Nightmares Stories Novels & Stories

She asked with a grin in his direction. "Better," he laughed. One time he had helped her in arranging the entire library with his magick. She was impressed. "Mama Bora, you look as beautiful as ever. I - I have a favor to ask." When he stopped, she waved her spongy, withered hands at him in a gesture to go on, "We are doing a project about local lore, myths and legends. Do you have any book suggestions on it? Especially something that talks about with nightmares or dreams?" He sounded too vague even to himself, but Mama Bora's eyes became dazed for a second and then clearer as she nodded to herself. "Also one about shapeshifters."

I said, brushing away strands of hair from my face. "Nightmares do not make wolves sound like they're dying. This…sounded as though you were fighting for your life. Tell me, what was it?" His expression stiffened as his brows pulled into a frown. I looked at him, but the look in his eyes told me he would not let this go. I sighed and shifted against the bed while he settled beside me. "Would you believe me if I told you some nightmares are memories?” Dominic's brows knitted together in confusion.

I covered him up and climbed into my bed, cutting the lamp off as I reached the top end. It wasn’t long before the nightmares started rolling in. Starting with mom, then dad, Larry, now Lola, and Tommy. All the people I loved, gone. Their deaths, or announcements replaying over and over until everything went black. “It’s our fault everyone is dead. Your father, Larry, Lola, Tommy.” It was Frankie’s voice breaking the silence. “You’re going to end up all alone because of us. Because you fell in love with two monsters, two brothers.”

I had failed her, despite promising myself that I wouldn't let her cry. My mood soured and I felt shittier than before. “Let's sleep.” She nudged, trying to place my back on the bed. I resisted. “Damon,” she sighed. “What if I have another nightmare?” I had had five nightmares in two days. I didn't think closing my eyes was a luxury I wanted to engage in anymore. It was as if the demons in my subconscious lurked around nearby, ready to yank me into darkness anytime I let down my guard and closed my eyes.

I asked, squinting my eyes trying to get a glimpse of the stranger. “Oh please I know more than your name bunny, I know everything about you” he said taking two more steps. “So you are a stalker then, how long have you been stalking me?” I panicked as I took more steps back. “I’m not a stalker bunny, I’m your nightmare” the voice said and just like the wind he disappeared into the shadows like he was never there, my heart sank into my stomach as his last words echoed in my head. I’m your nightmare.

“It’s kind of cute, seeing the nightmare of this school acting like such a puppy.” He pouted. “How did that name even stick to me? I wasn’t even that bad.” “Please.” I rolled my eyes. “I only came to this school a semester ago—how would I know? But according to Eli, you broke a lot of hearts. And, sadly, girls always fall for the bad ones.” I raised my fingers in air quotes. “Not all nightmares are bad, Cross. They called you the nightmare they wouldn’t want to wake up from. Though, honestly, I thought otherwise when I first met you.” I giggled.

I can hear the women laughing about something, their voices warm and comfortable. For a moment, everything feels almost normal. Almost peaceful. But there's something that's been nagging at me. Something I've been trying not to think about, not to voice, not to give power to by acknowledging it out loud. The nightmares have been getting worse. More frequent. More vivid. Claire's face, covered in blood. 'His' laugh echoing in my ears. The baby that never got to be born. And in every nightmare, 'he' is there. Smiling. Promising that it's not over. That he's not done with us yet.

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 lay there for a few minutes, the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat a soothing lullaby in the quiet darkness. Suddenly, Connor's voice cut through the stillness, startling me. “You had a nightmare,” he said, his voice carrying a note of concern. I turned to see him lying on the couch, his eyes heavy with sleep yet alert, as if he had just woken up too. I nodded, a silent acknowledgment of the familiar cycle. This wasn't new; these relentless nightmares had haunted me for years, casting shadows over my nights. Back in Fae, when I was a young child, my cousin Corwyn would hear my cries piercing the silence. He would slip into my room to sleep beside me, his presence comforting, his hand holding

Jackson's POV. "This is your last chance, Jackson", he whispered, taking a step towards me as I flinched backed up against our dorm wall. "I know you touch yourself under your covers, imagining me taking you and ruining that tight ass", he paused stepping close and trapping me between him and the wall. "You imagine my hand stroking your dick, Jackson. Don't deny it, just say the word and I'll give you your wildest fantasies", he whispered as he leaned close, his breath hot on my earlobe.