Mexican Horror Legends Novels & Stories

She said, seeing him raise a brow with interest. "Go on." He nodded for her to continue. She bit her lip, looking around the dining room again. The other patrons appeared to be too involved with their own conversations to take any heed in what they were discussing, but Amira didn't want to risk anything. She shifted herself dangerously close to him, lowering her voice a bit to not draw attention to herself, "Even though we do go after the big names: Vampires, Werewolves and Dark Witches, we also take down creatures that hide in their legends. For example," She tapped her chin thoughtfully, "last summer while Jax and I were traveling through New Mexico, we took down a Skinwalker that kept imp

“Even harder to explain away is that there appear common threads to the legends. Nearly always, it has to do with the body of someone recently interred. With a body rising again. Almost always, the soul has died in a way which was unharmonious—a suicide, or murder, for example. Someone who had left the earth in a way of great calamity. In the legends, these unsettled souls rise again, after burial. In some legends, they merely visit their families; in others, they are more aggressive, and seek out blood. Blood is the common theme.” He sighed again. “Of course, viewed from another light, blood is a recurring theme in Catholicism, too. The blood of Christ. The sipping of the wine. The holy Gra

Muhammad and Susan exchanged a nervous glance, then followed, hesitant steps down the confined passage. At the end of the corridor, a vast, doorless room loomed before them. A crimson glow, like boiling blood, pulsed outward, the air grew scorching, and sweat dripped freely from their foreheads. They stepped inside... the ceiling vanished, revealing the night sky screaming with stars. The polished black stone walls reflected the firelight like infernal mirrors. In the center of the room yawned a vast pit where the endless flames raged, producing thick smoke that clawed into their lungs. From within the pit rose a **legendary**—its height reaching the heavens, soaring over eleven feet. Its bo

Published by Audio Arcadia in 2016 were DarkFire at the Edge of Time, Farnsworth’s collection of visionary science fiction stories, Nightworld, A Novel of Virtual Reality, and two collections of stories, The Black Arts and Black Secrets. Jorge Arenas Born in 1986, I come from Rio Piedras Puerto Rico. Due to my family's military nature I traveled the United States a great deal and that's where I found my passion, urban legends. Studying these brought me to another subject, horror. As I threw myself into the genre I found worlds that mirrored our own and experiences that I could feel in my soul. The books, movies and video games became my go to since I was young, and they continue to entertain

Sa loob nito ay naroon si Lotus Feet, Ghost Bride, at iba pang mga multong Intsik. Ang ikalima ay Western-inspired – kahawig nito ang white palace sa Lord of the Rings at makikita sa loob ang mga characters sa Autopsy of Jane Doe, Saw, Wrong Turn, Insidious, Conjuring, Jack the Ripper, mga halimaw sa Resident Evil at iba pa.

** 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

Marcus cast his eyes down as his shame covered him like a new winter’s coat. “ For now,Noah, please just trust me.” For a while after Noah left his room, Marcus stared up at the ceiling, feeling like the lowest form of life for lying to his best friend. How could he possibly explain to him that his dad and new girlfriend were being haunted by an ancient spirit, the same one who haunted his gran and her sister years before? “ Hello Marcus.” The voice which suddenly interrupted his thoughts, was melodious and familiar. Marcus looked to his side and by the light of the moon beaming through the window, he saw her.

And the memory of that scream, that growl, and the eyes of the monster… would haunt every survivor for the rest of their lives. The first strike had been made. The shadow had returned to the world. Aura had tasted blood, and nothing would ever be the same again. Even in his human form, he was terrifying, charming, and haunting—the embodiment of every legend whispered for centuries. And now, the hunt had begun. The night of celebration had become the night of massacre. Richmond would never forget. —

That kind of energy is bound to attract paranormal creepy crawlers like maggots to rotting flesh. But most people call those scavengers demons, especially if they have strong religious beliefs, like the Blotters and Father Thompson. Religions aren’t exactly prone to middle grounds. Everything’s black or white, so whatever doesn’t fit in the good lane is labeled as evil. I had the idea that demons are into living souls, not stagnant residual energy, no matter how foul, and that was why I thought we were most likely dealing with a scavenger. And I could only pity this entity, born to feed on echoes of pain, fear and violence, prisoner in a house so full of love and good memories. Of course it