Poems Horror Novels & Stories

My heart pounded in rhythm with the encroaching fear, and the once-peaceful haven turned into a labyrinth of shadows, concealing unknown terrors. Branches creaked overhead, creating ghostly symphonies, and the nocturnal creatures intensified their symphony of strange calls. A chorus of unseen entities echoed through the trees, creating na otherworldly cacophony that resonated with my growing unease. “Who’s there?” I called out again, my voice quivering. The air itself seemed to thicken with na unspoken tension, and the forest, once a refuge, now felt like na uncharted realm filled with unseen threats.

But before my fingers could even touch the metal, the door swung open on its own, slow and silent. It was pitch black inside. I couldn't see a thing. An icy chill spilled from the doorway. It carried the stench of old graves and rot. I stepped into the room, fumbling along the wall for a light switch. Suddenly, a little girl's shrill scream tore through the room. "Aaaaaah—!" A small, soaking wet figure with long, tangled hair lunged at me from the darkness! Her eyes were a dead, lifeless white. Her mouth was stretched wide in a horrifying shriek.

“Castle. Vampires. Throne with issues.” “Vampires,” he echoed. “Right. Should’ve expected that.” He tilted his head. “You write horror?” I blinked. “What?” “You said ‘horror,’” he pointed out. “Unless you meant your life, in which case—relatable.” A reluctant smile tugged at my mouth. “Both, technically,” I said. “But yes. I… wrote horror. Online mostly. Short stories. Flash. Some longer stuff. Nobody important read them.” “Clearly somebody did,” he said, gesturing vaguely at the bus, the windows, the [KEY AUTHOR CANDIDATE: FLAGGED] that had flso long ago. “But hey, that’s metal. My mom hated scary movies; she’d have lost her mind over you.”

She remained frozen on the porch. Ben felt the horror creeping through her chest as she stared down at the rabbit lying on the wood between her feet, its lifeless eyes staring up into the darkening sky. The blood spread slowly through the cracks in the boards. A message. Not a gift. A warning. The realization settled deep inside her with sickening certainty. He wasn’t asking anymore. He was preparing to take. The thought echoed in her mind long after the sound of the horse had vanished. And somewhere deep inside that growing fear, another understanding began to form.

They were images of blackened houses, broken bodies, and trembling survivors murmuring in fear. “They said they saw… shadows with horns,” Eden whispered. “They said the shadows walked through fire and didn’t burn. They tore through flesh like paper. One old man said he saw a child disappear in the blink of an eye. There was no blood. No scream. Just… gone.” Sophia paled. Her fingers trembled as she reached into the folds of her robe and pulled out a tattered, leather-bound grimoire. She flipped the pages quickly. “I’ve read this before,” she muttered,. “Long ago. When I was a child. The signs… horned shadows, vanishing people, soulless fire. It’s not mortal.”

I jerk awake suddenly as the chill in the breeze wakes me causing shivers to run through me. I lift my head slowly and realise that it is eerily silent. No insect voices carry on the air, and there isn’t a single sound of battle in the distance. Sadness fills me as I wonder if now all my friends are gone, because again I have abandoned them. I’d been able to see the light through the darkness but it hadn’t been able to stop me from plunging straight into the unknown.

The cover is worn and the leather is pealing off. I open it. Each page is all crinkled as if it's been used a lot. I look through the book. Poems? Each poem is so meaningful. Did she write this? INNER DEMONS: It's like a shadow in an eternal night It does not let you free it does not let you live in the light It takes you deeper into an endless tunnel It ensnares you with chains It pumps it's venom into your vains The darkness does not let it's prey go easily

The light illuminated the space, full of old objects and stacked boxes. As she walked, a loose floorboard creaked beneath her feet. She bent down to see what it was and, with some effort, lifted the board. She found an old book, covered in dust, with a leather cover filled with drawings of supernatural creatures. Scarlett’s heart began to race; something about the book drew her in, as if it held secrets waiting to be discovered.

Diego, Xavier, and Fiona cried together, their voices a raw symphony of terror and heartbreak. "No, Lyra. No, Henry. No one but I rules," I declared, my voice dripping with cold finality. But I was gone. Only darkness remained—thick, consuming, and alive with a sinister promise, a chilling maw whispering of endless torment, a hollow void pregnant with unseen horrors. The shadows seemed to pulse, as if breathing—watching—waiting. The air thickened with a cold, primal dread, as if the world itself recoiled from the encroaching abyss. And within it, something terrible stirred, unseen but felt—a promise of suffering yet to come.

She ogled at me angrily as tears threatened to dropped down her soft cheek. "Lov–" She hanged up her hand towards me and rushed back to her room. ~~~~ How are you viewing "nightmares" How is this going to end? 😶😶😶😶 ©Lharry's pen