Minecraft Spooky Stories Novels & Stories

Father had always talked about very pale creatures who roam the night looking for blood from humans, he called them bloodsuckers and he made sure to tell me stories about them every night before he tucked me into. So I didn't only get to learn about "The Cinderella story"! “Are you vampire?”I ask shocked and wishing that am wrong but the speechless and guilty look on his face proves that am right.. “Shit!, this can’t be happening,”I whisper quickly backing away from him.. As sexy as he may seem, have been warned about his kind, although I never took the warning seriously like who would? But it seems those bedtims stories are actually real! Here I was thinking my dad only told me those Storie

“Oh. So if I want a pudding, all I smell is that?” He nodded, leaning forward on the table. “Yes.” “When you said other paranormal,” My thoughts went to Connor and Reed. “Did you mean fairies, vampires, ghosts, satyr and werewolves?” All the people in the room audibly gasped and turned their heads to our table, fear written on their faces. I looked around nervously and flinched. Uncle Al shot out of his seat. “Sorry about that,” he chuckled then said, “there are no Forbidden here.”

"Thanks so much." Logan gave the old female some coins before they left and continued their tour. "This is the territory of the Clan of the ghost" he uttered pointing at the huge kingdom before them. "Stop Danny" he commanded and Danny did. "Wow, looks terrifying. Any mortal will shit in his/her pants if they sight this kingdom." "Lol. Nothing is terrifying here. Just vultures, skulls, Red pieces of clothes, spiders, snakes, and rumbling of the sky." "Is that all you see? And who told you there aren't mortals who got phobia for spiders and snakes? Also, do you think it's everyone that can bear the different sounds going on?"

Just remember, if you don’t want things to go bump in the night, don’t tell anyone else about them. Even now the shadows in my room play havoc with my subconscious, so I turn the light on and sleep with one eye open. Also, when my computer starts to go on the fritz just as I write a particularly spooky part of a story, I chuck it up to chance and swallow a little harder before checking to make sure that I have only one shadow. It’s amazing that I still get so scared as an adult. You sure would have thought that for someone who makes a living scaring people, I would know better, right?

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.

“Fine, we’ll let Hellfire tell us a ghost story.” “I don’t know any ghost stories,” I say. “What about you, Siren?” Venom asks her. “Nope.” “Well, then, it’s time the two of you become good at making up stories,” Intrigue says. For the next couple of hours, while Hacker and Sphinx work in the van, the rest of us make up ghost stories. I have to admit, Raptor is really good at making up scary stories and Intrigue is as well. Megan’s aren’t terrible, but Venom’s are, as they said, pretty stupid. I’m not sure mine are any better, but I made up one about the ghost that lives in the river, and it made everyone glance at the river we’re sleeping beside more than once.

“Do you think it’s haunted?” My breath sticks in my chest at her words. Before I can say anything, Jack laughs. “Don’t be stupid. Of course it isn’t haunted.” “Some people think it is,” I counter. “There have always been stories about this place, about the swamp.” The woman pauses as an uneasy shadow flickers across her delicate features. “What kind of stories?” she presses. Jack once again cuts me off. “Who gives a shit?” he chuckles. “Ghosts, witches, werewolves–that’s all kid stuff. The only thing we should be afraid of is the IRS.”

In 1983 a Mrs Carson of New York was laid out in our coffin, presumed dead of hear disease. As mourners watched, she suddenly sat up, alive as you or I. Unfortunately her daughter dropped dead of fright on the spot. I don't own any of this stories. I found them in some creepy books. I'm thinking of writing my own scary stories, but not anytime soon. You can send me your short stories for a feature if you feel like it. Thanks for reading. Enjoy!I don't own any of this stories. I found them in some creepy books. I'm thinking of writing my own scary stories, but not anytime soon.

I pulled it from the shelf and sat down at the table, flipping it open. The first few pages were filled with the usual stuff—founding dates, town milestones, and the kind of folklore that every small town seemed to have. But as I read further, the stories grew darker. Mentions of strange disappearances, shadowy figures in the woods, and whispers of creatures that hunted under the full moon. Wolves. My breath caught in my throat as I skimmed over the passages. It wasn’t just talk of wild animals. There were stories—centuries old—of people who could shift into wolves. People who lived among the townsfolk by day but became something else under the cover of darkness.

Something with eyes that had no whites. "Hello, Ellie," it whispered. "Grandma said you'd come." I ran. I'm writing this from the car. The thing is still in my house. It's waiting. And tonight, when I close my eyes, I know I'll see it again. Don't be scared of the monsters. Just look for them. Look to your left, to your right, under your bed, behind your dresser, in your closet. But never look up. She hates being seen.