Scary Legends Novels & Stories

He was lying face down, and face up, all at once. I live in that house now. I am the village "fixer." And every night, I listen to the scratching beneath the floorboards. I don't fear the ones that crawl. I fear the ones that wait. Because now I know that the most terrifying thing in the world isn't death—it’s a corpse that refuses to close its eyes.

Three days after losing the Ragnar name, I'm doing exactly what I planned. Nothing. Specifically, productive nothing — the kind where you sit cross-legged on a worn meditation mat, breathe slowly, and read ancient texts about cultivation methods that modern society decided were either too dangerous or too inconvenient to preserve. My current book is a crumbling copy of the Scattered Heaven Records, a pre-empire era text I found in a secondhand stall between a broken abacus and someone's old boot. Cost me two copper coins. The vendor seemed personally offended that I wanted it.

"Look, you're stressed. You're seeing monsters in the shadows because the truth that nature is just cruel is too boring for you. Get your head out of those books and imaginations, Aina. It's rotting your brain." He turned and headed up the stairs without another word. I looked down at the floor. A heavy, leather bound book lay sprawled near the leg of the table. I picked it up, tracing the embossed cover- an ancient, silver eyed wolf perched on a mountain, looking down at a world it intended to swallow whole. But what if it's not just my imagination? I thought, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. What if the legends weren't just stories to keep kids out of the dark? What if

Surprisingly, my mood started to lift. "Ever heard that legend?" Sebastian asked as he walked ahead. "What legend?" "They say twilight's that time when weird stuff shows up. Some folks call it 'the witching hour.' That's when dark creatures appear. They can shape-shift into people or even take over someone if they're careless. They'll call your name-and if you answer... boom, they snatch your soul." His voice was smooth, like velvet dipped in espresso-deep and rich. Carried by the breeze, his words painted a low-key eerie yet oddly enchanting scene.

Nothing was tidy. Ashford's voice drew me back. "And while we examine these events, consider the stories whispered alongside history—legends that grew in the shadow of war. Accounts of spectral soldiers, creatures that struck fear in the night, even rumours of vampires and lycanthropes in the borderlands. Some claim myth arose to explain horrors that cannot be rationalised; others insist the world is wider, stranger, than history alone can tell." My fingers tightened around the pen. Centuries of lived experience, of watching humans grasp at shadows while the truth prowled beneath, stirred in my chest.

Just until I found a boyfriend that my dad liked. My manager, Hilda was supposed to pick me up by nine, this morning, so I had like five hours left. I got up from my bed, wondering how I was going to pass the time as I sluggishly trudged to my bathroom. I suddenly felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise and I felt my stomach churn anxiously. I began to look around my room as paranoia set in. I didn't understand why I was feeling this way. I felt like someone was here with me and by that someone, I meant the vampire.

It was night and she was a little but scared of the shakes that the shadows were forming right above her. " Yes, dear. Your mother will come to see you here. " The lady had replied to her. " I am scared. There are too many monsters out here. " The lady guggled. " There are no monsters out here, Sophia, okay? What you can see is actually because of the way you feel right now. You are so scared . And that is the reason you are seeing the things that you are not supposed to see. The shadows are only forming shakes because you are scared. "

And to seal the moment nothing better than a deep and delicious kiss full of feelings. A silhouette insinuated itself through the rocks in strange positions - like a snake, only standing upright - and then bones started to crack and breathing was suffocated by screams that scared even the birds. Lucian was 'fixing' his broken and/or chipped bones from the thuds on the rocks of the waterfall. He couldn't get it out of his head - his brother and the deaths that occurred there - and the worst thing was that he didn't know who to turn to, after all each one he thought of was less unlikely than the other. For the first time in a long time Lucian looked up to the sky and prayed to God for a light,

She would usually go through with every dare, and had a pretty hot streak going. "Becky the daredevil!" Steve chanted excitedly. That was her name, and she was proud of it. Steve looked at Becca and Demitri, smirking. He then whispered something into Kendra's ear. Kendra laughed and Becca started regretting her choice.

Ever since she'd seen the news about the release of Wolf in her New Reviews magazine, she'd had a feeling in her gut this was where she needed to look. Jamie had credited a lot of her information to a book titled Legends of the Werewolf. Lia had read and reread the notes her great-grandmother had handed to her in those last sad moments. Notes that told about generations past that came here from Romania and grew the pack. This had to be the book. Legends of the Werewolf. Surely there couldn't be two books with the exact same title.