Paranormal Horror Books Novels & Stories

"Elias, she’s so hungry." "She’s gone, Clara! That isn't her!" I shouted, though I wasn't sure who I was trying to convince. That was three nights ago. Since then, the haunting has turned aggressive. We tried to sleep in the living room, but the smell followed us—the cloying, sweet scent of lilies mixed with something sour and metallic. We found tiny, damp handprints on the glass of the television. They weren't made of dirt. They were gray, smudged traces of something that looked like ash and formaldehyde.

She poured herself another glass of cheap red, already on her third, and dropped onto the couch in her pencil skirt and blouse, buttons half undone. The city lights through the rain-streaked windows. Her laptop was still open on the coffee table, case files glowing like accusatory little rectangles. She should sleep. Instead she reached for the dusty old book she’d bought on a drunken whim two years ago at that weird occult shop downtown. *Daemonologie for the Modern Woman.* Stupid. But tonight it felt like the right kind of stupid. She flipped it open, scanned a page at random, and slurred the words under her breath. Latin? Probably, didn’t matter.

The books they had on the subject seemed sadly outdated and she silently wondered if this exercise would bear results. Eli, being the Head Librarian, was able to sniff out what they needed fast, and she was sure the seven books on the desk were about all he could find. Most of them dealt with hauntings and spirit possessions, but none it seemed, could tell her how to kill an evil spirit. Not just banish it, but kill it and send it hurtling to hell, where it belonged.

The word burned in his mind like a brand. He stalked past the familiar sections—Werewolf Histories, Lunar Cycles, Pack Law—until he reached the dimly lit alcove marked "Supernatural Relations." His claws pricked his palms as he yanked out the first relevant tome: The Bewitched & The Beastly: Supernatural Attractions. The wooden chair protested as he threw himself into it, the lamplight casting jagged shadows across the pages. Dust motes swirled around him as he flipped to the chapter on witches.

"I was normal before this month. Maybe cursed, but not like this." "Cursed how?" "I've always had nightmares," she admitted. "Voices. Fire. And sometimes I wake up with my hands glowing." Kael's jaw tightened. "Then it started long ago. The flare in the forest was just the first time it broke through completely." She exhaled shakily. "You talk like you've seen it before." "I have." He turned away, running a hand through his hair. "The last time it happened, the Bloodbound burned everything in a hundred-mile radius."

“They’re not here. I haven’t sniffed out any in this town. Plus, it’s daylight. They can’t come out during the day.” “What about if they had a magical amulet or something?” He widened his eyes. “Well. . .sure. But not many have them and. . .how did you know that?” “The Craving series. It’s these paranormal romance books that talk about vampires. They mention witches and werewolves too, but not as much. It’s mainly about vampires.” Maddox watched her with fascination. Although he was naked and bloodied, she was too out of it to notice. Keeping her talking about the books would be the best way to keep her relaxed.

She continued to look down at the book, refusing to make eye contact. “How do you suppose your journal got there?” he asked. She looked him in the eye, doing her best to keep a straight face. “I was walking home last night, and I lost it somewhere. Maybe they found it.” He studied her. Finally, he said, “Maybe.” They stood there, in silence. “The weirdest thing of all,” he continued, “is that, before I went completely unconscious, I could have sworn I saw you there, standing over me, yelling at those guys to leave me alone….Isn’t that crazy?”

He barks out a laugh, making me jump in surprise. "What kind of witch are you? Can you not read?" My cheeks heat up more, but now from anger. "I can read!" "Really." He flips the book shut before leafing through the first few introductory pages. "'Demonology'." "What?!" I rip the book out of his hands. My eyes land on the first few paragraphs underneath the introduction. 'Demonology: How To Trap, Capture, and Keep Your Demon. A How To Guide On All Things Demon Related. Magic, Curses, and Keeping Your Demon From Magical Outbursts'.

Maybe that is the reason why I have no problem in communicating even if I don’t talk to people much. ‘This Time I Will Not Love You' This novel sounds so hurting. I think I won’t be interested in this since I have no love life or whatsoever. ‘To The World I Wish…’ ‘Reckoning Love…’ ‘Mystery Caller' ‘Untold Secrets…’ ‘Unfolding Secrets…’ JUST WHY THE HELL DOES IT SOUNDS SO SPOOKY?!?!? “Alright let’s look for other books to read...” I tried to calm myself just to not let me feel the spookiness in the titles of the books I saw. A very interesting book caught my attention. Unlike the others, it was… handwritten.

I remember all my life in detail during those five years, but the last month of those five years that I went back to the past I don't remember, and I don't remember anything else about that fateful night, nor the person who killed me. Helena Mart interrupted again and asked, "What the hell is going on with this book?" Is it a fairy tale book or what? What does revival mean? What are these things that children do not even believe. A little while ago we were talking about a dream of werewolves, paranormal, curses, monsters and magic, and now we're going to talk about bringing back the living. sera interrupted her and said seriously, "Helena, stop this, let's finish this book." We said we could