Scarecrow Stories Novels & Stories

The few bears that still roamed the mountains were all hibernating comfortably in their dens. It could have been worse, Nicky and Teri knew—they could have been forced to share a tent with their eight-year-old brothers instead of with each other. But thankfully, the boys were in tents with their dads. The six of them had spent the last couple hours sitting around a blazing campfire, taking turns telling scary stories. Most of the stories were pretty lame, but Teri’s father raised some goose bumps with a tale of a crazed psychopath who preyed on campers, dragging them from their tents back to a cave where he slowly ate them alive. By the time he was done, the youngsters found themselves peeki

Jumping out, you give a start, I feel it pump inside my heart, looks as if I need black art, Yikes!!! Your not afraid? you silly girl, let me give another whirl a bony hand, sweeps & swirls tattered sheets they creep & twirl You do your best to discourage guests I'm prepared for any scary test Yes I'm different from the rest, & by the way, you mustn't know that I am blessed I'm not leaving, you may have guessed Some pumpkins happy some are scary the children here, they shan't be wary I am not, no I am nary

He called out to them but they didn't care to respond. “Camila! Come out!” he called out to his older daughter to come out of the house. A beautiful teenage girl came running out on her father’s voice. “Get them inside. They’re gonna hurt themselves!” Bruno said and stood up to step into the fields. Camila obeyed her father and set out after her sisters. She could see the movement in the field near the scarecrow. Ironically, most of the straws of the scarecrow had found new homes in crow nests around the field. Bruno pledged to repair it every time he saw it but always ended up leaving it for later. The miserable scarecrow, like its owner, longed for a break that never came. Camila and the s

My in-laws appeared without warning, and kicked me to ground while I wasn't expecting it. My mother-in-law stepped on my throat and reached down, tugging my hair gleefully. "We've already called the police! We'll get you arrested for committing arson and killing my son!"

Marcus said, grabbing a marshmallow and sliding it onto a skewer, "if it's up to me, I'm going to stuff you with marshmallows and anything else you want." He waited until it was perfectly golden, then placed it in my mouth, watching with clear amusement as I tried to chew and smile at the same time. "And if it's scary stories you're missing," he added, his eyes glinting mischievously in the firelight, "I can start fixing that right now." Several people around the bonfire leaned in, clearly intrigued by the idea of a scary story. "Oh, hell no!" Mia protested immediately, jumping to her feet. "I'd rather go to bed early than listen to one of your horror stories, Marcus!"

, then he tried to turn around, run to trip and hit his head on a tombstone and fall dead towards an open grave. It was when he pulled the scarecrow from its base trying not to fall, but with a bad movement, the base of the stick where the scarecrow had fallen with him, piercing him in the heart, finally dead, when the scarecrow fell apart, turning to dust and being the straw carried by the wind. The woman ran away in tears. At that time, the same thing happened with young bikers, bakers, police, bandits, all were chased, forced to run for their lives, some tried to leave, but were induced to flee, running towards the cemetery, when the crows attacked them.

Jack, Herne, and Warren didn't move a muscle, when faced with the spectral image of the woman. Traditional buckskin adorned the slender body. She raised her hands above her head, "Well are you going to help? You are members of the Scald Crow aren't you?" Jack and Herne took a step back from the phantom, and pushed Warren forward, "You go, whelp."

It was carved into the shape of a smiling Bhramuth, and the warmth of her skin lingered on it. Now, without the pendant, Charlotte finally saw her colleagues, who had been there all along. "We have plenty of employees here. From now on, you'll be working with them," I told her. I clapped my hands happily as I watched terror spread across her face. "What is happening? What are these things?" Charlotte screamed. The workshop was crowded with ghosts. At that moment, they were all sizing her up. They looked disturbing—headless men, women with missing limbs, and even malformed infants. No one could witness such a sight and remain unshaken.

one shouted. "Yes! Tell the one about the fox and the moon!" "No, tell the one about the girl who turned into a hawk!" She laughed, breathless and glowing, and dropped to her knees in the grass, letting them swarm around her. "Alright, alright," she said, brushing her windblown hair from her face. "But only if you promise not to fall asleep halfway through." "We won't!" they chorused, lying in the grass beside her. So she told them stories. Not of blood or battle, but of quiet bravery. Of kindness hidden in thorns. Of broken things that found new ways to shine.

’ He sniffled. ‘Maybe I can find a way to fix that, too,’ I muttered, scanning the pages of an ancient, dusty book I’d found buried in Moon Chasm’s library. I didn’t find anything. There were old fairy tales, so old they barely seemed recognisable anymore, that spoke of affronted gods casting down their children and making the first wolves. Some were classic tales, like the one about three pups going too near a river and being turned into toads to save them from drowning; others were cautionary tales, warning young wolves away from humans and forbidding any sort of romances between us and them – all in a fun, rhyming sort of way, of course.