Nightmare Sans Novels & Stories

Stories of death—and worse than death. His throat went dry, as a chill raced up and down his spine. Papa fucking Nightmare is here. The pounding on the metal increased, becoming chaotic, frantic. Muffled, unintelligible voices mixed with animalistic hisses and snarls. The same sounds he’d heard from those zonbis ripping apart Bernstein’s SUV. Something—or more accurately—some things wanted in. “Why don’t you go out to the highway and play “hide and go fuck yourself”?” he replied and hit “end.”

“Alright, what is this extremely vital thing you need to tell us? — Forma Roman, curious, as he puts an arm around the shoulders of his better half. I gasp for air and hold it in my lungs until the words begin to eAngelger from my mouth, recounting the pecuAmyr dream I had earlier today that I haven't had a chance to escape from my head, which is why I barely focused on any of my classes. “Did you see a merry turn?” Lara asks me when I get to that part, butting in and checking me out with a stitched brow and an anarchy brow. “Besides, individuals vanish in waves of green smoke,” I wake up, deciding to get to the point one last time and spare myself the irrelevant niceties. "Do you ever have

So he decided to yell out and provoke them again. “Come on little girls and boys! Don’t you wanna-” His taunt was cut short as his body suddenly burst open in a cloud of blood and guts. A split second later, the distinctive CRACK of a supersonic shockwave swept through the air around them. All of the goons immediately ducked behind cover out of fear and panic even as their dead comrade was still falling to the ground. “Heads down!” yelled Nightmare. “There’s a fuckin’ sniper out there!”

A jumper ghost was doing a handstand on the desk with its eyeballs stretched six feet out of their sockets. Every ghost here had scattered facial features. They were barely recognizable as anything that was once human. Severed limbs and mangled flesh lay everywhere, and the stench of blood filled the air. Cold sweat soaked through my clothes. I clamped a hand firmly over my mouth and refused to let out a whimper. "Stay calm. The worse it gets, the calmer you need to be," I muttered and reminded myself. I lifted my stiff legs and inched toward the corner, but my foot landed on something hard and round at the worst moment possible.

"Crazy?" Xanti asked. He wouldn't deny that he was also terrified when the conversation was about a ghost. "You can see his behaviors earlier, when he's speaking his eyes looking around and suddenly smile and when you entered I noticed him screaming outside," said Nash even though he was terrified. "What is he shouting?" They all asked. The three stopped shouting and started listening to them.. "My child....give my daughter back....Where is my daughter Casey?! Wait who is Casey hahahaha." They stopped when Nash suddenly did what the old man did earlier.

Gid, I knocked several times—-Ow," he said as he noticed the woman lying on the bed. "Nah, Uncle, I don't even know who she is, believe me," Gideon says, scratching his brow. Sam took a big breath, saying, "Never mind, go fix this and I'll come back to you later." and exited the room. Gideon nodded and looked at the woman. He walked into the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror, wondering how long he could distract himself from a nightmare he would never forget for the rest of his life. He returned his attention to his body, the scratch on his chest that would never fade.

She doesn't like feeling weak. “Exactly. I am the Alpha of Nightmares. What is a common thing of nightmares?” he asked, his tone taking on a sinister quality as he leaned closer, claws starting to dig into my skin. “They are dark and terrifying?” I arched an eyebrow doing my best to maintain my bravado. I would not whimper for him. He obviously gets off on that shit.

After that, Marcus stopped trying. Marcus had been convicted of fraud. Nothing violent. He was forty-one, with the tired face of a man who had spent his life avoiding trouble. Prison was supposed to be a brief stop, a lesson. But on his very first night, the nightmares began. From his very first day in prison, Marcus began having nightmares, always the same dream. He dreamed he was walking down a pitch-black alley. The walls were damp, the air thick with the smell of rotting fruit. Far ahead, a single streetlamp flickered, casting a weak yellow circle on the ground. Beneath that light stood a woman in a red dress. Her back was to him. Her hair was long and black, hanging like a curtain. And

I found myself in an unfamiliar bed, and it jolted me awake. The air was filled with the aroma of food. I looked around and found myself in a clean apartment. My clothes weren't changed, thank goodness. Someone texted me. Samuel. 'Working overtime tonight. Happy Valentine's Day, honey.' I scrolled through TikTok. Samuel probably had no idea that I knew his secret account's details. He had a short uploaded. That bastard was having fun with some ladies. They looked fresh and innocent. He had a good eye for them, I guess.

“Son of a bitch, “Dannie said in a sigh. She rested her forearms on her knees. With a slow, deep breath she waited until her heart finally caught on to the fact there was no danger. It was only a nightmare. Another fucking nightmare. As long as Dannie could remember, she had them. On a typical week, Dannie would suffer three to five nightmares. They were all similar in theme: death, mayhem, and suffering— all the good stuff. Though, she never actually had a nightmare with the deabru before. Usually, her nightmares were vague concepts and seemingly symbolic. The only time Dannie stopped having nightmares was when she was away from home. It was the negative energy thrown at her in this place,