitted to his editor. The intention was for some of the mild and medium scary tales to be published on paperbacks. However, the truly mind-blowing and sick horror stories were published digitally on web novel websites where he would have no problem bypassing censorship by replacing disturbing words with asterisks and euphemisms. The feeling of writing without being stared at by dozens of eyes from filthy beings made his mood ecstatic. His fingers were literally f

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.

Ken asks while trying to make the conversation a little lighter. "I swear, Ken. Big huge hairy creatures that shift between men....and ugly wolf-men hybrids...They also talked about vampires at the place they held me for four days. We don't live in the world we think we do...I swear on mom. The girl I escaped with...they shot her in the back of the head. To escape from the basement I made the furnace explode...I killed people to get away from them, Kenny. I became a monster to escape monsters. I would never make that up," I declare, and Ken's eyes widen as he digests my words.

The girl took it, pulled herself up, and together they followed the warmth and noise back into the hollow of the house. — Later, as the council—old and new—crowded the main room, someone called for a story. Not the true kind, but the kind that made survival feel like a myth ripped from bone. Elena took her seat at the head of the ragged table. The new blood sat close, alert, expectant. She cleared her throat and let the silence bloom. “This is the story,” she said. “Of the house that ate its own nightmares. Of teeth and blood and the bitter cold that never let up. Of monsters who were just people with no one left to bite.”

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.

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.