Scariest Picture Ever Novels & Stories

I can send you the images but warning, viewers' discretion advised, you could be traumatized' I took a deep breath and shut my eyes for a moment before sending 'Send them' What else was worse than an eleven-year-old walking into the kitchen to find the body of her father in a pool of blood? I've been traumatized enough in this life. I'll face my problems head-on. Almost immediately a couple of blurry pictures started appearing on the chat and they became completely visible after automatically downloading. The sight was indeed disgusting. Scattered bodies of naked headless men and each was carrying individual head in his hands with a cross sign on the head. Seeing blood triggered my PTSD for

I can feel her eyes on me, watching me with a sick pleasure as she speaks. "No... no..." Shaking my head violently, I staggered a step back as my eyes scanned the painting, taking in the dark and foreboding looking scene before me. I had never seen her paint anything like it before─ it was almost as if she was trying to capture my soul in the paint. The figure seemed to be reaching out for anyone who would look at it, exposing their deepest fears and secrets. It was a painting that had the power to make even the bravest person fear for their safety. That can't be my future. I whispered to myself.

Baila I stumbled back, struggling to breathe as my breath escaped my mouth in strangled hiccups. The creature before me was once human, I was sure of it. She was a woman with hair badly ripped out, and I could see the soft pink flesh of her scalp. Her teeth were a long line of small sharp triangles like a fish's teeth. She wore a tattered black dress, and black veins littered her pale sickly skin, which had a sticky transparent liquid on it. But what scared me the most was her eyes. They were endless pools of darkness like a bear's.

the beast responsible for the deaths of my family and friends. Malicious, fiery-red balls, a large maw aligned with ferocious dentitions dyed deeply with dripping blood, a stench and menacing scowl sitting engraved into its grotesque face that folds in the more its sight zeroes down upon me. My jaw slackens, my ability to produce any sounds robbing me to be beneath such an evil creature. I don’t register anything else, nothing more resplendent than this pervasive fear as tears pour down my face. Abruptly, with a speed faster than light, it lunges and descends. And I scream.

Making him look like the most frightening demon that she had ever seen. She froze with shock. Horror. Revulsion. She couldn't even move. She could only stare. Her horrified reflection glinting into those black and endless pits of his. It didn't help. The fact that he was still wearing that weird dia de los muertos face paint. If anything, it even made him look all the more horrifying. More difficult to look at.

I cry out as I open my eyes, and I find myself in my own tent, sweat covering my body. That was the scariest nightmare I have ever had. I sit up and look over and find Natalie still sound asleep. I have to get out of here and go hunting before I freak myself out even more.

Inside, wrapped in layers of thick, dark tissue paper, was a heavy, matte-black wooden picture frame. I pulled the frame out of the box, turning it over to look at the glass side. The moment my eyes registered the image beneath the glass, the air was violently sucked from my lungs, and my knees gave out completely. I collapsed onto the edge of the mattress, the frame clutching to my chest as a cold, paralyzing wave of terror washed over my entire body. It was a high-resolution, crystal-clear photograph.

Bellatrix Sinclair Panic clawed at my throat, my lungs burning from deprivation. The expansive room coloured pitch-black and slowly closing in. Lifting my head and catching a glimpse of a portrait on the roof that appeared to be of 18th century that depicted bloodshed between wolves and humans. The wide mouth of a black wolf, his fangs bloody as he tore a chunk of flesh from a human. This couldn’t be considered art; it was a slaughter, and it was terrifying.

I want to sculpt her, just like this. I close my eyes and immortalize the image, her face tipped to the sky, her eyes shut tight in terror and thrill as the skies roar down at her, her tears swirling with the rain as her pale skin takes a deathly hue, her mouth set to scream out her pain as she fights whatever demons hold her captive, her sensual neck, ripe and ready for a rough bite. My beast goes feral at the image wanting— needing to tear off her clothes and take her right there in an open parking lot.

Bianca's POV I stared at the picture, my face bleaching of color and my mind reeled in horror, trying to make sense of it all but there was no denying the gravity of the situation going on. The picture– intimate, raw and exposing– was everywhere, spreading like wildfire.