روايات وقصص ضمن Read Fear Street Books Online Free

Her books scatter across the floor, the sound echoing like a gunshot. I freeze. Rhea drops to her knees, silently collecting her things, her head bowed. No one helps. The hallway is suddenly too quiet. Just the sound of pages flapping and cruel laughter. "Still pretending you belong here?" Fang-Girl sneers. "You don’t. Whatever charm spell you’re using won’t work on us." Is Rhea the only fae in the school? Damn. "I’m not using anything," Rhea says quietly. Another girl snatches one of her books and rips a page from it. "Oops."

Distractedly, I left the book I wanted to pull behind and walked towards the table. Lily’s light scent of flowers hung in the air, and instinctively I just knew that was where she had been researching the day before. Curiously, I looked at the books on the table. One of them looked older than the rest. It’s pages were already yellowed and a corner looked burned off. With a frown, I held the thick back of the book and closed it to see the cover. FAE: The primals in human skin. Goosebumps rose along my arms and I shivered as I read the title.

His voice fills my mind as he opens our mindlink. ‘I love you both.’ THE END This concludes book 1 of The Stone Sister Series! I know there are still many questions: What about Bram? What about The Underground? What about Sage? Be on the lookout for Book 2: Emmy’s Story, which will be titled Rejecting Fate! If you enjoyed this story and my writing, please follow my I G for updates and more! Thank you all so much! <3 JNS

“This is the diary of Amanda Crossfield. Should you come across this book while I am deceased, please read it. The dead have nothing to fear. If I am still alive, proceed no further. I will flay your skin in the open sun and coat your exposed insides with honey.” “Ouh, gnarly,” I hissed. But the blood. That wasn’t a mistake…it wasn’t just the air setting a mood. It was the smell of the book, and the more I read, the wider my eyes got. I was seeing things that my own mother wrote that made so much sense, and at the same time, just made me freeze with shock. By the time I was at the last page, most of the paper was covered and smeared in the red liquid that had now turned deep maroon.

Others sound like the beginning of horror novels. I drag a hand down my face with a quiet sigh. It’s like trying to find truth in fog. I click on another link. More confusion. A forum of self proclaimed “paranormal experts” debating everything from moonstones to blood rituals to royal bloodlines. My eyes skim paragraph after paragraph but none of it helps. If anything, the internet is only adding to the unease curling in my chest.

“And that place already smelled like despair.” I reached out. My fingers brushed the spine of a volume labeled DROWNED CARNIVAL. The second line glowed. CYCLE RANGE: 280–303 PRIMARY THEMES: FEAR / CONTROL / LAUGHTER_AS_EDGE I tugged it off the shelf. It was heavier than it looked. When I cracked it open somewhere near the middle, ink‑lines on the page rippled and rose up off the paper, coalescing into a scene above the book. We watched ourselves—smaller, flatter, a memory playing in three dimensions: the Ferris wheel looming, cars creaking, Maria’s hand on Jax’s arm, my own breath fogging in the cold carnival air. The text under the image scrolled like captions:

If anyone walks in, I could pretend to be making the bed, I think to myself. Quietly I pad across the floor and lift the mattress of the bed. The book falls with a soft thud to the frame of the bed. Reaching under the bed I grasp the book in my hand and the symbols glow brightly as they change shapes into letters that I can read. 'Prophecies of the Fae.'

, Rachel grunts. I want to say "Why", but I don't want to risk sounding like a creep so I whatever her and go back to going through the rest of the shelf even though I'd done that a thousand times before. I drag my hands across the spines of the books; Kara Taylor's Prep School Confidential, Carol Wyer's The Secret Admirer, and Megan Goldin's The Night Swim. You would be subtle to call Rachel a crime-thriller addict - she's more of a crime freak. The Night Swim. There is a piece of paper sticking out of it. I pull it out of the book. Something is scribbled across it in Rachel's handwriting.

In 1983 a Mrs Carson of New York was laid out in our coffin, presumed dead of hear disease. As mourners watched, she suddenly sat up, alive as you or I. Unfortunately her daughter dropped dead of fright on the spot. I don't own any of this stories. I found them in some creepy books. I'm thinking of writing my own scary stories, but not anytime soon. You can send me your short stories for a feature if you feel like it. Thanks for reading. Enjoy!I don't own any of this stories. I found them in some creepy books. I'm thinking of writing my own scary stories, but not anytime soon.

As soon as she closed her eyes, the dream continued like it was waiting for her to come back to the subconscious world. Amara shuddered with fear as if she was the part of the dream to see the vampire again. The moment his feet landed on the soil of Hamster, the birds making merry in the air of the blue sky made a preternatural chirrup flying away. The dogs howled as if a huge calamity is going to befall. The ether which appeared bright with rays of sun suddenly turned dark with loud thunders. Within a few seconds there was an outpour of rain as if the heaven was also moarning for the origin of disaster in the city.