Scared Potter Novels & Stories

Hendrix POV After that weirdo's silly bedtime story about end-of-the-world cults or something, I could tell Anna's resolve was breaking down. Those weird creatures and their horrifying objects were like living nightmares come true. They had twisted bodies and soulless eyes that looked right into your mind with cold malice. Their rude and inappropriate presence made me lose even my normal confidence. But giving in to fear was the first thing that led to loss. And there was no way in hell I was going to be added to Scar's crazy plan to kill people from our family tree.

She crumbled down to the floor, dead. Mariam screamed in horror and bent down to scoop Parvina in her arms, the tears flooded down her cheeks as she held Parvina's head close to her chest and she cried in pain. Saadiya fell to the floor on her knees, she looked at Parvina's face in shock and in horror, the tiny hole in the middle of her forehead pooled out blood. Her hands shook when she reached out to hold Parvina's hand. She didn't want to believe what just happened.

Who was he? "I want to tell you everything, everything under the sun and moon about me…I-I really do. I-I '' He brought his hand up to my hand that was cupping the side of his face. He just started caressing my hand with his thumb ever so carefully. "I-I'm terrified to do so, you will no doubt full on believe I'm this some crazy lunatic that escaped the looney bin." He whispered softly, he was trembling— he was genuinely scared…terrified.

I grabbed the largest shard of ceramic from the floor—sharp enough to slice through skin, heavy enough to do real damage—and lunged at her, jamming it against her throat. “Don’t,” I breathed, pressing the edge into her skin until I saw a bead of blood well up. “Don’t fucking move.” She froze. Blood dripped down her face. Her eyes were huge now—wide and white-rimmed—all that contempt replaced with pure, animal fear. I nearly scoffed, where did all her courage go? “Girls like me,” I pressed the shard harder against her skin. Not enough to kill. Just enough to make her understand. “We’re not all the same. Some of us—” I sneered at her terrified face, “—are fucking dangerous.”

Emily could recall that the current theme for the art gallery ‘Sheer terror’ where each artist had to create something based on what they feared, but since she knew so little about artwork and sculptures, she had no idea what the exhibits meant. “Well, I would also be scared of a dick that big.” She laughed as she remembered the sculpture she first saw, and as she continued working, she saw another thing that almost made her heart jump out through her throat. True to the gallery’s theme, sheer terror coursed through Emily’s being as she stared at the intricate work of art. It wasn’t really a sculpture, it looked too real. The exhibit had chains, ropes and lengths of twine hanging down where

Clara frowned. "I’m scared, Wren. I’m so, so scared. Each time you leave him and me at home, he tends to show one creepy character or another. I don’t want to take chances. What if he forces me when you aren’t around? I’m scared; having him around is almost like keeping me in the lion's den and then claiming it won’t devour me at the slightest opportunity it gets. Please, Wren, do something about him!"

Scott POV. I'm taking her to work with me, I loved my work, I really enjoy my work, I love the people I work with, but now I'm taking my soul along with me, and I'm worried, I'm scared, I don't know why I'm terrified, what if she hates the people I work with, or what if the people I work with where the one who hate her!

Scott POV If someone had told me the most dangerous thing in this village wasn’t Revenants or ancient artifacts, but dinner—I might have laughed. Seraphine burned the porridge. Not metaphorically. Literally. The pot sat in the hearth, blackened on one side, smoke curling lazily upward as she poked at it with a wooden spoon like it had personally offended her. “It’s fine,” she insisted. Cassian stared at the ruined pot. “It’s charcoal.”

Lauren stirred the contents of the pot on fire, hoping her bad mood would not affect her cooking else she’ll be in deep trouble. She had always been the one preparing meals ever since she was fifteen and right now, she was preparing lunch. Yes, she did not go to work that day; not after losing her favourite employer that payed her more than any other employer. Her phone had been buzzing nonstop all day with calls from her different employers but she had all turned them down with some flimsy excuse of being sick. In truth, she was scared of stepping a foot outside. Mrs. Patricks had clearly warned her not to let her set eyes on her and being a woman of her words, she knew she might end up beh

Before she could process what she heard, the man was fast to push her back in. The impact caused her to hit on the ground where the pots are lining up by the fence. Her eyes widened in fear. The man walked in and shut the gate. When he turned to face her, a familiar wave of terror began to roll into her gut. She tightly gripped the flowering pot beside her as if her security relied upon it.