Scariest Folklore Stories Novels & Stories

Willing to break the silence again, Stone cleared his throat before asking, “what the hell is even a soul harvester? That sounds so made up.“ Everest chuckled at his plain disgust, “It’s a terrifying bed time story parents of the Gareth pack would tell their kids in order to put the fear of the unknown into them. It was, still is, our version of the boggie-man*.” Stone nodded, his calculative look returned. “But how do you know it isn’t real? Most bed time stores are myths and most myths are very real.” He waved at the four of them, “most humans think we are myths.”

I could still taste it on my tongue, still feel it on the tip of my fingers, the way the magic filled the air and the atmosphere shifted, the way their voices roared like moving waters, the light from their eyes and the stillness of their soul that felt like they had finally found peace. But even as fascinated as I was, I was terrified, because of the events that followed, the prophecy. The day of Ailak. It was a folklore that almost every child and adult in the nine realms knew. It was a scary story to keep the kids from wandering at night, from walking into the deep forests that led into lands beyond the realms. Realms said to belong to regular humans, untouched and unexplored.

Marcus cast his eyes down as his shame covered him like a new winter’s coat. “ For now,Noah, please just trust me.” For a while after Noah left his room, Marcus stared up at the ceiling, feeling like the lowest form of life for lying to his best friend. How could he possibly explain to him that his dad and new girlfriend were being haunted by an ancient spirit, the same one who haunted his gran and her sister years before? “ Hello Marcus.” The voice which suddenly interrupted his thoughts, was melodious and familiar. Marcus looked to his side and by the light of the moon beaming through the window, he saw her.

“Do you think it’s haunted?” My breath sticks in my chest at her words. Before I can say anything, Jack laughs. “Don’t be stupid. Of course it isn’t haunted.” “Some people think it is,” I counter. “There have always been stories about this place, about the swamp.” The woman pauses as an uneasy shadow flickers across her delicate features. “What kind of stories?” she presses. Jack once again cuts me off. “Who gives a shit?” he chuckles. “Ghosts, witches, werewolves–that’s all kid stuff. The only thing we should be afraid of is the IRS.”

The fire grows in the darkness of the night, creating dancing shadows among the trees. . I could remember a time when the shadows use to scare me a lot after listening to Grandpa's horror stories. I would cling to my grandpa's leg because he would always protect me from scary things in absence of my father. Until one day, he told me that the shadows were the spirits of the wolves who had already passed, coming to greet the newly released souls and lead them to the Moon Goddess, and after that, they had to stay rest of their life in the spirit world.

I was the girl who poured their drinks, cleaned up their crumbs, stood off to the side with my head low. But I listened. Every night, I listened. And my favorite stories—the ones that sent chills down my spine—were about the rogues. Greywin would say, “They don’t walk like us. They stalk. They don’t breathe like us. They sniff, they growl. And when you hear a branch break in the middle of the forest, child, don’t run… they already know where you are.” I remembered the way the girls would huddle closer, giggling but scared. But I wasn’t giggling. I was barely breathing. I always held my tray tighter and leaned closer to hear more.

The ones in Scotland are said to be the link between this world and the fake one, though no one I know has ever seen them in real life. Even the academy textbooks are dubious about their existence. According to ancient folklore, anyone who gazes into the eyes of a fae turns to stone. Although they are unearthly beautiful, fae are also incredibly terrifying. More so than demons. Or haunted cities. At the bottom of the winding pathway, we cross a cobbled road and emerge into a square surrounded by pubs and restaurants. The area is bustling with people, especially for a Friday night. “This is where they used to hang witches back in the day,” Caleb says without looking up, his focus on the devic

They were attacked by a pack of wandering wolves who called themselves the Unborn. Ania's story is still very much talked about to date In the pack, although it was said in hush tones because the tale was considered a bad omen. My mom told me her soul still longs for children’s blood now. Any time I remember her words I laugh because I believe the tales were told to scare children. The reality before now tells me more than I thought existed. My story was already similar to hers but without an end yet. I kept trying to wave off the thought from my head but the more I tried the more it fisted on my wit.

The Bali Girls of course accepted him wholeheartedly afterwards, especially because he and their outside blocker Trish are actually an item now, but, and at Babylee’s own suggestion, he no longer joined their sleepovers. From Mrs. Lapuz, Kate had heard stories about an unspecified hometown as Kate was growing up. During bedtime storytelling, Mrs. Lapuz, who liked going all out, getting into character and changing her voice, told her tales a la Hansel and Gretel, but the grimmer and definitely scarier version because it sounded like it had been lifted from real-life superstition – or what was, in Kate’s own words, “rural legends”, because they retained distinct motifs of countryside animism.

When i told them about the illusion of the door that i saw back in the closed room they all had a perplexed expressions on their face. “Whats so shocking about it?” “I never heard of such magic before,” Alex replied. “Neither the vampires nor werewolves have the power of illusions.” Myles said. “Maybe elves or wizards?” i asked. “Umm… they don't exist Rebecca. That's just folklore.” myles replied. “They dont? Oh!” i said. I once thought werewolves and vampires were folklore too. I wouldnt be surprised if a dragon hatches out of a rock in front me.