Scary Serial Killer Novels & Stories

All right, let’s start over. My name is Sarah Killian, and I am a professional serial killer. No, goddammit, I am not a mother-fucking assassin, goddammit. Sorry. Again. That was my Tourette’s. I just have issues with assassins. They’re jackasses. Every. Single. Last. One. Jackasses. Let’s just say that it’s no coincidence the word starts with two asses, because one ass is not enough for those douche bags.

“Right, well good evening gentleman, im Norman Ashcroft head forensic psychologist and expert in serial killers, I have some very interesting information for you. First of all there are two types of serial killer- organized and disorganized. Organised- offenders are intelligent, socially and sexually competent. They carefully plan their killings; the victim is a stranger selected with care; mood is controlled before, during and after the crime. Crime scenes are usually neatly controlled. The Body is taken away and hidden, and the killer in this case is often difficult to catch.

I asked, not bothering to keep the curiosity from my voice. "I've only just seen him once myself, at a department store if I recall correctly, a few months ago. He's tall, chiseled, really well built. He's pretty hot if you come to think about it. Scary but hot. Then again Ted Bundy was hot and he was a serial killer." Skylar rambled. "She's definitely talking about the same guy." I thought to myself. "Do you want me to give you a drive home?" Skylar asked, when she noticed me walking away from the direction of the parking lot.

But here, in the quiet solitude of the bathroom, I could finally let out a shaky breath. My head was pounding and the door opened. "Occupied." I screamed "By who?" That wasn't a girl's voice or Marco, it was the strange man. The alcohol has not fully taken over me and my snapped to the door immediately. "Hello Killer" he smiled exposing his dirty teeth at my direction. So I was right, I did know who he was. That's when my head booted and I remembered that voice from Rarf club. He was one of Rarf's guard who had fun with little girls, suffocating them if they dont do as he says.

He didn't look scared," Will remarked. Looks can be deceiving," Sofer said. When they were done, Will hung up and drank the last of his fifth cup of coffee. "Clear as fucking mud," he muttered. The killer bets he's going to kill the guy by scaring him to Scan death? Gimme a break!" He threw his arms into the asperated. "Okay, let's keeP going. He kills three people on asperated. ay twenty-second and he takes a breather over the week-

I heard an incoherent sound coming from my right and I was sure it was Zac and I almost groaned out of frustration but I tried holding it in, it wasn’t the time for it. “Y-you’re her!” Zac exclaimed in disbelief. No shit, sherlock. I scolded my mind. Not the time bro. We have a possible serial killer in front of us right now so keep your head out of the sass pool. I sized the guy up and down to calculate the danger he might inflict. He was big and his eyes seem to be sharp and experienced which just increased my anxiety to a whole new level. God, why couldn’t you give me a sexist and cocky opponent that underestimates girls so that I can easily knock him out and go home to my tub of ice crea

He smiled, radiating confidence and obvious arrogance. "I'm not Jackson's accomplice." "But you do obsess over serial killers?" Agent Scott was typing away frantically, I wondered if he would break his fingers with that speed. His dark eyes met mine for a second before jerking back to the iPad screen. "I have an interest in studying them. Nothing more than that and it has nothing to do with Jackson." "A scalpel was stolen from the operation theater and handed over to Jack." "He threatened me to do it!" I said angrily.

Again. "So, you are the one that exposed me?," he asks in a dangerously calm tone. She smirks. "And you blamed it all on this ugly bitch!" He pushes and nails her to the wall in fury. He strangles her with every ounce of strength, his veins poking out of his arms. I have never seen him this enraged. "Call her that again and I'm ripping your neck off! I guess by now you also know I'm a serial killer!" ÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷

Walter Hallas, a 26-year-old store clerk in Leeds, England, was so afraid of dentists that in 1979 he asked a friend to try to cure his toothache by knocking out the offending molar with a punch to the jaw. The punch caused him to fall down, hitting his hard, and he died of a fractured skull. 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.

I concluded in my head, remembering what my therapist told me about Hunter's reputation, that was what assured me that he would not kill me with all the stunts I've been pulling, she once told me that he had killed someone for glancing at him in an event. “Miss Penelope,” The intimidating guy nodded his head at me, I looked my back to see if there was another Penelope in the car, and I was the one he was talking to because his black creepy orbs were fixated on me. “Me? Oh my god, you're going to kill me?? Is that why he is greeting me?” I tugged Hunter’s shirt, trying to get his attention and wishing I could disappear under his microscopic gaze. “You see, I've always told you that your face