Really Scary Story Novels & Stories

It's my seventh anniversary with Chase McGregor. I hide in his car's trunk while holding a pregnancy report. In my other hand, I hold a limited-edition watch that I've prepared for him. I want to surprise him and tell him we're about to have a child. To my surprise, I hear something that devastates me. "Chase, you're not really going to marry Daphne, are you? Lucille Gervais wants to marry you. As long as you do that, the North Sea's shipping routes, cargo operations, and drug trade will come under your control." "Help me set up a date with her. I'll break up with Daphne." My breathing hitches. I want to hear Chase object to this or show even the slightest bit of hesitation, but none of it comes. The pregnancy report slips from my fingers. I once thought he would be the father of my children; I thought we would have a happy family together. Now, my dream has been shattered.

My best friend loved playing 'jokes.' On my birthday, she projected my worst photos in front of everyone, saying she just wanted to 'liven up the mood.' When I was on my period, she deliberately gave me a defective pad. Even when she saw the stain on my clothes, she said nothing–claiming she was helping me 'get more attention.' After I started dating, she edited my photos into suggestive images and spread them across social media groups, pricing them like a product. When I finally snapped and confronted her, she just laughed. "I'm just helping you test your boyfriend," she said. "If he doubts you, then he doesn't really love you. How can you blame me?" Later, a man used the information from those posts to track me down and harm me. I did not survive what followed. However, when I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day she first shared those images.

The Andersons' rule was simple and brutal: the inheritance passed to sons, never daughters. So, I lived as a man for ten years. Even Winston Quinn, the one I had been promised to since childhood, had no idea. To him, I was just his best friend. After taking control of everything, I was finally ready to tell him the truth. Before I could say a word, Winston grabbed my arm, smiling like he couldn't be happier. "Sam, there's something I've been keeping from you. Louise quietly came back last month. We're getting married! She really looks like you." My whole body went rigid. That “sister” I had made up, the one who was supposedly recovering overseas? Before I could react, a woman who looked eerily like me peeked out from behind him. She shoved me aside, her expression sharp and smug. "I'm back, Sam. Stop clinging to Winston just because you're my brother. Have some shame. Otherwise, I'll tell everyone you've got twisted feelings for your future brother-in-law!" I looked at the arrogant impostor in front of me and almost laughed from sheer anger. She was Louise Anderson? Then who the hell was I?

I've just left the washroom when Vanessa Shallow, who has just returned from her maternity leave, covers her mouth as she laughs at me. "Wow, you really are quick when it comes to bathroom breaks, huh? No wonder your sales performance is increasing by leaps and bounds! I suppose it's all thanks to your ability to take off your pants very quickly!" Vanessa acts as though she's joking as she starts making faces at the male colleagues around us. "Right, I forgot how prideful young ladies are nowadays! They can't seem to accept such truths when spoken in such a blunt manner!" The colleagues burst out laughing in a lecherous way afterward. Their perverted gazes keep clinging to my legs the whole time. As I stare at Vanessa's slightly bloated face, my gaze grows cold. It seems that she's so anxious to get her position as the project leader back that she's willing to shed even her sense of shame and propriety. I take a step forward and speak up. "I'm not as skilled as you are when it comes to such things, Vanessa. After all, not everyone is capable of making Mr. Studdard visit their home every midnight during their maternity leave." As soon as my words fall, the previously rowdy office goes deathly silent.

For eight years, I was James Carter's secretary and secret lover. Eight years of giving him my heart completely. I truly believed he loved me back - he was always tender and attentive when we were intimate, seemingly caring about my every need and desire. But then I overheard him telling others, "She's nothing but a stand-in, just someone to satisfy my physical needs when I'm bored. Did you really think I would marry her?" In that moment, I finally found the strength to let go and stop loving him. I handed in my resignation and walked away from it all. Yet after my whirlwind marriage to someone else, why did he suddenly start searching for me desperately across the city? Now he's here with tears in his eyes, claiming I'm the one he truly loves? Wasn't I just his convenient replacement all along?

Losing my family, best friend, best friends family and fiancee all in one day was hard. Being called back to deal with a family issue seems almost impossible. They all still don't know what really happened a and I wonder what they will say when they realize they accused me of nothing and do I really care. This story is dedicated to Justin Blaine Lacewell and Floyd Lacewell. I love you cuz and wish you were still here with us. Uncle Floyd, you fought a good fight and I will miss all your stories.

On the first day of my position as the branch manager of the branch company, I tell my assistant, Derek Mahoney, to not follow me around, seeing as I want to scope out the actual situation at the company in advance. After entering an elevator, I notice that a male colleague has his hands full because of a box he's carrying, so I help him jab the button of the floor he wants to visit. Before I can even retract my arm, the female colleague next to me is quick to slap my hand off the panel. "Where do you think you're touching? Are you trying to get cozy with him just because he's a guy?" The male colleague is stunned, to say the least. He quickly spoke to her in a lowered tone, "Are you nuts, honey? That lady was just lending me a helping hand!" The woman merely pinches the colleague furiously before hoisting me by the collar. "Lending you a helping hand, huh? She's already rubbing up on you and trying to help you out in every way possible even though I'm around. Does that mean she'll start seducing you outright if I'm not here?" I frown at the woman's logic and try to be reasonable with her. "Ma'am, please show me some respect. I'm the new—" "You're new?" The woman cuts me off with a scoff. "How dare you seduce my husband on your first day here! You really think I don't exist at all, huh?" Seeing as the elevator has reached my floor, I don't want to waste my time on the crazy woman any longer, so I try to leave. Mistaking my reaction for one of guilt, the woman quickly grabs my collar and yell, "Now you're trying to leave after stirring shit up, hmm? A minx like you isn't permitted to stay in the company! You must get fired immediately!"

The weather is -4 degrees Fahrenheit in Snow Park. The menstrual cramps are too much for me to handle, so I can only crouch beside the snow paths in order to rest. The new beautiful ski instructor, Sandy Hatfield, who Owen Schultz has hired, skid to a stop all of a sudden. The flurry of ice and snow gets splashed onto my face as a result. "Oh my, the snow quality here really is amazing! Unlike a certain someone, whose health is weaker than that of an average child…" Sandy takes off her snow goggles before flipping the bird at me tauntingly. "A dainty maiden like you should just go home and enjoy the heater. Don't take up precious space on the snow paths!" Unable to take it anymore, I grab my ski pole and try to strike Sandy with it. The next thing I know, Owen comes skidding in my direction on his snowboard and quickly shields Sandy from me. In doing so, he knocks me to the icy ground. He frowns at me, his voice colder than the icy winds. "Sandy is a professional athlete. What she did is a professional ski move. Can you stop being unreasonable?" As I slump on the ground, I find myself staring at a pink turtle cushion hanging from Sandy's hip. That was a cushion I’d sewn for Owen over three sleepless nights before this trip, with a safety charm hidden inside.. Back then, Owen thinks this charm is childish-looking and embarrassing, so he has tossed it into the boot without looking at it. Sandy follows my line of sight and feels the turtle cushion near her hip. Then, she brushes the snow off the charm with a scowl on her face. "Owen told me that this is a piece of garbage that's taking up space at home. So, it serves as my cushion now. I don't think even old ladies are prone to making such lame crafts nowadays, right Brooke?"

I spent three years on a medical aid mission in Afrikad. During that time, my husband and I could only video call twice a year. In our third year, I missed him so much that I secretly flew home, hoping to surprise him. The moment I opened the front door, I froze. A wedding portrait I had never seen before hung in the living room. In the photo were my husband and another woman. Then, I heard a burst of chatter. As I looked closer, I realized the plants in the house had started talking again. The pothos stretched its vines toward the living room. “She’s back! She’s back! That woman is wearing the doctor’s pajamas again!” The spider plant snickered, “She claimed they were a gift from her best friend last week. That old hag comes up with a new story every few days.” The cactus grumbled, “Quit arguing. She’s bringing that other man over for dinner today. How do you think she’ll explain this to her husband this time?” The pothos replied, “She’ll probably call him her cousin. That’s what she said last time.” Just then, a woman walked out carrying a child. She was startled for a moment when she saw me. “Who are you?” I gave her a faint smile. “I'm Justin's mother.”

Nathan was the hockey team's resident troublemaker. On the ice he was cocky and impossible, yet every night he logged on right on schedule, humbly seeking guidance from the tactical god 'IceTyrant'. And me? I was Quinn, the team's invisible gofer, hauling gear and washing jerseys all day while the players looked down their noses at me. Then one day he found out who I really was. He backed me into a corner, gripped my chin, and said, "Quinn, I've got money, and I make the rules." "Reject me one more time. I dare you." Later the whole school saw it. That hockey captain, usually too cool for everyone, was chasing after me with a plate of peeled shrimp, "Baby, just one more bite. Please."