Pet Sematary Novels & Stories

"The Council is waiting. The Southern Delegation needs a formal signature on the—" "The signature can wait, Corvis. I’m looking for a different one." Althea stood up and walked to the towering shelves of Section 32. She climbed the rolling ladder, her fingers tracing the spines of the leather-bound ledgers until she found it: The Silas Guild Register, Volume 9. She pulled it down and opened it on the table. She flipped through pages of intricate diagrams and chemical formulas until she reached the final entry, dated fifteen years ago. There, in the margin, was a hand-drawn sketch of a swan. It was identical to the cufflink.

"How could you not have seen him? You were just taking pictures with us a moment ago—" I froze. The photo we had just taken was gone. Even the ones I had posted on social media and in the clan group chat had disappeared. What the hell was going on? "Child, I don't know what you're talking about," Helena said calmly. "The ceremony is still ongoing. Why don't you go back to your seat?" I didn't move. Instead, I turned to Elder Thomas, desperate for confirmation. "Elder Thomas, you saw my mate, didn't you? You said he had clear eyes and that my dad would be pleased!"

He owned nearly every one of King’s books and multiple paperback copies of his favorites: It, Salem’s Lot, Pet Semetary, Christine and The Dead Zone. He paused, frowning at the black leather-bound book stuffed between It and Salem’s Lot. It looked familiar, but he couldn’t place from where. He shrugged and passed it over, searching for the model of Christine he’d built about six or seven years ago . . . 8 or 9 10 or 11?

I stopped breathing; all I could do was nod my head as I got out of the car. It was summertime, and the weather was perfect. The sun had already set for the day, but I was still very comfortable in the little amount of clothing that I had on. This “party” was a homecoming party. My husband's best friend Mark had been sent to prison when he was only sixteen for shooting another boy in the head in what was thought to be part of a gang violence epidemic that the city was dealing with. He was now twenty-three and had successfully pleaded a case of self-defense. This “party” was for two and I was a present from my husband to get Mark back into the game. I stopped for a minute and tried to remembe

That makes Owen a nice chunk of change on the side. Walking towards his work shop out behind the motel, he passes the newest guests that checked in last night. Three teenage boys and two girls. They are making a documentary of locations across the country that had been the scene of a grizzly crime. They were telling him that they had already filmed nearly one hundred places, the most famous being the Lizzie Borden house, the Amityville Horror House, Ed Gein's house, Jeffery Dahmer's house, and the Vallisca Ax Murder House. They told him they were on there way to California to see the Manson Mansion. Owen feigned interest before politely slipping away before they could ask him to 'say a few w

As Sophia and I drove away, my phone rang. It was Luke. The moment I answered, he launched into a tirade. "Emma Klein, did the anesthesia mess with your brain? Did you forget today was supposed to be our ceremony?" "You finally had my attention, so why didn’t you show up?" "And why is there a coffin in the chapel? Why is my mother lying inside it!?" His voice cracked as he began to sob, crying out, "Why did my mother pass away? Oh, Moon Goddess, this can't be true!"

“Just go there. Serenity is fine, just shaken up. Your question will be answered there.” Marcus was speeding toward the GPS location where Serenity’s phone had been earlier, but he noticed it was now on the move. Serenity hadn’t realized she still had her phone tucked in the pocket of her denim jacket. Maximus quickly got into his car and drove as fast as he could to the cemetery. On the way, he called Matthew to arrange for additional security. He didn’t know who had called him, but something about the man’s voice felt familiar. “Serenity, do you know where Peter Palmer is buried?”

The first time it has happened, she had been terrified but her mother had told her that it was part of her gift. It had been difficult but Emma had gotten used to seeing dead people. Even the first werewolf she had killed sometimes showed up in front of her but she ignored him. "How much farther?" Steve muttered angrily. Emma could tell that he was nervous as he walked on. It was a natural reaction. The cemetery was a scary place. "There," Emma said as she pointed to a place that had overgrown with dead trees and grass. It looked eerie and unsettling as they neared it. Thirteen seven feet tall tombstones stood side by side in a semicircle covered by trees and overgrown shrubs. It was a sight

He opens his mouth to speak more, but the priest appears, ready to say the final prayers and finally give the go-ahead for the burial to take place. Some people cry as the old man talks about injustice, sadness and anger, but also hope and eternal rest. Sam doesn't blink. If only mortals really knew what death was. As the coffin finally begins to descend into the grave, a strange wind with a very familiar smell blows. Sam's nostrils immediately dilate. Could it be... A strange silhouette stands still, looking directly at the demon. No one else seems to notice. Sam remains motionless. The presence takes a step toward him.

BSI agents Smith, Jones and Rome gathered around a marble headstone in one of the Middletown’s cemeteries, the one closest to the Weston College campus. Beneath the marker, the sod had not yet completely grown back over the recently resealed grave, leaving narrow seams of dark brown dirt visible in the otherwise green grass.