Novel & Cerita Scary Stories Ideas

“Like any of you are believable.” She smashed the pillow against Lor who was sitting on Grace’s bed. Lor shrieked: "Pillow fight!" and the craziness started. **** They binge-watched Korean dramas through the TV set that Grace had pre-arranged to be set up in her room for the night. They had a vote by hands on whether it would be K-drama or "It" starring Pennywise. After lights out though, they still started telling ghost stories among themselves, especially about the school ghost of the teenage boy who threw himself down the piss-shallow creek and bled to death. The stories made most of the girls too scared to go alone in the bathroom that was just a few meters away from the bed, so some of

He is smart tho but immature to think I will fall for his tricks and lies. " Strange beings? Like the ones in the movie?" I asked pretending to be scared " Yes, like the ones in horror movies with long nails that dig into the skin deeply and scary face" he said and I imagine the strange beings digging their long nails on someone skill and the scene is so scary. It's just an illusion, I don't have to believe everything he says. He is just trying to create fear and panic on my mind. " They really look so scary" I said pretending to be very scared.

Boys these days didn’t care much for cartoons anymore; they preferred superhero stories which—of course—always included some form of fighting. “At the very least, don’t give them nightmares,” Maera argued again. “Nightmares, Mae? Come on, don’t be ridiculous. I was just telling them a werewolf story. Why would they have nightmares about that?” Maera stopped in her tracks, turning to look at her best friend with a warning glare that made Crystal instantly fall silent. “Fine. No more werewolf stories,” Crystal said, pretending to zip her lips and toss the invisible zipper away. Maera took a deep breath and exhaled sharply before turning away again, continuing to carry the pile of laundry with

The second one made more sense but it was also the one that I had the most doubt in being the truth because of the duration and everything happening and what I was hearing that I didn't know before. I had given up on finding anything in the local libraries or even on the internet because everything that came up in searches was folklore and creepy stories of people who swear they have seen the undead and everything else parents use to scare us, children, into behaving ourselves. Some of the sites I had ended up on had seriously scared me a lot more than the three men who had turned into vicious beasts and nibbled on a moving car's tyres.

“I even told them it was creepy and we didn’t want to insult any spirits or creatures that live around here. They laughed and told me that those were us. Is that true are we the scary creatures? Because I don’t think we are scary.” "Good perspective. Okay, why don’t you walk for a bit and I will explain a bit. In nature all living creatures have what is called survival instincts. Their brains are formed so they will do certain things called fight or flight. Meaning if their brain tells them something could hurt them, they will either run away or defend themselves. But our brain decides which by the information given it. The less facts we have the higher our brain tells us to be careful. H

But still, my eyelids are absolutely reluctant to close. As I lay there staring blankly at the ceiling, I suddenly remembered Javier’s collection of horror books. That’s right. A while back, I’d idly picked up one of his scary stories. Since I’m actually a scaredy-cat, every time I read one of those horror stories, I’d immediately be scared out of my wits and end up falling asleep from emotional exhaustion.

There was food everywhere, balloons I distinctly remembered telling her not to buy, and a giant cake sitting untouched on the counter because apparently turning nineteen was a national event. I stayed near the kitchen mostly. Safe distance. I was avoiding him. This morning's events still playing over in my head. He was different. Very different and I got scared. I didn't know what to do or who to talk to. Who am I kidding, who am I going to tell that I am scared of my best friend's nineteen year old son who I have been having sex with since last year. A woman who should know better. And yet all I could think about was being on my knees for a nineteen year old a few hours ago.

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

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.

He was lying face down, and face up, all at once. I live in that house now. I am the village "fixer." And every night, I listen to the scratching beneath the floorboards. I don't fear the ones that crawl. I fear the ones that wait. Because now I know that the most terrifying thing in the world isn't death—it’s a corpse that refuses to close its eyes.