Scary Serial Killer Novels & Stories

Zack explained but Harris was quite confused. "Human Flayer? What do you mean?" He asked. "14 years ago, there was a popular serial murder case called the Flayer Murder case. The culprit was called The Flayerman. The case was titled Flayer Murder case because all the victim's corpses were discovered without furs. Flayerman would flay his victims alive after torturing them and rendering them helpless and defenseless and then he'd use the flayed furs to make garments and cashmere which he'd sell to the families of the victim." Zack exclaimed.

Not every serial killer uses a knife," he pointed out. The statistics went against the probability that the pretty blonde was a murderer, but even so... Most serial killers were male, there were a few females. - At The thought flashed through his mind that if he was the victim of Jenna Fallon, he might as well I could die with a smile on my face. *** As Mark spoke, I smiled. Marianne's sexual innuendo skimmed past through his mind as well as my flirtation. What's up with this guy? He wasn't gay or indifferent. that bulge

"Why not? I'm enjoying watching a woman eating meat in front of me. You can call me, Fabian." He licked his lower lip with his sinful tongue, and I gasped and continued to eat the food until I finished. “Can you take me home now?” He shook his head, “No.” The man with tattoos on his arms just walked in, and when I look at him again, my heart starts to beat faster out of fear. It seemed so strange to be in a place where serial killers live. I tried to lower my head because looking at anyone in this place made me feel sick.

Her head ached from having thought too much about it, her idea of him might not have been nice but he had transformed himself into a cold-blooded beast before her and there was no way to change that. The way he acted made it clear that he thought very little about killing somebody, and there was nothing more dangerous and heart-wrenching than being in the same space with someone like that, breathing the same air as them and exchanging glances his eyes on her gave her goosebumps, the horrifying kind, the kind one felt when a great terror was before them. For all she knew the man could be some sort of serial killer, or even a psychotic rich bastard who did nothing but murder people just for th

It was a full investigation kit, papers old and new from the very moment she turned ten, questions she asked and many of them were so unanswered. This was her entire documentation on the death of her father and how Christian Harper was connected to it. She pulled out a marker and then picked up one of the papers that had Christian’s picture on it she pressed the marker on it and slowly wrote the words “ORGAN HARVESTOR A.K.A SERIAL KILLER” she pushed the paper back into the box and then locked it up putting in back into the safe spot she has been hiding it.

she says as she turns the laptop to me. All I catch is shadowed images of a man's form. Nothing that gets his face up close in any of the shots. Sarissa scrolls down countless images of countless horror deadlines as she continues talking. “They say that he is dangerous,” she says, laughing like it was the funniest thing in the world when she comes across posts and articles highlighting his horrors. “They say he is a vile, wicked killer. No-mercy man. Always ready to put a bullet in the head of anyone who dares to cross him or betray him.” She looks at me, eyes crinkling with excitement, derangement and pure anticipation. “Isn't that perfect?”

The voice that talks from the other side isn't a man's, it's a mechanical voice that sounds like it's coming from a dysfunctional robot. "Layla Peterson. Original name: Heisha Gill; prime suspect of the FBI for the serial killings in Ellicott City, Scottsville and Wilson. Her targets are typically children from the ages of three to eight. So far, she has ten victims and all of them died by mutilation." I involuntarily gasp at the word 'mutilation'. A serial killer? "Heisha disappeared from Austin a few years ago and had plastic surgery. She settled in Vancouver last year and established the Starkid Kindergarten."

I have to safe myself, at least run. His psycho smirk came along, “Let you go? No. Did you not watch the news? Who do you think I am? The most wanted,” He muttered and laughed, yeah just like a psycho. I scoffed, “Are you telling me you’re the serial killer?” I asked trying my best to distract him, I grasp the edge of my phone, though the rain has made the rearview I was watching from blurry, I could still his cap. “You wouldn’t believe-“ His shitty talks didn’t end when I took action, swiftly, I turned despite the knife cutting through my skin, I hit the phone very hard on his head.

She pouted, making her green eyes look all sad and shit. "Oh." Then it clicked cause her eyes lit up. "Wait, that guy who's into the fucked-up minds of serial killers, like you?" She said it like it was a hobby, like collecting stamps or something, not delving into the twisted minds of psychos. This guy had claimed all the theories about serial killers, like Bundy and the like, were bullshit. No connection between the evil they did and their grey matter. Just monsters who got off on hurting others, nothing more, nothing less. Sounded like an arrogant prick, but I'd let him keep thinking whatever he wanted. He didn't know shit about my world, about why I really left Russia. A secret I kept cl

A second later, the lights flickered back on. Both of them blinked against the sudden brightness while rain continued crashing loudly outside the apartment windows. Damian let out a breath. “Okay. Storm. Cool. I was mentally preparing for a serial killer standing behind the shower curtain.” Quinn laughed softly, her forehead resting briefly against his shoulder. “You watch too many horror movies.” “I profile murderers for fun, Quinn. My brain isn’t healthy.” The warmth between them returned almost instantly after that. Easier now somehow. Familiar.