Long Spooky Stories Novels & Stories

If the door was unlocked, they could have gone out and survived. I saw Jia glance at the empty seat beside me. I suddenly felt a chill. Dang. Don't tell me... One of their friends broke the chilling silence and scolded the storyteller. "Damn. Why are you telling such a spooky story this time? We are here to club!"

I started the journey, I walked for two hours, and I wasn’t scared as I had my sword, my backpack and myself. I got to the river. I was thinking of sleeping there but then I started hearing voices and it seemed like the cold night river. I have heard about that river and how it can be. It is a place where spirits roam but it is famous for the Tell Tale spirit. The Tell-Tale spirit is a spirit that appears to tell you your future and it is always bad, it rarely comes out though, it has been disregarded as one of those old stories. I turned around to get away from the river and then it became extremely foggy all of a sudden and cold too, fear gripped me immediately and I knew I was in for it.

she hissed angrily. They arrived at an abandoned hospital in the middle of nowhere, kilometers away from the main road of the city. Coos of the birds nested from the tall old Oak trees made the dark forest even more terrifying. The place was infamous because of the crazy stories about ghosts haunting people who dared to come there. Hence, a perfect location for their business.

"The problem, Sophie, is that you have the chance of changing what will happen in the future if you tell us what you know. Like I said, I can tell a dozen stories. You need to give me a reason why I should run your story over any other, or why I should even run it at all. There are millions of humans every day who pretend to be vampires, demons, and other supernatural beings. They dress up, wear fangs, and some even drink blood. All over the internet, people claim they’ve seen vampires, know demons, or are werewolves. Why is that?"

I asked. "I've heard the old people here speak of a demon baby which had last been brought to the earth five decades ago and grew up among humans. Draining them of every energy." She explained. "There is no such thing Peggy. Stop believing everything they say. It's not true." I opposed. "Then let me take my bath for St to be on the safe side. They had said that two people had sex without bathing on Halloween night and the woman only gave birth on the next hallo..." She said.

One time at work I'd even heard a co-worker called me the-Squidward-from-spongebob. Exactly why I hated them. That morning I'd just gotten up and, traditionally, said my good mornings to Sam triple zero eight, then the story stroke up. We were having a conversation of a book I'd just finished reading, 'No, Mr Harry Botter, do not turn me into a witch.' Believe me, it was a real book alright. The author was named Harry Botter, so he was the main character of his novel. Stories like that, what do they call them again? Paranormal stories, they were always fun to read. Partly because they were stupid, other part, they were nonsense. Nothing but ridiculous lies.

** My hands were firm on the steering wheel as Mikael and I journeyed through the darkened road. It had been one hour of us in the car, the city turning into country and the road transitioning into dirt and moist earth beneath my car's wheels. We kept conversation minimal the first hour because we were both nervous. Mikael, however, was more anxious than I was. He had never been to the Bayou of the Shunned, but like everyone else, had heard tales about the cursed swamp and the witch that ruled over it as its Supreme Sorceress. Sajida was the bedtime story mambos and houngans told their kids about to keep them in line; in the black community, Sajida was "that" woman that the children of voodo

“They are especially connected to the voodoo practiced in places like the Caribbean and Africa. It’s usually a witch doctor or sorcerer who brings the person back to life with a spell. In the last hundred years, zombies have become increasingly common in literature, and a bit later, in film. In these modern stories, it’s usually some kind of plague or radiation that turns hordes of corpses into flesh-eating monsters.” Leesa nodded. She had been right to come to Dr. Clerval. He knew at least a little bit about lots of supernatural stuff. “I know there’ve been lots of books and movies in the last few years,” she said. “Is there any chance some of it could be based on something real? Like the v

Aslan, despite his age at the time, was still reeling in young women eager for some kind of “experience.” But she had to admit, the mention of the manananggal earlier had sent chills down her spine. It reminded her of an old story she’d heard as a child. During gatherings and celebrations in the hacienda, the staff would tell tales about a woman who lived near the river, close to the waterfall. Supposedly, her body would split in half, sprouting wings, and she would hunt at night. It’s ridiculous. In her world of science and medicine, stories like that didn’t hold any weight. Still, it didn’t hurt to believe just a little—at least enough to make sure she didn’t end up as prey to some mananan

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: