Scared Potter Novels & Stories

All of a sudden some bikers came forward from behind them and drove past me as they were now surrounding me with their bikes, roaring the engine to scare me. "I didn't know that cats are this clever to play with those kinds of toys."The Scar face said all of a sudden, getting into the conversation. Oh, I forget he speaks. He looks good when he keeps his mouth shut because whenever he speaks up it doesn't help at all. In fact his voice and presence sucks up your confidence leaving you stammering. "That shouldn't bother you." I said looking direct in his eyes but when he raised his bruised eyebrow at me,I started to blink several times and quickly diverted my gaze away from him.

Instead, he wandered over to the edge of my herb garden, crouching like he had any business near my basil. “What’s this one?” he asked, pointing at a small pot. I rolled my eyes. “If you touch that, your hands will burn.” He paused. “Are you joking?” “No.” He leaned back. “You really are trying to scare me off, huh?” “Not trying,” I said. “Just being honest.” He stood up and looked at me, all the teasing drained from his face. “I’m not scared of you, Sienna.” “Maybe you should be.”

“Dangerous hobby.” “Maybe,” I admitted. The pancakes started burning. He turned quickly and saved them at the last second. I watched him plate them up. Normal moment.Domestic.Safe. And yet something underneath it all felt fragile. Like the calm before the sky turned black. “You know what scares me,” I said softly. He glanced over his shoulder. “What?” “That this is real,” I admitted, my heart pounding. He turned back around slowly. “And real things,” I added, “can be taken away.”

The way it breaks like glass under pressure. I freeze mid-stir and I drop the spatula. Then pick it up again because my fingers won’t stop trembling. My fingers lock around the spatula so tight the plastic starts to bend. But I keep going. Because Dante said to stir. Stir the soup. Stay inside. Don’t come out. No matter what I hear. Another scream rips through the air. High-pitched. Throaty. The kind that only comes from someone who knows he’s about to die and still has hope he might not.

Tess I find many things in this world scary: walking to the bathroom late at night when you don’t have a nightlight on, fake friends, the members of the Safir pack, and last, and probably my biggest fear, is the thought of spending eternity alone. Sue me for thinking that’s a terrible fate, but that is how I feel without lying to myself.

The thought of potential poison crossed my mind. “Huh?” I raised my eyebrows in disbelief. Trusting him to feed me felt akin to trusting in poison. “No need to worry. I’ll eat myself and have the soup later,” I protested, vigorously shaking my head in fear, my entire body trembling with apprehension. Dante leaned in close, his breath brushing against my ear, sending shivers down my spine. His deep voice resonated, causing goosebumps to erupt across my skin. “I won’t grant you the easy way out with poison. Your end will be far more chilling, the kind that leaves people haunted. when they hear of it, their ears will ting in fear,” he murmured, and a wave of fear washed over me, tears welling u

I gripped the delicate handle of my Earl Grey cup, the warmth a grounding contrast to the icy anger coiling in my stomach. He sat across the vast expanse of polished obsidian, an immovable statue carved from arrogance and worry. His dark eyes held that familiar, infuriating mix of command and… something else. Something that looked suspiciously like fear, which only made me angrier. “Fear of what? Me breaking?” Then, it hit.

I was scared of them, terrified even. One day, a male warrior walked up to me alone when I was walking and offered to give me a tour. Instantly, I shut down and flinched away from his outstretched hand. When the warrior realized that I was scared, he didn't get mad. Inst, he lifted his hands and smiled as he turned and called for a female to come over and walk with us. And with the female beside me, I slowly stepped up to my fears as I walked towards the pack house.

I say to her and she stops kneeding the dough and places her hands on her hips in a motherly fashion. “There is no maybe, Bria. That is what they said. Someone out there caused that and we don’t know who.” “Are you scared?” I ask her, almost unable to believe anyone in this family knew of fear. “If you are not then you are stupid. You can deal with evil when you see it, but when you cant-” She trailed off with a shudder, turning herself back into her dough and carrying away her frightened feelings.

"Attention doesn't scare me. Disrespect does." He studied her for a moment, then asked softly, "Are you overwhelmed?" Petra lifted her spoon, stirring her drink slowly in the cup. The liquid swirled, reflecting light and shadow across its surface. She shook her head gently. "No," she said honestly. "I'm not afraid of being seen." Her movements slowed as she spoke. Her voice softened further. "I'm afraid of what comes after," she continued. "When everything, all this noise, goes quiet. When the past comes fighting back, perhaps."