Sandman Horror Novels & Stories

This isn't love; this isn't passion. This is hunger. The terrifying truth hits me like a tidal wave. Lucas is a vampire. I try to push him away, but Lucas holds tight, his grip unyielding. Feasting on my blood, drinking my life. I'm paralyzed, frozen in horror. I fell for a monster. And now. I'm his prey.

The girl's face looks nothing like Sandra. "What are you doing here?" asked Sami in a quiet tone as if the girl she saw was not Sandra and she didn't seem at all panicked or surprised. Yes he saw Sandra as with his wife who suited him. "What? Sami what are you doing to me?" asked Sandra whose eyes were glazed with fear. Sami frowned, she herself was confused by what Sandra said. She looked at the whole room as if she was hypnotized. A room that looks familiar

Those books were older than any of the others in his office. The bottom shelf (the one he’d been searching when he’d first heard the cats playing in the hall) held his collection of horror anthologies. The famed Whispers series, edited by Stuart David Schiff, featuring the varied works of Ramsey Campbell, Stephen King, Charles Grant and so many others. The Mammoth Book of Best New Horror from England. The Shivers series, published by Cemetery Dance. Masques, Borderlands, Shadows, Stalkers, Dark Forces, October Dreams I & II, Corpse Blossoms, Horror Library Volumes 1-5, and Prime Evil. Classic horror anthologies jammed next to paperback collections of slightly lesser repute with titles to mat

The witches closed in, their laughter echoing like a chorus of nightmares. Something inside Aqua snapped. A surge of dark energy, unfamiliar and terrifying, welled up within her. She felt her pendant grow hot against her skin, the clear crystal turning black as smoke. The air around her crackled with raw power as she turned back towards the attackers, her fear morphing into a blinding rage.

It seemed his suspicions were not unfounded. Dr. Sandman went on, "It was a poison called Amni Poison. While it's not lethal, it disrupts the memory nerves of the victim, causing them to forget the people and events they care about the most. Moreover, if the victim forcefully tries to recall those forgotten memories, it leads to intense heartache. It's like a barrier in their memory; breaking through it only causes unbearable pain."

I leapt in the air and I came down, punching him in the head hard and he stumbled back again. He spun around to try and punch me, but I just managed to dodge it before I kicked him in the knee, causing him to fall forward. I grabbed his hair and I kneed him in the face and he fell back on the ground. Samara was standing right in front of me and I took that opportunity to grab a piece of wooden rubble and I snapped a piece off of it and I lunged it straight into her back and it went through her heart. She evaporated into a puddle of blood and ooze.

It was a sound from somewhere much deeper than a mortal throat, a resonance that vibrated in the asphalt under Adreas's feet. "You said you were tired of playing human," Adreas replied, his voice trembling, but loaded with an incurable stubbornness. "What does that mean, Sam? What kind of magic trick are you going to try now to scare me?" Sam turned slowly. In the pale moonlight that barely penetrated between the buildings, his eyes were no longer just amber; they emitted a constant golden glow, like embers fanned by the wind. Adreas took a step back, his heart racing in a rhythm of pure terror. Sam's face was changing. His jaw was audibly lengthening, the sound of bones breaking and rearran

Eerie silence fills the once loud space, causing uneasiness to settle inside my gut; but I refuse to open my eyes, afraid of what I might see if I do. Lucern’s chanting soon fills the quiet once again. The image of Samara in my mind starts to glow with each word that he speaks. “Revertimini ad nos. Revertimini ad terram viventium. Revertimini ad nos. Samara Jones. Revertimini ad terram viventium. Samara Jones.” Come back to us. Come back to the land of the living. An ear piercing scream suddenly erupts around us, forcing my eyes open wide in fear from the sound. Horror appears on my face when I am confronted with the sight of the shadows sucking the life out through each prisoner’s mouths, t

“The Shadowfangs? No one comes back from there. Not a single soul who has ever entered those ruins has lived to tell the tale.” Ronan, his hands clenched into fists, took a step forward. “It’s not just a myth, Sam. It’s a place filled with curses, dark magic, and monsters. You can’t go there, not without the blood of a wolf. You’ll be walking into your own grave.” Samantha took a deep breath, trying to steady the pounding of her heart. She had expected this reaction, but that didn’t make it any easier to hear. She turned her gaze to the distance, where the forest grew darker and the shadows of night were beginning to creep in.

The music abruptly changed to a warbling sound of a record being scratched as the knife flashed across the girl’s throat. Her eyes sprang open in shock as blood gushed out of her neck. She grabbed at the wound, desperately trying to hold the skin together. Her eyes pleaded and her mouth helplessly opened and closed like a fish out of water. Boris, still smiling, simply stepped around her, took the hands of the skeleton, and started dancing. The music started up again as the girl staggered out of the frame. “GOOOD EEEEEVNINK!” boomed a voice. “VELL-COMME TO SAWW-TER-DEEY NIIGHTMARES!” Then a sudden gasp and an awful gurgle as the girl’s face sprang back into view.