Scary Horror Stories Novels & Stories

she said and held the genius' hands "what could be making you cry?" "I don't know how to say it but I'm scared of living" Juana began "What do you mean? Are you feeling suicidal?" "Not exactly but I am tired of myself. I don't know if you'll see me as a strange person just as others do, but the thing is I see things. Things I shouldn't see, and things too much for me to comprehend or bear, I can't even sleep at nights and I can't even tell anyone at home because they'd be worried" Juana stopped talking.

Looked like Loren had gotten carried away, Ria thought. "You know, of all the ghosts, the most dangerous are the ones that carry grudges and regrets…" Loren rambled on again. Ria started to think that Loren liked horror topics like this. "What do you mean?" Ria responded while reading through some of the articles she found earlier. “I have a story that my mother firsthand experienced. She once rented an old house that was haunted by a spirit full of regret and anger that almost brought her to an terrible accident…” Loren had already started preparing her story when Ria noticed that the clock already indicated that their next class was about to start.

Or if the weather was on the colder side, we’d sit deep within the woods hurtled around a warm campfire, marshmallows burning and scary stories flowing allowed tears to well in my eyes. Back then some story of a monster hiding in a cabin ready to eat people was the most frightening thing I had heard, but I was unaware of the real nightmare I would be faced with, I didn’t have a monster in a cabin hunting me, but a real life monster who was sat around that once happy campfire.

Story Note: “Room for One More” is a standalone short from my erotic collectiona mix of intense, sensual, and sometimes forbidden stories that explore the raw edges of desire. Each story introduces new characters, new fantasies, and unapologetically explicit encounters. This particular tale features a taboo dynamic between step-siblings, told with heat, dominance, and no holding back. Reader discretion is advised. *************************************************

After Jacob's reminder, I saw the message Edgar had sent. 303: "Everyone in this building is gonna die tonight!" 603: "What the hell is happening downstairs?" 304: "Wait, wasn't the guy in 303 already… dead?" 401: "Seriously, who's using his phone to pull a prank? This isn't funny." Apartment 303 was Edgar's unit, and the message was coming from his WhatsApp account. The other residents were buzzing about it, but no one seemed to take that line seriously. The building was six stories tall, with four units per floor, and it wasn't fully occupied. I shot Jacob a text. "Who took Edgar's phone after he died?"

It was slow, deliberate, and chillingly intimate. I pulled my face in disgust, instantly rolling my eyes. My fear was quickly replaced by a sudden annoyance. If their goal was to scare me, they should've come up with something a lot more creative. "If you’re trying to scare me, you’re going to have to work a lot harder than that. I’ve had men try to kill me in my sleep. I've been sold like livestock. I've had a bounty on my head. To me, you’re just a heavy breather with too much free time."

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:

I asked her curiously as I sat comfortably on her couch and the three of them sat on the big one adjacent to mine. "Well, I believe that there's nothing to be scared of. The ghosts, vampires, witches, and werewolves are just in the books. Right? Fiction. Not real." My oblivious girlfriend explained, and that made the three of us, supermarket beings, look at each other. If you just knew, Pryce. None of us here is purely human. "Uh, yeah, yeah. They're just in the books. Horror books. They are a product of one's creative minds… and to scare people." Sander agreed with her best friend. Now, I really don't know how we will tell Pryce about the whole truth.

He whispered coldly in my ears. My eyes widened up as he said. My brow arched, I couldn't believed my ear. Oh my God! What is he trying to do with me? The fear of losing myself to a monster like him rushed a spine into my whole body system. Too young for this phase I was passing through. No! He wouldn't get down on me so easily.