Minecraft Creepy Stories Novels & Stories

The tall trees that barely sway in the spring wind, the quiet chirps and whistles of birds and squirads, the sweet, fresh smell of nature. Cyran and I used to come here when we were little. Just the edge of the woods, though. The older kids poisoned our minds with tales of spindars and giant lizards, the mad croc-genns and shadow walkers. Granted, they were not wrong. But those creatures live on the other side of Quindar, in the forsaken Leftydes. I just wish I had known that years earlier, before the times Cyran and I would bolt from the place at the slightest uncanny sound.

"It will take a lot of focus, and that's where the twist is." I announced. "What twist?" He stopped us. "We have moved quite deep into the cave and if there is a total black out without lights, we will release the crackens." I announced. "That sounds bad. What are crackens?" He asked me. "Let's just say that they are giant flesh eating insects that thrives in the dark and senses fear as their sense of mobility. They can't see but they are triggered to move towards your fear." I said. "Well, that's simple then. We do not need to off the torch. You will just cast the spell then."

Epilogue: Now that I have written several of these stories, I find that my old ghosts have started to haunt my dreams yet again. It is amazing that once things are written down, they begin to take on a life of their own. Just remember, if you don’t want things to go bump in the night, don’t tell anyone else about them.

Sam remained oblivious, lost in the chaotic energy of the party downstairs, but the secret sat heavy in Lena's chest. By Saturday night, the Maddox house was a feral beast. The floorboards vibrated with the heavy thump of bass, and the air smelled of spilled tequila and sweet smoke. Lena moved through the kitchen like a ghost, weaving between bodies she didn't recognize. She had played the game. She had laughed when Sam laughed and took the shots when they were offered, but her skin felt like it was buzzing with a current she couldn't ground.

I gulped hard as I peddled my way to the creek, greeting some of the townsfolk on the way when I got stopped by Mrs Maisel, another fanatic of the supernatural. “I heard you’ve been hanging around Monsoon Creek Rory,” She said whilst trying to crack a nut with her fingers, the woman was a nutcase, “You better be careful. Werewolves and Vampires are looking to prey on a beautiful soft lass as yourself.” I rolled my eyes in disbelief, “Wolves, Vampires and whatnot don’t exist Mrs Maisel. I’m pretty sure it’s just a cooked up story by some story tellers from your—

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.

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

THE END? Not quite . . . Have you tried Beatrice Beecham’s Cryptic Crypt: A Supernatural Adventure/Mystery Novel by Dave Jeffery? We included an excerpt from the book if you keep paging. Or dive into more Tales from the Darkest Depths: Novels: The Mourner’s Cradle: A Widow’s Journey by Tommy B. Smith House of Sighs (with sequel novella) by Aaron Dries Beyond Night by Eric S. Brown and Steven L. Shrewsbury

I asked, and I can hear the annoyance in my voice. “Yeah, they’re annoying crows, and they have deadly claws, but the claws won’t kill you; they will make you hallucinate; you see horrible things for two weeks. I've heard stories, people wanted to legit take their own lives after what they saw,” he shakes his head. “I wouldn’t want to experience that.” “Those evil bitches.” I say, referring to the witches who hexed me. “Yeah, they really hate you.”

I was the girl who poured their drinks, cleaned up their crumbs, stood off to the side with my head low. But I listened. Every night, I listened. And my favorite stories—the ones that sent chills down my spine—were about the rogues. Greywin would say, “They don’t walk like us. They stalk. They don’t breathe like us. They sniff, they growl. And when you hear a branch break in the middle of the forest, child, don’t run… they already know where you are.” I remembered the way the girls would huddle closer, giggling but scared. But I wasn’t giggling. I was barely breathing. I always held my tray tighter and leaned closer to hear more.