Mil Horror Stories Novels & Stories

Margaret began creating a whole story on them, her theories and conspiracies too. And then, the case with Kimberly Silversmith happened. Followed by the gruesome trail of dead bodies, some of them mutants, all with brutal, inhumane, unusual bites and injuries that didn't seem like the werewolf mutants’ she was used to. Under the radar, she secretly followed the trail of dead bodies until it led her to the familiar Mickey's Pub where she met Leviathan Morganton. **********

Her Stalker is a stalker-age-gap dark romance not recommended for those under 17. Triggers include extreme sexual content, voyeurism, profanity, and dark themes. *Read at your own discretion. This story is about a stalker's love and determination for the girl he set his sights on a long time ago. Brixton started watching Harley, or his little bird when she was starting high school, and she never had a clue... But what happens when his secret is revealed?

If I had to guess, they probably didn’t get very many visitors down here. “Usss too.” It said back to me, and I swore I could hear a hint of sadness in the piercing voice. The answer left me confused, and even more shaken than I already was. These were the beings my village told ghost stories about. Horrible, malformed, and endlessly vicious creatures that had tried to kill their own mothers. They were the things that went bump in the night, and attacked without a second thought. What would they have to be scared of?

The next second, the Patchwork Monster tore the man in half. He tossed the body outside casually. Just then, a crisp, bell-like voice sounded outside. “It’s after work hours, who’s so rude as to be throwing bodies around?” A young girl with three heads and eight arms appeared at the doorway. With just one look at the shop, anger filled her voice, and her hair stood on end. “Who the hell had a death wish and smashed the Number One Must-Eat shop in the entire horror game?”

The door swung open, and there stood Chester, who was supposed to have been a fixture in the morgue for the past two weeks. I nodded at him, my face a blank slate. "It's been a while!" The relatives froze, their exchanged glances screaming silent panic. "Ah!" "He's alive!" "I said we shouldn't visit the morgue after midnight, but no, you had to see for yourselves!" "All this for a few bucks from selling their organs? It's not worth dying over." My aunt, gripping Theodore's arm and shaking it, wailed. I let out an icy laugh, lifted my hand, and gave Chester a slap that left a red mark blazing on his cheek.

Mel rolled his eyes surprised as to who was the overprotective one among the two of them. "Yeah it won't ,but it is not good for our skin either ." Claire commented. "You know I like this conversation ," Mel walks back to where his sister was . “I thought about the same thing this morning ." He continued. "Thought about what ?" Claire queried. Like this,” Mel said. “I read a book then about we vampires and it was full of several lies and myths. "Really?" Claire looked up at him. "Yeah, I am dead serious ." " First, there was something garlics —then us being scared of crucifix's —then something again about Silver —and then finally getting burnt under the sun."

I looked back at the pathetic human clinging to life on the ground and saw him looking at us, curious as to what his friend’s fate held. I licked the blood from my hand that was left from the first victim, who was still bleeding out against the wall, and I summoned my minion, Hex, who would tap into his wendigo form and eat his friends. I wanted to watch Bradley’s reaction as Hex devoured them, their screams filling the room, and their blood creating puddles on the cement ground.

“What aren’t you telling me?” “What you’re feeling is the effects of something called a morphling. It’s a type of paranormal parasite that attaches itself to a living being and feeds off their essence. It feeds off them till there is nothing left. The morphling is an automatic death sentence. There is no way to save the host because the moment it latches, the person's essence is corrupted, evil, there’s nothing salvageable of the host.” Ezra explained with a shrug and a deep sigh as he ran his hand over his face and through his hair. I blinked in surprise and looked at him like he was certifiably crazy.

The horizon was a jagged smear of charcoal gray and bruised violet. For three years, I had walked toward it, guided by nothing but the rumors whispered in the hushed, terrified voices of dying scavengers. They spoke of a place that held the line, a fortress of humanity amidst the rotting sprawl of the walking dead. They called it "Haven."

I don't even have his number! "Hello? Who's there?" I whispered. It was like a horror movie. The girl in the forest screaming and running for her dear life. Maybe it is Jordan. He is a douchebag but can he pull such a stunt just to scare me? One thing I learned from the horror movies I watch is never to scream and run so I backed away and tried to be in the shade because the moon was up and bright. I don't want to be spotted or watched by who may or may not be my predator.