Popular Horror Stories Novels & Stories

"And you have pissed me off." He believes me. Suddenly he believes every horror story he has been told since he was a little boy. That they were all true: the dead things hungering for the warm living flesh; the bony hand coming out of the closet in the black of night; the monsters from another page of reality, the unturned page--who could look so human, so cute. He reaches for his gun. Too slowly, much too.

“They are especially connected to the voodoo practiced in places like the Caribbean and Africa. It’s usually a witch doctor or sorcerer who brings the person back to life with a spell. In the last hundred years, zombies have become increasingly common in literature, and a bit later, in film. In these modern stories, it’s usually some kind of plague or radiation that turns hordes of corpses into flesh-eating monsters.” Leesa nodded. She had been right to come to Dr. Clerval. He knew at least a little bit about lots of supernatural stuff. “I know there’ve been lots of books and movies in the last few years,” she said. “Is there any chance some of it could be based on something real? Like the v

I’ve even met Lucifer, for fucks sake, and yes, I do mean the Devil himself. There are many unexplained things in this world, many religions, God’s, Goddesses, shifters, elves, fairies, demons, angels. You name it; it exists; the stories didn’t come from nowhere. However, most of what is written come from humans who’ve seen something out of the ordinary. They then add a bunch of bullcrap into the mix, and that’s how horror stories are born. However, all of these beings I’ve met, and I’ve never been nervous before. As Princess of Zidiah, I was taught from birth how to hold my head up high in the presence of others. As an Alpha, it comes naturally to be in charge.

Malcolm Jameson stood in the doorway of his penthouse suite and looked out onto the Manhattan skyline. He was hungry and irritable. If that oaf, Peter, didn’t arrive with his dinner soon, he’d eat him instead. He’d seen so many changes in his four hundred years of vampirism, but none so great as the way mankind buried knowledge and facts about the supernatural and magic world in mythical tales and lore. Had that not been the case, he questioned if he and his vampire family would still be around. Modern equipment and science had progressed to the point they could easily track them down and kill them. Of course, first, they’d have to believe they existed.

This is just how people are trying to end my life, bit–by–bit. The sky changed its colour from blue to black. The thunder struck from the distance and lightening flashed lit up the horizon. This is how they want my life to turn to, causing me darkness, pains, sorrow. They want my life to make the loudest voice to people. They want my story to be heard, my life to be ruined. I wouldn't allow that, not anymore!

The second one made more sense but it was also the one that I had the most doubt in being the truth because of the duration and everything happening and what I was hearing that I didn't know before. I had given up on finding anything in the local libraries or even on the internet because everything that came up in searches was folklore and creepy stories of people who swear they have seen the undead and everything else parents use to scare us, children, into behaving ourselves. Some of the sites I had ended up on had seriously scared me a lot more than the three men who had turned into vicious beasts and nibbled on a moving car's tyres.

In a quaint, secluded village, a chilling legend lurks in the shadows. When the full moon rises, a bloodthirsty creature stalks the streets, leaving behind a trail of mutilated corpses. The locals whisper tales of a dark family secret, but no one dares to venture into the woods at night to uncover the truth. No one has ever attempted to do it for they are scared of what the outcome of their living would be. The bloodthirsty creatures roared, causing the kids to shiver, and the adults to hold back their tears as they prayed for safety.

His parents attended an important dinner function at the Moonstar Hotel by the Bay View Area and they told them that they might come home late. A slight breeze blew from the West. Old folks used to tell in their bedtime stories by the fireplace that this is an ominous sign. They say that vile creatures hunt for their prey during these times. Mark knew all about this since he is an avid fan of mystery-horror stories. Yet he told himself a thousand times that evening these are just figments of his wild imagination. Nothing horrible is going to befall his parents. They are both good souls and God is watching over them from above.

Nothing was tidy. Ashford's voice drew me back. "And while we examine these events, consider the stories whispered alongside history—legends that grew in the shadow of war. Accounts of spectral soldiers, creatures that struck fear in the night, even rumours of vampires and lycanthropes in the borderlands. Some claim myth arose to explain horrors that cannot be rationalised; others insist the world is wider, stranger, than history alone can tell." My fingers tightened around the pen. Centuries of lived experience, of watching humans grasp at shadows while the truth prowled beneath, stirred in my chest.

My eyes widened, and before I could stop myself, a short, disbelieving laugh escaped my lips, my hand flying up to cover my mouth. “Is something funny?” my boss asked, his eyes flicking toward me suspiciously. “He… he’s the one that committed those murders? Or am I seeing things?” I muttered, my voice low as I stared, my heart starting to pound again, a strange mix of shock and disbelief settling over me. “He is the one who killed over thirty people and got severely injured,” my boss replied, looking at him again, his expression unreadable.