Point Horror Books Novels & Stories

As he made his way across the room, he glanced at the bookshelves he passed but saw no books here that were turned upside down. Upstairs, he placed the book on an entry table in the hallway then paused, ears alert for any sounds like he’d heard this morning. Despite his love of horror, or perhaps because of it, Brad had never been easily unnerved. Scary movies, haunted trails and spook houses, most had little effect on him, and as for real life, he reserved his fear for things like disease, natural disasters, catastrophic accidents. It took more than an empty house to give him the creeps. Usually.

It simply disintegrated, then reappeared back in the car. “Sick bastard,” I spat. He'd been stalking me. I tore a slim black book from the rat pile. Book of Psychopomps was etched on it in gold ink. Numbers, emails, and old-fashioned addresses accompanied names, written in no apparent order. I rifled through the pages: “Old farts: ODIN, MORRIGAN, YAMA, HERMES....” and “New pests: ANAESTHESIA, AIDS, SANTA MUERTE...” A red ribbon marked a page at the back. “Accessories: SHANNON PARKER.”

This shadow, this darkness with fangs, it had the power to stipulate how they dreamed and that made him crazy with need to blow the creature’s head off. “This is a local legend about nightmares, a satanic sorcerer, and black magic. It is titled as Shadows and Blood, and is 50 years old. Folklore, through songs and words and this guy had recorded it down, a little and a lot of his own story.” She looked at the book, biting her lips, forehead crinkling in concentration. “Sound gory and ancient and I have never heard of this.” Art said as he struggled to open his tired eyes. It burned from the lack of sleep. Aurora looked tired as well, but she was dogged to finish the book, to find anything mo

This should be for one of the young ladies in this apartment who walk out elegantly in the morning looking like people who don't live in this old apartment. I can't dispose of the flower so I open the door and enter with it. I drop it on the table before walking slowly to my cane chair to sit, watching the view out of the window to soothe my frustration before I begin to read the new books I got. I got ten books and for once in my life, I want to give horror a try. I hope I won't end up screaming till my baby pops out of me unexpectedly. I chuckle to myself as I slouch into the chair.

I kept hearing metals bending and twist sounded so strange. Fear and curiousity played with me,Something was wrong for sure. I pushed opened the door to the end.My heart racing snd my hands and feet’s cold as ever. I couldn’t believe what I saw with my two eyes. It was Karl!!! He stood with his back to me, his body was positioned in an impossible strange position.His muscles writhed beneath his skin, it was shifting and bulging in a way that question human anatomy.His spine pointing out sharp ridges like a jagged mountain.His hands spread against the steel locker,were tearing through the metal as if it were paper,leaving long and brutal marks.

(Harper’s POV) “I’m sorry, what now?” I stared at Harry, dumbfounded. He flicked through some more pages of the book and then turned it to face me. I apprehensively looked down at the book. The page was titled “Bloodline” and there was a picture of a wicked-looking blade down one side. The writing was a little faded and handwritten, but despite all that, it felt so familiar and I could read it, like it was something I had read a thousand times before.

Sa loob nito ay naroon si Lotus Feet, Ghost Bride, at iba pang mga multong Intsik. Ang ikalima ay Western-inspired – kahawig nito ang white palace sa Lord of the Rings at makikita sa loob ang mga characters sa Autopsy of Jane Doe, Saw, Wrong Turn, Insidious, Conjuring, Jack the Ripper, mga halimaw sa Resident Evil at iba pa.

“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.

Without looking to Owen for confirmation, I say, “We do. Please, explain.” She opens her bag and removes a few tattered paperbacks. The spines are unreadable, they’ve been cracked in so many places. One is missing a cover. All of them have a forest of neon tabs jutting out from their sides. I hear Hannah’s audible gasp of delight and admiration. I’m surprised she doesn’t ask for the brand, style, and inventory number of the tabs. “Our pack is so obsessed with the story of our origins, that we ignore the story of our ending.” She opens one of the books and it lays flat, pages perilously close to falling out. There’s a woodcut illustration of Fenrir devouring Odin.

Because he had just been ripped apart. I turned around slowly and stared at the “pet” who had done the ripping. He still had blood on his face, but somehow looked… innocent. “I was hungry,” he murmured. Maybe it was my imagination, but his pupils looked a little sharper than before. [Wow. Trying to slut-shame someone in a horror dungeon? He had it coming.] [Pop the champagne. Ding-dong, the jerk is dead.] [Lol the stans are out. She can sleep with monsters but nobody can call her out?]