Scariest Stories Novels & Stories

I asked. “The job?” “The late hours. The same conversations. Watching people try to outrun whatever they don’t want to go home to.” Soren considered the glowing end of his cigarette. “Sometimes. Then I remember the day shifts — the noise, the performative friendliness, the people who treat you like furniture until they want something. Nights are quieter. People are more honest when they’re tired.” “Including you?” He glanced sideways at me. The look lasted longer than a casual glance. “I’m standing in an alley sharing a cigarette with a customer who keeps staying after close. Draw your own conclusions.”

She was drinking, dressed to kill and. "Where is everyone else?" he asked. "They're coming tomorrow like always." "What? I thought you said...." "I lied." She said with a shrug. "I wanted to talk to you about your story in person, Sam." "W...why?" Sam asked, beginning to get nervous. "What's so special about that story?" She looked at him and her eyes narrowed. After an uncomfortable silence, she smiled again, "You don't know do you?" "Uh...no not really, it was just a Vampire story. I did try to humanize him, but still I don't think...."

I stared at the title. Grim Boundaries, Containment Rituals and Demonic Anchors. Alright. That was on the nose. I tugged it free. It thudded onto the table like it weighed more than it should. The pages were vellum-thin, covered in curling script and ink illustrations that danced uncomfortably close to realism. Demons, mostly. Circles. Knots. Symbols. Some looked familiar from childhood fairy tales, horror movies, that phase in college when I thought being into witchcraft was a personality.

I couldn’t go back to sleep, I was scared of my own mind, having an overactive imagination turned to be a curse in lonely nights, every sound, every murmur my brain translated and turned into a monster hiding in the darkness. “A story, but you are the writer between the two of us,” she says in a reply with a chuckle, she’s right usually I’m the one who makes up the stories, I’m the author, and I’m really proud about it. “I know, but tonight, I need you to do it,” I say in a sad voice, it was more of a whisper, I can’t tell her a story, not with how scared I’m feeling right now, my story would be one about ghosts, fear, demons that lurk outside your home and not the one under the bed ready to

Scar cries so hard that her voice becomes hoarse, only to freeze in shock when she watched a food land brutally on Sebastian’s hand holding the bat. “Stop It!” Scar bursts into a frantic shout, “I’ll kill you! I’ll fucking kill you!” The driver laughs at her: “Kill us? Is death the worst threat you can throw, little girl? Is that what you fear the most? There are much more you should be afraid of.” Scar shakes her head, sliding down against the door as desperation grabs her. Her whole world filled with the sound of punches, kicks, and the suppressed groan of the man who is keeping up a safe little fortress for her.

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.

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.

I don't even have his number! "Hello? Who's there?" I whispered. It was like a horror movie. The girl in the forest screaming and running for her dear life. Maybe it is Jordan. He is a douchebag but can he pull such a stunt just to scare me? One thing I learned from the horror movies I watch is never to scream and run so I backed away and tried to be in the shade because the moon was up and bright. I don't want to be spotted or watched by who may or may not be my predator.

The second brow came up. "Okay. Fine. I still find it kind of weird. I don't get how we are together but that doesn't mean I'm going to be scared or uncomfortable to see you in your lycan form," I shrugged, knowing fully well that I just spilled a white lie. The stories I had heard of Lycans as a child always frightened me more than I liked to admit. I heard they were eight foot tall humanoid monsters that could tear you apart with a single snap of their teeth. My mother always used to tell my brother and I those stories when we acted naughty to keep us in line.

You could say that there are no ghosts in the world, and I could agree with you, but some people said that there are no werewolves in the world and we know for sure that they are, so… never say never. “I hate this place,” Sam said and looked around. “So many stories , horror stories that I get goosebumps just thinkin' about it.” “ I chose this place exactly for that. Because we all hate this place and it is the last place where Manganiello would think that we will come.”