Scariest Folklore Stories Novels & Stories

He asked politely as he looked from me to Tasha for approval. “ Why not? The more, the merrier.” Tasha replied and Arnold stepped in to walk beside us, making me the middle man. “Alright so it's time for some midnight stories from dear Arnold, anything you have for us Arnold?” Tasha asked Arnold, who smiled. He was obviously pleased with her words. “Hm… I could share my experience killing the strange creatures that live here. Okay, what is your opinion of the scariest and strangest creature?” Arnold asked as he folded his arms.

Before there were doors between worlds, there were stories. They whispered from hearth to hearth and ship to ship— of wolves that ran like midnight wind, of foxes with nine tails and nine more tricks beyond that, of fae who looked like carved moonlight and smiled like knives. Humans loved those stories—as long as they stayed in books and bedtime. The moment a story breathed, the moment a pair of eyes glinted from a tree line or a shadow stepped out of the corner of a room, humans did what humans do best when they’re afraid.

Sophie The moon hangs high in the night sky, casting an ethereal glow over the fairgrounds. The usual joyous atmosphere twists into an eerie tension as Damian's secret unravels before my eyes. I stand frozen for a moment, my fascination momentarily overpowering the fear that should consume me. The tales of werewolves have always been distant echoes, whispered warnings from from my grandmother to keep curious minds like mine at bay. Yet, here I am, on the front lines of a supernatural battle, witnessing the transformation of humans into majestic, fearsome creatures.

“But why did you sound so scared?” My mother looked at the dress she had just folded; her short dark brown hair framed her face and hid her expression from me. Then she placed the dress neatly into suitcase and locked her hazel eyes to my light green ones. “There’s a lore about them in my hometown. It’s said that they are demons that went after beautiful women, especially virgins. They came at night when everyone was sleeping and raped the girls, sometimes more than once.”

I trip over a branch and fall. “We can not be the pack with The Ultima! Everyone will come in search of you, to use you as the weapon you are.” I look up at him with one eye. The ultima? Ultima’s are folklore that my great-grandma used to tell us about. The ghost stories of the wolf that came now and then to help replenish the werewolf community with the gift of recruiting humans to be wolves based on their skill sets. Well, until the last Ultima, that is.

“What do you mean Eirik?” He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming all of my senses. “There are things in this town—things most people don’t believe in. They're hidden in plain sight.” I swallowed hard, stuttering. “Lik–like what?” “Like the legends of this land,” he said quietly, gazing intensely. “Old stories about creatures that roam these woods.” “Creatures?” I scoffed, trying to hide my growing anxiety with humor. “What, like ghosts, ghouls and goblins? Those are just dumb stories, Eirik.” I laughed nervously.

Any act of kindness out here was worth acknowledging. Soon enough, they started to talk. Stories, some funny, others dark. One spoke of a creature that prowled these woods, an ancient spirit that hunted lonely travellers and fed on their voices. Another swore that he once saw a woman in white walking just beyond the trees, her eyes hollow, her fingers covered in blood. The rider shivered and moved closer to me. But I didn’t move. I only listened, watched, and tried to determine whether these stories were meant to entertain us or warn us.

“Oh God!” Out of everything that I’d learned after turning into a vampire, the stories of the Elders and their Death Squad had scared me the most. Because anyone who came in contact with the Death Squad didn’t live to tell the tale, there weren’t many knows facts but from what I’d heard from the whispers, they were the ghosts in the shadows, the boogeyman of the vampire race and anyone who came into contact with them died a painful death.

Sylvie was slightly furious. "What, are you belittling me just because I'm a woman?!" Ifor smirked but ignored her as he walked straight toward Frank. In just two steps, they all heard a noisy rustle of bushes and turned to find a dozen glowing eyes glaring at them. "I-Is that a ghost?" Scar asked, afraid. "Ghost, my ass." Ifor snorted in annoyance. "There's no such thing—it must be some animal. The old man was right—there's something strange on this hill!"

A mouth full of teeth capable of rending a wolf i n two. A wendigo. These stories were to be legends. Tales to frighten puppies. However, this time it was very, very real. And it was looking straight at me.