Nightmare Parade Novels & Stories

What the hell? Naraja was beginning to feel weird, his head was starting to pound over and over to the point he wanted to claw the pain out, but couldn’t. He could feel his heart beginning to palpitate at an abnormal rate to the point his ears were ringing. He couldn’t focus on what was in front of him anymore. All he could hear right now were loud voices booming inside his head, but couldn’t distinguish between the voices, but they sounded familiar. Naraja turned his head ever slightly behind him and could see: Nai, Teresa, Minch, John, Isilia, E-li, Sunshine, Anima, and B-little. They were all far off in the distance on the other end of the corridor of the hallway. Painfully and naturally

Wes said, placing his fingertip on the print, “we can do Scandinavian vampires, which is also showing again tomorrow. Or, we can do Canadian zombies. Looks like this is the only showing we can swing for zombies.” “I vote Canadian zombies. I’m curious to see if they actually eat anyone or if they are just too nice about it,” Adam offered. “Seconded,” Sidney said. “After that, we are definitely going to the one about the haunted sex toy shop,” Wes continued. Sidney opened her mouth to speak. “Silence,” Wes said, lifting his hand into the air. “We’re going. And that gets us to the late showing. We can do an homage to Giallo or a documentary on sleep paralysis. I won’t vote since I’m enforcing t

"I bet, but I don't have time to hear your dirty tales. We are supposed to be on the road to meet the Nightmare pack." Chase chuckled at their pack name, like he did every time he heard it. "Nightmare is such a lame name. A little satisfying that we will make them kneel at our feet though. Mm, maybe I can show their Luna what a real nightmare is." Chase's eyes grew dark as he spoke. He was a horny bastard, and in all the wrong ways. "Go get changed. You and Drake can meet us there, and don't even think about skipping out on this meeting. We need to show them we aren't here for negotiations."

They were a very powerful force to reckon with. As for Nightmares, they were far stronger than Predators. Predators were strong, but a Predator could be taken down by a well-coordinated team of at least 7 Top Level Thrashers. But the same couldn’t be said about Nightmares. Nightmares were so powerful that they could easily dispatch off a Mythic Class, and even the most powerful Mythic Classes weren’t their match! One could recruit 20 Thrashers and send them off to kill a Nightmare, and fail miserably! The best outcome would be that one of the Thrashers escapes the fury of the Nightmare! That was how strong they were. Fortunately, most Nightmares were Mystic Path Warriors. And since that batt

I was someone who suffered from nightmares, but paradoxically, the darkness here, was calming. I dragged my feet towards his bed and that’s when I saw the frame on his nightstand, next to a Bible. This man owned a Bible? My curiosity fully took over from this moment. I flipped it open. Maxine Jackson. I frowned a closed it. Who was she? My eyes slid back to the frame and I picked it up. It was a picture of a young woman, probably in her early thirties. She had thick black hair and blue eyes. Alexander’s eyes were a dark grey, but the resemblance was uncanny. This was his mother and that Bible perhaps, was hers.

"Tell him whatever you think it is best 'cause I won't be showing up. If 'she is asleep' that comes to your mind, say it. Or 'she don't wanna come' it is fine by me, 'she doesn't want to see you' whichever way. I am not just coming." "Okay then." "Thank you as you do so," I plugged my earpiece, then laid back on bed. "Goodnight." **** (No! Whimpering! Darkness! Fire! Tears!) Noo! Not again! I pressed my back against the wall, folded up a leg, then I dug my finger into my hair. This is beyond me mum, dad! I can't handle this all alone. What is the secret behind this nightmare? *** The shadow was moving closer. It was following me all over again. This couldn't be Brad. That was not Brad. So wh

He introduced himself, "I'm Ronald Weeks, lady. Twenty-three years old, and I've just graduated from college. Oh, here's a gift for you." He took out a pot of mint, apparently from out of nowhere. The smell sobered me up, and I was half-amused. "It is Valentine's Day today. And you gave me this?" "Yes. I bought this for you," said Ronald earnestly. "Why?" "You're a beautiful woman, and yet you still came to this place on Valentine's Day. I'm sure you know that this place can give you something better than a relationship." No arguments against that. I grabbed Ronald's hand and asked him to drink with me. When I sobered up once more, it was already the next day. I found myself in an unfamiliar

She knew her nightmare will soon turn to reality and this nightmarish reality will make her life hell. Elena Singh was a 22 years old working woman like every normal women but was her life really normal like others? She was unique, she was talented, she was brave, she was independent yet she was terrified, not of anyone else but herself. Why? Because she saw dreams, or you can call them nightmar JJes, and because whatever she dreams comes true. Lately, She gets these weirdly terrifying nightmares which are scarier than any other nightmare she saw. Only if she knew, the MAN in her nightmare will soon turn her whole existence in to a living nightmare.

Nightmare was something Charlotte only see people experience in a movie, or read in a book, but she never thought she would see someone experiencing it. When she woke up in the middle of the night, she wasn't sure what woke her. The whimpering sound coming from Grace, or the fact that she needed to use the bathroom, either way, the latter didn't seem as important now as the former. If anything, it had seemed to disappear. There was something about the way Grace moved on the foldable bed she had placed on the floor beside her own bed for her the night before when she had brought her home, that made it seem like she was fighting someone.

In the middle of the night, the faint sound of a door opening woke me. I didn't turn on the light. I just lay quietly in bed, listening to the sound of bare feet on the wool carpet, coming closer and closer. The footsteps stopped beside my bed. In the darkness, a figure leaned over me, carrying a heavy smell of whiskey and that familiar trace of gunpowder. It was "Dante", or perhaps I should call him by his real name—Luciano.