Scary Nightmares Stories Novels & Stories

She couldn't remember why she had gone to bed so early, but she felt exhausted. As she lay there, she tried to recall her dreams, a dream with no sun and moon, just blackness and silence. A dream where she always heard a noise. A scream in the distance and laughter in her ears – that made her want to run, flee to escape the horrors that lay beyond. A dream where there are demons that chased after her. A dream where she was drinking blood and eating raw meat. The same dream that she is watching again and again. But they were hazy and fragmented. She couldn't make sense of them.

Scarlett I woke up with a start, my sheets twisted around my legs, heart hammering in my chest. The remnants of a nightmare clung to me like a second skin. I had seen horrors, shadows, blood, screaming children, monsters with faces that shouldn’t exist. My palms were slick with sweat, and I could still hear the echo of those cries, faint but relentless. I lay there for a long moment, trying to shake it off, trying to convince myself it had been just a dream. But the horror lingered, gnawing at the edges of my mind.

Besides, sleep could mean sleepwalking, because sleepwalking meant danger. When I could no longer resist it, sleep came, restless and full of nightmares that caused me to bolt up in bed. A scream caught in my throat as I glanced around the room to see shadows dancing, my heart almost stopping in my chest. Sadly, I could not recall what the nightmares were about. All I remembered was they were terrifying and full of blood, teeth…and the moon that started out white, then turned into a gruesome red that reminded me of blood. I swallowed. Frightened of what I could not see within the thick shadows blanketing the floor, I stood. I was unable to stop my shaking as I reached blindly for the light s

[FRIDAY NIGHT - 7:00 PM] I knocked on his apartment door at exactly seven, my overnight bag in hand, my pussy so sensitive from four days of edging that even the friction of walking made me want to scream. Four days of denying myself. Four days of getting right to the edge and stopping. Four days of my fingers, my vibrator, the showerhead—everything except actual release. I was going insane. The door opened. Ryan stood there in dark jeans and a black t-shirt, looking exactly like what he was—a man who could break me. "Inside." I stepped in. He closed the door, locked it, and before I could even set down my bag, his hand was around my throat.

Her granny called her almost everyday just to know what she saw the previous night and Juana would tell her everything. Sometimes, Juana didn't see anything at all, sometimes she saw good things, but most times, she had nightmares. When her granny called to ask about her dream the night after she saw something about avocados, Juana refused to tell her about it because it involved someone dying. The person was dying. Not dead. She didn't want to imagine any of her parents or even her granny dying, when she tried to, the imagination hurt her so much she got bad headaches. Juana felt like telling someone about it, talking to someone about her whole life, but she wanted a neutral person because

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.

NIGHTMARES. A very bad or frightening dream. Anna was starting to lose count of the number of nightmares she’s been having since Josh’s death but whenever she woke up with one, clearing her head with a jog had been working well on her. She lets out a sigh as she turns sideways to stare at the mini alarm clock she had next to her bed. The time read 6:00 am and she hated the fact that she had to be awake at this early hour of the day.

By now, we’ve all had more than a few drinks, and we’re halfway between tipsy and passed out. “Let’s tell scary stories,” Laura, one of my friends, suggests. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Kara asks. “These woods are spooky at night. I have to be able to sleep, you know.” “Maybe we should call one of those hunky forest rangers for you,” I suggest with a laugh. “He’d better bring a friend,” Laura says. “Or twelve,” Diana, another friend of mine, adds. We all laugh, and Laura starts in on the first story about night walkers, ghostly figures who march through the forest.

No one knew about my problems because I never shared much and Gracie, free-spirited as she was had her demons to fight. As my eyes closed slowly, my body shivered in anticipation. Hours pass by and I drifted off. It doesn't take long for me to feel it. I couldn't move and it felt like I was being held down with strong sturdy chains. My eyes snapped wide open, and I couldn't close them even as I saw the horror of my nightmare. It was hideous, rotting away, skin shedding to the floor as it moved but it still looked human. It was crawling towards me. Tears rolled down my cheeks. I was screaming but it felt like whispers in the air. My throat ached. Its cold hands touch my skin and I shuddered i

Some of them stand in packhouses and call you the reason their mate is dead. And some of them, maybe, are not monsters at all. Just stories. Just fear. But I do not know which story is true. And that might be the scariest part. --- Night falls. The group makes camp in a valley between two mountains. The guards give me more bread and a blanket. I curl up in the corner of the wagon and try to sleep. I cannot. The stories circle in my head like angry bees. He killed ten rogues with his bare hands.