Novel & Cerita Scary Bedtime Stories Adults

I fell asleep towards the end. "You said you weren't scared?" Camila argues. "You said it was a boring movie. You slept." I chuckle. "Well, I lied. I only put on a brave face." "That must have been a scary movie. You must've been scared, Lippy," Hearing says my nickname makes my body feel sick. Leah peeks her way through my conversation with Camila. "But you must know scary movies are just make-believe stories. There is no such thing as Freddy Kruger or Jason. It's okay to be scared; as adults, we see those movies as not real. Even children can tell the difference between fiction and non-fiction."

I joke. “We’ve been roommates for almost five years, asshole. I can’t help but know what you look like,” he deadpans. “Come on. Do it.” “No fucking way,” I say. “Scared you can’t hack it?” Axl asks. “No. I just don’t want to do it.” “Do you have any idea how much I can make in a night?” “Can’t be that much,” I quip. He says the amount, and my jaw drops. “Seriously?”

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

“Seriously Ashley, I might get upset if you go through my messages.” “Dumb boy messages, just let go of me, I don't care anymore.” “Promise?” “Yeah.” She scoffed and he did, she didn't try taking the phone again and he lay beside her. “You should be sleeping, it's late already.” “I know and am exhausted, but I can't seem to fall asleep. Can you tell me a bedtime story?” “Bedtime stories are for kids, not twenty-one-year-olds.” “Just tell me one.” “Okay, I don't really know much so how about I tell you the story of a demon who has lived for over a thousand years.”

I cleared. "I am wondering." I chuckled nervously. "I wondered the same when my father told me about it, I was nine, I couldn't sleep then," "Haha, you were scared, I never get to hear one you know. Some of these horror books were forbidden by my parents. Instead, they would read to me moonlight stories, fairy princesses and all." "I doubt you look anything like a princess, you lack etiquette." "That's a rude way to speak to a lady." "My apologies."

‘Can I see my bedroom? She asked innocently and he nodded the room was adjoining his and she would not be sleeping in it for very long, in a couple of weeks she would turn seventeen and he was determined to seduce her. He showed her the pretty lilac and pale blue room pointing out the ensuite and his adjoining door, ‘Just in case you have nightmares I will be there to protect you’ He said pulling her into his arms ‘Its beautiful’

touch. At that time, the only remaining sensible part of me warned - Lucas didn't come across as someone who would follow a doctor's advice. This asshole was like a wild savage beast. He would do anything out of impulse, including taking my virginity or even worse, taking my life. I had to do something to distract him. Nothing distracts a horny male murderer more effectively than bedtime stories with supernatural creatures in them. The new wife in Arabian Nights did it. She told that asshole King a story every night lest he killed her the next morning.

… [all men do is lie] … I nod, deciding to trust him. We sit in the silence for about a minute. I simply can’t process any of this. The world, as I know it, will never be the same after his explanation. The scariest part is that it is all true. As a child, I have been told stories about the supernatural. We would gather around a camp fire, and a teacher would tell us scary stories with monsters as main villains. Now, here I am, fast-forward to a couple of years later, I’m sitting alone with the man who created all my nightmares.

she said. Mommy read me my favorite story, “The Cinderella Luna,” and she kissed me goodnight. I felt so lucky to have her as my mommy! I couldn’t stop thinking about the scary man, I needed to know why he watched me all the time. Did he want to drink my blood? Did he want to make me like him? No! No, my parents would never let that happen. He was often in the big office across the hall, but my parents would keep the doors closed so I wouldn’t have to see him. For some reason I felt like I needed to talk to him, I needed to see if he was really as scary as my mind was telling me.

Mirabelle and I both unfollowed every member of Midnight Saints, we had to pull an all nighter but it was worth it, our I*******m has nobody connected to her brother on it. A few minutes later, Mirabelle nudges my leg. “Hey, have you heard the tale of the devil” she asks, slanting her phone to the side when I gaze at her with my face creased. “You are the devil in this tale,” she laughs. “Most parents use you to scare kids into doing as they are told, they tell them a tale log of the giant Alpha that swallows you alive and eats your flesh to bone and bone to flesh.” she says, her voice deepening for dramatic effect.