Old Horror Authors Novels & Stories

After resting for a while, they walked around and saw a bookstore which they both agreed to enter. She was reading the back of Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen when Jacob asked her. “What do you say let’s read horror books? Like the ones we watched today?” “Eh? I’m scared. You go read first, then give me a summary, then I’ll decide. Haha!” “Roger!” as he picked The Dunwich Horror and Others by H.P. Lovecraft and IT by Stephen King. They finished book shopping, it was around three in the afternoon when Jacob invited her to go somewhere else.

As a means of continue writing, he keeps his grandparents close to his heart and mind for always encouraging him to not give up. Brandon Ebinger Brandon Ebinger is a horror/dark fantasy author who lives in upstate New York with his fiancé and two cats. He holds a BA in creative writing. He enjoys horror films,Gothic rock and punk music and video games. He is a huge fan of haunted attractions, and spends October as a haunt actor. Brandon has written four horror/dark fantasy novels, Ash, Hollow Hills, The Afflicted and Rose. He has also published a handful of short stories within the genre. He has recently finished his most recent novel Broken Night and is at work on a new one.

“Were these any help, detective?” “I’m afraid not,” I said, defeated. I was in a bit of a daze after staring at projected newsprint on the dim screen. I leaned on the desk and looked around the building absentmindedly until my eyes finally settled on a small sign hanging on a table covered with a neat stack of books. “Warning: The Library is Not Responsible for Nightmares!” I read out loud, walking over to look at the books. Well-worn volumes with pink skulls grinning back at me from stickers on their spines. Dracula. Frankenstein. The Invisible Man.

Who was he, King Solomon of old? I didn’t doubt the Blotters, but I was getting to think that whatever was in the basement couldn’t be a demon. I mean, not a demon-demon, hooves, horns and a pretty condo waiting in hell. My money was on something down the food chain. Ghost hunters like to investigate places marked by tragedy, like old prisons and abandoned asylums, where negative emotions had left an indelible residual imprint on the buildings themselves. That kind of energy is bound to attract paranormal creepy crawlers like maggots to rotting flesh.

“Yes, that's exactly it. That was very insightful. What other authors do you like? “Oh, several. She looked at me then. Her eyes sparkled as she spoke. “I've read all the classic science fiction authors, of course. Asimov, HG Wells, Frank Herbert. I especially love science fiction when it intersects with horror. "So you're a big Lovecraft fan?"

She opened it—pages parting easily now, as though the book recognized her exhaustion and offered no resistance. She flipped past the early chapters she had already memorized. Deeper. To the sections she had only skimmed before, too afraid to linger. *Control of the Undead* The script here was denser, colder. Diagrams of binding circles, sigils of domination, lists of names for the restless dead. Zombies—simple thralls of flesh, bound by will alone. Ghouls—carrion-eaters, drawn by hunger, controlled through offerings of meat and bone.

But was it the happy ever after for the royal kingdom and people of Hamster? The dead body of Otaku was found by some Aghoris who passed by the way. They were experts in practice of black magic and sorcery. With their evil powers they brought Otaku alive. For the wickedness he nurtured in his body and blood, Otaku became a master in Tantrism. He is now no more a human who has life principled to birth and death but a vampire, a sex hungry beast and a lust filled addict who had mastered on sorcery.

“I believe you Polly,everything you said about this place is true…its haunted!At first I only felt it,but now… I have seen this evil with my own two eyes!” “Oh God!”Polly gasped.She wasn’t crazy after all.The last five months had been nothing but sheer torture.Even Royce thought she just had a fanciful imagination,but now her own sister had become privy to the manor's supernatural aura. What was this darkness clouding her marital home?What did it want? “I was getting dressed,”Ginny continued.”All of a sudden I felt the room grow cold.I thought I must have left the window open,but when I checked it was closed.The cold seemed to come from everywhere.”

The next second, the Patchwork Monster tore the man in half. He tossed the body outside casually. Just then, a crisp, bell-like voice sounded outside. “It’s after work hours, who’s so rude as to be throwing bodies around?” A young girl with three heads and eight arms appeared at the doorway. With just one look at the shop, anger filled her voice, and her hair stood on end. “Who the hell had a death wish and smashed the Number One Must-Eat shop in the entire horror game?”

But they didn't want to put their men at risk and passed the request to the government of Murmansk, Russia, as they were the ones working directly with Mary Van Helsing. Margaret had finally given Occisor the books that addressed everything about lycanthropes, from the brothers who disputed the title of god of the moon, to the beginning of the hunt and enslavement of humans for his kind. "Occisor," Mary caught the attention of the young man who was quietly eating his meal. Still chewing, he looked at her and raised his eyebrows. "Margaret," Mary called. Margaret, who was eating her potatoes in silence, also looked up.