Novel & Cerita Long Horror Story Writing

In 1983 a Mrs Carson of New York was laid out in our coffin, presumed dead of hear disease. As mourners watched, she suddenly sat up, alive as you or I. Unfortunately her daughter dropped dead of fright on the spot. I don't own any of this stories. I found them in some creepy books. I'm thinking of writing my own scary stories, but not anytime soon. You can send me your short stories for a feature if you feel like it. Thanks for reading. Enjoy!I don't own any of this stories. I found them in some creepy books. I'm thinking of writing my own scary stories, but not anytime soon.

But was he strong enough to dent two motorcycles with only his hands? I felt like this research was starting to drive me crazy. I could hardly wrap my mind around all the stories I’ve been reading. Most of the pictures were similar to one another with the same wounds on their necks and pale white as the clouds. It was like whoever had done this had drained these people of every last drop of blood. Opening a new document, I began writing a new short story. A story about a charming vampire seducing a young girl. In the end, the girl becomes a vampire and began “hunting” in the city with the male protagonist.

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.”

As the stories got scarier, I noticed a few of the younger pack members huddling closer to their parents, seeking comfort and reassurance. Soon, it was my turn to share a story. Feeling the weight of the moment, I cleared my throat and began my tale. "In a small village, there was a haunted mansion. It was said that the spirit of a vengeful witch roamed the halls, seeking revenge on anyone who dared to enter her domain..." I let my imagination run wild, conjuring spine-chilling scenes and mysterious characters. The pack leaned in closer, their eyes wide with fascination, hanging onto every word I spoke. The suspenseful atmosphere made my heart race with excitement.

“Come into my lair, soup brain. I’ve got just the thing.” She followed me to the counter, plopping down on the stool like she was melting. “Writing not going well?” I asked, pulling jars from the shelf. “It was. Then it wasn’t. Then I saw Noah talking to a blonde in town, and suddenly everything I wrote turned into a horror story where people get their hearts stomped on.” I raised an eyebrow. “So, the usual romance process.” She groaned. “I’m not proud of the jealousy, Sienna. It just… appeared, like some green monster hijacked my brain. Then he disappears again for days, and I start questioning everything.”

Nothing like a little evening walk to think things over. I live with VAMPIRES for Christ's sake!!! We're not talking about your average friendly ghost! We're speaking of evil creatures than can drink my blood up in a few minutes. I must be the heroine of a fantasy novel. There's no other way about it. Because if it's reality, I'm gonna find it difficult to stay optimistic. Or else I'm only a secondary character who's I living her last hours. The little student who gets killed at the beginning of the story, it always works to set the scene. I should be scared stiff, but instead, I want to burst out laughing... It's probably my nerves letting go! Or just plain madness.

* The story is told from a single POV, and it doesn't change over the whole book. A trivia bit that blew me away: I picked the setting rather randomly, and later on, I found out I set my ghost story a stone-throw away from where Lovecraft set The Dunwich Horror and The Color Out of Space. Those coincidences I love about writing. Okay, enough gibberish. I'm just gonna breathe deep and hope for the best. Please let me know what you think with a rating, share and consider giving the story some gems! Any and all feedback is much appreciated!

Horror struck me like lightning, and I knew then that my worst fears had come true - my old pack and family had been brutally wiped out. “Hallie get back here now.” Hugh ordered me as he and Alpha Arnie chased after me, attempting to calm me down, but it was too late. I was already consumed by a need to uncover the truth. Ignoring their calls, I sprinted onward, disappearing into the maze of corridors within Moonstone Manor. Each corner I turned revealed more and more lifeless bodies, my heart breaking with every sight. The hallways felt suffocating, as though every step I took was leading me deeper into a twisted nightmare.

She just wanted to leave this place as soon as possible. Travis Blake suddenly stopped, but he didn’t put her down. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly as he said, “Are you afraid of watching horror movies? What about ghost stories? Imagine countless hands reaching out from the cemetery graves in the middle of the night. They grab your feet, and behind the tombstones lie the ghosts of the dead.” Hailey looked at Travis Blake, horrified. With such a blank face, this man was talking to her about horror movies and ghost stories in a cemetery!

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.”