Romans & histoires Scariest Stories On The Internet

It certainly can't be true! Even when I denied it, tears ran down my cheeks. Who exactly was I deceiving? The excuses have been laid out for me. And it's just painful to know that I have made the mistake I told myself I wouldn't make. Despite all the things I found out, I shoved them out of my mind. Indeed, it is said that the internet is a scary place. There's no way I'll believe the shit stated on the internet.

And the loudest warning of them all was; "Do not trust any friendly stranger with pretty eyes." It had been these way for decades, centuries even. Every single child in the town grew up hearing these stories. Unlike other cities where their bedtime stories centers on royal fantasies, and fairies, the bedtime stories they listened to was filled with horror. It was the stories of wolves with glowing eyes, and the shadowy figures that lured you into the trees, only for your screams to echo back hollow, and unanswered. Though the stories had believable theories, not everyone readily believed them. Some called them folklores wrapped in superstition. Some believed they were old stories, made up to

while my cheeks burned and I laughed like it was a joke. My sister is holding up one of my printed stories between two fingers like it might bite, rolling her eyes. “Horror? Really? You’re so dramatic.” My mother’s tired voice on the phone. “Just promise me you’ll have something stable, Willa. You can’t live on… spooky little tales.” Then other images, jarring against those. A stranger’s comment under a story I’d nearly not posted at all: *This wrecked me. I saw myself in this. Thank you.*

Laura said as a matter of fact. Selina looked at her in disbelief." Get out of here. You're joking” she said looking for signs of a joke in her friends face. When it sank in Selina let out a shocked scream. Everybody in the small cafe looked at them like they were crazy. Laura went on to narrate the most erotic experience of her life.

I would come home from my boring nine-to-five job, sink into my bed, scroll for a while, sleep, and wake up the next day to repeat the same routine. I unlocked my phone and started scrolling through different apps. I had no one to talk to, so I didn’t even bother checking my messages. Then a notification popped up, I bit my lip when I saw it was a p**n link. My fingers hesitated above the screen, my heart began to beat a little faster. My life might be boring, but I couldn’t deny myself of pleasure. I clicked on it and reached for the drawer beside my bed, pulling out the vibrator I had bought weeks ago but barely used. The video started playing and showed two men and a woman. One was betwee

Not presents. Shaking, I went back to my room and opened my laptop. The NoSleep subreddit was always active late at night, a place for people all over the world to share their terrifying experiences. I started typing. Title: My 5-year-old sister saw "Santa," but her description is terrifying. Help.

His eyes were fixed on a small, subtle black lens nestled between two textbooks, a tiny red LED light blinking steadily beside it. “Sam?” Clarissa’s voice was small. “What is that?” He didn’t answer. He just stared, his earlier triumph and passion replaced by a cold, sick dread. The phone screen was a horror show, a gallery of her own shame. Clarissa’s own face, flushed and tear-streaked, filled one half of the livestream. The other half was a chaotic, moving collage of cock—thick, veiny, glistening with her spit and her sweat—pumping into her from every angle. The chat scrolled beside it, a relentless torrent of vulgar commentary.

Patty groaned with visible frustrations on her face. " Let's just tell some horror stories." My eyes lightened up as I hear horror stories. I love horror stories too. Sheena usually tells me something about horrors. At first, I'll cover my ears and pretend I didn't hear anything from her but sooner it wonders me and catch my interest. I sometimes read one-shot horror stories.

After two days of high temperatures and intense boredom, he remembered the three books. Sam pulled out the one with the Mummy on the cover, because it looked the most innocuous. It was entitled the Ninth Pan Book of Horror Stories. He wasn’t the least bit prepared for what he found inside. The first three stories involved emasculation, murder and burning at the stake. In his fevered state Sam felt he was not only watching the characters’ suffering, he was experiencing it along with them. He flung the book at the wall and then hid it again, wishing he could burn it like Jinnot, the young girl in the third story who was burned alive.

There is just something about the dark that is so scary. I might be a werewolf but those ghost stories do scare the hell out of me. I kept imagining seeing things as we walked through the forest. A tree that looked like a giant person, a short person with a big head and no eyes. ‘Ahhhhh, what in the world is wrong with you? You are supposed to be the strongest, bravest she-wolf but here you are being afraid of ghosts,' my wolf said and I chuckled. I did that to wake her up, she had been too quiet for my liking.