Scary Nightmares Stories Novels & Stories

[Rachel's POV] I woke up in a cold sweat, my heart pounding in my chest. The vivid images from my dream lingered in my mind, replaying like a haunting movie. A lycan and a wolf locked in a fierce battle, a woman and a little girl running for their lives. The terror of the chase, the slashing claws, and the echoing screams filled my ears. It was a recurring nightmare that had haunted me since childhood.

Maybe the fresher the meat, the more alluring. It haunts my dreams. It started way before I was told that I’d be visiting my grandma. Nightmares of a large wolf with black fur and vivid blue eyes stalking me. The dreams felt so real that I refused to leave my room for weeks. It was rubbed off as trauma, but it's been eight years since mom died and the first nightmare didn’t come to haunt me until I turned eighteen, six years ago.

I scream that they may have tattooed me, but I’m not one of them and I don’t want to go on anymore stupid missions. It works better than I hoped. Carden doesn’t stop by for days on end leaving me with my nightmares. They become stronger with each passing day. I wake up breathless. I wake up crying. I wake up with my fists clenched to the point of having bloody nail marks dug into my palms. I wake up with a scream. And then I don’t wake up at all.

The wedding ended up being a complete disaster and my dad and all the guests found out that we were faking everything after Bianca crashed into the event. Nightmares were the worst thing ever to me. I'd always hated them since I was little. My hatred for nightmares had started ever since I'd watched a lot of scary movies all by myself one night that my parents had left me all alone with the babysitter. The babysitter had had no idea that when she'd gone to take a nap, I'd snuck into her room and taken the TV remote control she had hidden from me, and gotten myself busy with horror movies. From that day, I'd started to have nightmares. Very bad and nasty ones, that always involved someone get

I cry out as I open my eyes, and I find myself in my own tent, sweat covering my body. That was the scariest nightmare I have ever had. I sit up and look over and find Natalie still sound asleep. I have to get out of here and go hunting before I freak myself out even more.

"Tell him whatever you think it is best 'cause I won't be showing up. If 'she is asleep' that comes to your mind, say it. Or 'she don't wanna come' it is fine by me, 'she doesn't want to see you' whichever way. I am not just coming." "Okay then." "Thank you as you do so," I plugged my earpiece, then laid back on bed. "Goodnight." **** (No! Whimpering! Darkness! Fire! Tears!) Noo! Not again! I pressed my back against the wall, folded up a leg, then I dug my finger into my hair. This is beyond me mum, dad! I can't handle this all alone. What is the secret behind this nightmare? *** The shadow was moving closer. It was following me all over again. This couldn't be Brad. That was not Brad. So wh

I darted my eyes away quickly-- "You promised," Al said all of a sudden. "What?" I paused in surprise. "No question asked," Al smirked, holding out his hand to me. I was grateful that he didn't ask into it. Night fell. So the thing about horror stories is that-- The fear kicks in only at dark nights when you are alone, not when you are at the crowded theater or on the bright street. Meaning-- I couldn't fall asleep that night. Turns out it's a bit hard to fall asleep when you don't close your eyes because you feel the need to stare at everything with alert.

Quincy found it hard to reply to Sharon’s question. Her situation sounded kind of creepy. After a brief silence, she said, “I don’t know what’s going on… Although I was kind of worried when I learned that I was pregnant with this child, I was still extremely happy. But last month...I started having nightmares every night.” Sharon frowned after hearing what she said. “Nightmares?” Quincy nodded and said, “Yes, I keep dreaming about my parents passing away in a car crash. They’re always covered in blood, looking terrifying…”

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

Her thoughts drifted into the treacherous realm of her own nightmares, which had morphed into a nightmarish ordeal of their own. These dreams were insidiously becoming more vivid, more nightmarish, as though the universe had conspired to transform her nights into an unending reel of terror. Each night, it was the same haunting scenario that played out with relentless persistence: the pleading eyes of an unknown figure, the thunderous echo of gunshots that tore through her consciousness, and the paralyzing sense of despair that gripped her very soul. These nocturnal horrors had become a prisoner of her mind, relentlessly ransacking her peace.