Scary Murders Stories Novels & Stories

She would be near family and away from the judging eyes of Glenville, Iowa. She turned her computer off and went to bed. She dreamt she had moved to a new city that had merged all five cities into one with the townsfolk of Glenville following her everywhere pointing and whispering ‘murderer.' She found herself in that room that she tried so hard not to remember. She was surrounded by blood and three dead faceless bodies with gunshots. She heard herself screaming even though she hadn't actually screamed at the time. The blood kept pouring out of the bodies where the gunshots were and began filling the room. The blood was pouring and pouring out, and she watched in horror as the puddle grew un

she asked suddenly. "Just colleagues. I'm not required to go to work for some time, though. Where do you work?" "A small company." Her reply was horribly vague, but he supposed they had the next few days to truly get to know each other. Living under the same room stretches possibilities far and wide. "I don't think it's safe to be outside working when you're a target of the most notorious murderer in town." The statement seemed to catch her attention. Lucinda turned to face him. "I know right. That murderer is a true demon. Someone made of an evil heart. Don't you agree, Jean Luc?"

The front page spelled it all out pretty clear. Killer Still On Loose Police Stumped “Jesus Christ.” The waitress quietly set my coffee down in front of me and snuck away without a word, while I read the rest of the article. For what it’s worth, they quoted the chief’s statement in full, but the rest of the story was built around long quotes from terrified neighbors. There were also some unnamed sources that alluded to ritual murders and occult activity. They even threw in a bit about the Night Stalker murders that happened out in California this spring for good measure.

Summers said. “”I’m good too, how’s the weather in London?” Whitefield asked. “Cold, but not as cold as New York, where are you at the moment?” Summers asked. “I’m on my way to dinner, with my wife and daughter, is anything the matter?” Whitefield asked. “Well yeah, Mclean was murdered yesterday, his wife told me today when I went to inspect the paintings, and the sick thing is that he was murdered in the same fashion as the other victims, Carl I’m becoming more scared and worried”.

He was trembling and on the verge of getting panic attack. Stopping the black Porsche just an inch away from him the driver gets out of the vehicle as if in a trance. "Come back to Tehran." He snarled on the face of Victor, his face purely white with an ugly black scar right on the middle of his forehead. He went to the switch board fixed to one of the pillars in the parking lot and put his finger into the socket. His body shook with passing electricity surprising Victor and he died on the spot.

"We need to find out who is really responsible for the killings. I have a feeling that Marcelyn is just a scapegoat." Chris nodded. "Where do we start?" Darell thought for a moment. "We need to talk to some witnesses. Maybe they saw something that could help us." They spent the rest of the day interviewing people who lived in the area where the killings had occurred. Most of them were too scared to talk, but they did manage to find a few who were willing to share their experiences. One woman, a human named Sarah, told them that she had seen a large wolf-like creature near the scene of one of the killings. She described it as being almost the size of a horse, with eyes that glowed in the dark

His voice quivered as he described the brutal scene that unfolded before his eyes, the man transforming into a monstrous being, his humanity slipping away as easily as a snake shedding its skin. The revelation sent a shiver down my spine, a feeling of dread settling in my gut. I shared a glance with Aiden, his expression mirroring my own. This was no ordinary murder. This was something far more sinister, a creature of the night leaving a trail of death in its wake. The old man's tale ended with the stranger disappearing into thin air as if he had never existed. A chill ran down my spine at the thought. It was as if we were chasing a ghost, a phantom that could vanish without leaving a trace.

Margaret began creating a whole story on them, her theories and conspiracies too. And then, the case with Kimberly Silversmith happened. Followed by the gruesome trail of dead bodies, some of them mutants, all with brutal, inhumane, unusual bites and injuries that didn't seem like the werewolf mutants’ she was used to. Under the radar, she secretly followed the trail of dead bodies until it led her to the familiar Mickey's Pub where she met Leviathan Morganton. **********

She stepped forward and said angrily, "What are you doing? Why are you breaking into our house?" "What are we doing? You must be Maison, then. Cooperate with us, and we'll take no action. Don't cooperate with us, and we'll do whatever we want. "Let me introduce myself; my name is Scar Cuddy. Yes, Scar. Like scars from a knife wound. I've killed around ten people. I hope you won't be my next victim." Scar looked fierce, and his words sounded terrifying. Most importantly, he terrified Maison. She felt nervous.

I blinked several times in an attempt to focus, sucking in my breath when I was finally able to comprehend what I was seeing. "Carmen, don't. Leave those alone," he commanded, quickly heading in my direction. Even with only the light coming from the kitchen to illuminate the glossy photos, it was enough to allow me to realize the horror depicted on every one of them. I jerked one into my hand, trying to keep a rational mind. The photographs were horrible, the scenes of various murders unlike anything I'd seen before, either in real life or on television. I was pulled into a vacuum, my mind unable to process the information completely.