Novel & Cerita Scary Bedtime Stories

Her thoughts transported her to a distant memory of her mother, telling her tales of the Lycan King: "Come on, Tasha, it's time for bed!" A little girl, no older than eight, rushed into the room in her nightgown and jumped onto the oversized bed. "Mum, tell me a bedtime story," she pleaded as her mother tucked the sheets around her. Her mother smiled and joined her on the bed. "In a faraway land, there lived a princess," she began, but the little girl shook her head. "No, Mum, tell me the story of the great and mighty Lycan King," she said with anticipation in her eyes.

I tilted the cover just enough to give them a glimpse. “A witch!” “There’s a kitty!” “Is it about ghosts?” The children scrambled off the adults’ laps and crowded closer. “Halloween is almost here. So today, I’m going to read you a story called *The Wonders of Halloween*.” The children eagerly began telling me about the Halloween decorations they had made at school. Before I knew it, even more of them had gathered around me. “Rin was a girl who was afraid of ghosts and the dark. That was why she could not understand why everyone else wanted to turn into ghosts—”

“What else have you heard?” Too much. Too much poison dressed up as bedtime stories. Garrett Monroe—my father, the only family I had left—used to slur those horror tales into my ears whenever he was drunk. Stories about sharp-toothed beasts who dragged children from their beds and devoured them whole. Creatures who wore human skin by day but hunted by moonlight. At the time, I thought he was warning me. Trying to protect me in his own twisted, broken way. But now? Now I don’t know.

It was late autumn when they arrived — the trees skeletal, the air thick with a kind of oppressive stillness that seemed to hum beneath the surface of the world. Emily Carter, a graduate student in folklore and urban legends, had heard the whispers about WildWood all her life. She had grown up just a few towns over and had spent years gathering the old stories: tales of the “vanishing patients,” the “howling trees,” and the “night doctors” said to stalk the forest paths. Determined to separate fact from myth, Emily organized an expedition for her thesis, enlisting a few brave companions:

In 1983 a Mrs Carson of New York was laid out in our coffin, presumed dead of hear disease. As mourners watched, she suddenly sat up, alive as you or I. Unfortunately her daughter dropped dead of fright on the spot. I don't own any of this stories. I found them in some creepy books. I'm thinking of writing my own scary stories, but not anytime soon. You can send me your short stories for a feature if you feel like it. Thanks for reading. Enjoy!I don't own any of this stories. I found them in some creepy books. I'm thinking of writing my own scary stories, but not anytime soon.

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

"Too scary daddy!! Tim declared and hid himself under the quilt. Leon followed suit. They covered themselves and didn't even let their head out. Allen stood up and went away. The story was indeed scary and that was all he could think of and quickly made up to tell them. Aren't they the ones who wanted a bedtime story before they could sleep. He sat on the sofa in the sitting room. And less than twenty minutes later, Ms Dorothy walked out of the room. "Are they asleep?" Allen asked and Ms Dorothy nodded. "Since I don't know which fairy story their mother told them halfway, I sang them a poem and they drifted off to sleep. But eldest master, that story you were telling them was indeed scary. H

This was the first time he’d shared a bed with both his Mummy and Daddy, and he couldn’t contain his happiness. "Daddy," he said. "Yes, son?" "Can you tell me a bedtime story? Mummy always does it, but now that you’re staying, you should tell me one." Liam held my hand and Scott’s hand too, as if he wanted the three of us to stay connected forever. "I’m not very good at bedtime stories, but I’ll give it a try," Scott replied. Scott began telling Liam a bedtime story until he fell asleep. I tucked him in with the duvet and turned to the other side of the bed, trying to sleep. But I couldn’t, no matter how hard I tried.

Grandma told. "I am scared grandma." She mumbled. She rubbed her eyes as she was feeling sleepy. "You should now sleep sweetheart. I will continue the story tomorrow." Grandma said and was about to get up when Thea hold her hand in her little ones and stopped her. "No Grandma, please continue the story. I am not sleepy." She said and gave her puppy eyes. "You are getting scared Thea. You will wet your bed if I continue the story." Grandma said. "I don't wet my b-bed grandma." Thea said with red cheeks. "And I am a big girl now and big girls don't get scared of anything, not even the lycans." Thea said and giggled at her own words.

Mom and Dad will come to me and let me sleep in their room. Yuan said that I should not be afraid of Nightmare because it visits the ones who are scared of it. He said that if I became brave to sleep alone, Nightmare won’t visit me. When I was eight, he gave me his favorite stuffed toy. He said it protects him from Nightmare and if I sleep with the teddy bear, Nightmare will not come to me. I don’t know what happened because his teddy bear suddenly lost its magic to protect me from Nightmare.