Long Spooky Stories Novels & Stories

“How come you could see the air ripple, but neither one of us noticed?” “How the hell should I know?” She retorted, “I’ve always been sensitive with that kind of stuff, just like Spence has always been terrified of it. I’ve got some distant cousins living in New Orleans that practice voodoo, maybe that’s where it comes from. If it ain’t obvious, these aren’t the questions you should be asking. You look bone tired, but you didn’t five minutes ago. So clearly you were working some type of magic. I suggest you figure it out before—”

She munched her sandwich with some questions started emerging in her mind. Frank giggled. “Don’t tell me that he is a vampire that living in the mansion behind your family land!” He shook his head and was aware that Sonya’s fantasies to some extent, were weird and too magical to be true. He remembered Sonya’s imaginative story about a vampire who was living in the old mansion behind her family land after they spent their time watching an old horror movie when they were teenagers.

“Why do you think that is?” “It’s obvious. The locals grew up hearing all the spooky stories about this house, had it drilled into their brains this is one of the most haunted spots in the city.” “Power of suggestion?” Brad spread his hands and shrugged. “I’m just saying it’s at least psychologically possible that being fed a steady diet of those kinds of tales could . . . color one’s perception. Have you jumping at shadows and reading sinister intentions into the most mundane occurrences. I don’t think it’s inconceivable it could even foster a need to create circumstances that would lend credence to the stories.”

, Uncle Cameron took a long pause. I remember it was the Christmas holidays. All my relatives and cousins had come to our house for the Thanksgiving dinner. One of my uncles, uncle Cameron was very fond of telling horror stories to us. I was seven and my cousins a year or two younger and older. Me, Julie, Michelle, Sammy and Hailey had sat around on the rug in our PJ's listening to uncle Cameron's stories. He used to tell them with such dedication; raspy and spooky voice and all the required background noises; we all believed in his stories.

“The townspeople are now looking for the Duke and the Duchess of Sloria but some people in Hapsberg claim that they saw a skeleton-like creature at Elthezar’s mansion on the night he died. They say that a strange syrup scent was lingering in the air and they caught a glimpse of a corpse walking towards the mansion. It was decaying and wore half torn clothes. One of the villagers who saw that creature recognized that the dress was similar to a local girl who had gone missing.” A long stretch of silence follows his words. Antonio leans back, thinking hard. A skeleton-like creature with a syrup smell. It seems to match the description of creatures from fairy tales which they have heard in their

David grumbled, “After everything tonight, and that is the one thing you have a problem with?” “Sorry,” stated Hank, as he turned his glaring eyes on the other man. “But things like that don’t normally happen.” “What about the ghosts,” asked David with a tone of sass in his voice. “That I can believe,” the police detective growled at him. “I have heard many stories around Spokane and other areas about haunted places. But never have I heard about people changing shape to animals being true!”

Anyway, he kept saying that there are horrible creatures that lurk in the darkness here… While growing up he told me the story of the time when he was ten years old, his dog ran out of his family home—this townhome, the home I’m just about my home until my dad gets out of jail and the social worker says I can go back. He goes on and says that he watched his dog die that night being eaten alive by a wolf-like humanoid that he himself barely made it back home to safety. Then there were these stories of the locals being blood-sucking vampires and all the BS surrounding that subject. Oh and the witches of the forest and the great lake—supposedly they lure pregnant women to their deaths and drown

I moaned out, dragging in his scent as I bounced even faster, imagining that I was bouncing on his dick instead. My mom married him two years ago and since then, even though it was right, I couldn't stop fantasizing about it. About him. About his thick-veined cock. I had accidentally walked in on him getting dressed last year and his towel dropped due to how shocked he was. What I saw that day has been the reason I fucked myself, wishing it was him instead. “Nessa!” Mom called out my name from downstairs and I froze, my eyes widening as I quickly hid the dildo under my pillow.

But then again, it felt like something he’d been told about before. Spoiling. He remembered this part of those superstitious stories for some reason. Related to the unclean force was the superstitious belief in spoiling. One aligned with the unclean force could spoil another through the use of the evil eye or by means of a magical ritual. The spoiled person would be inflicted with maladies and misfortunes. Such as sickness, mental illness, deformity, loss of livelihood, and death. One type of spoiling was a form of hysteria called klikushestvo. It caused the bewitched person to shriek, curse, and fall to the floor. This particular belief only interested Slava because it was so wild. To think

She found it funny to tell me horror stories before bed. I remembered once returning the favor. I told her about Terry the ghost, a boy who’d died in an accident on the street across from our house. Terry’s ghost wandered our neighbor’s house where his family had once lived. Mom hadn’t slept alone for weeks after that, and she never told me another horror story. My mom was like me in some ways—she was terrified of the paranormal, or anything religious. That’s why her engagement to Bill had been such a shock. But even Mom had gotten braver, so why couldn’t I?