Scary Stories Ideas Novels & Stories

It coiled my nerves and spine, weighing in the air like something tangible. I remembered Mom telling me stories when I was younger. Some were just simple bedtime stories to help me sleep, but others were scary ghost stories goaded on by Leo. Wanting to be brave like my older brother, I begged for them too. She was a silver-tongued narrator. Whether it was Goldilocks and the Three Bears or an old Italian ghost story, Mom painted pictures so vividly it was as if she’d experienced them firsthand. And I knew what she was about to tell me was a firsthand experience, and she was going to weave an image that would likely keep me up at night wondering if Mattia was going to appear standing over my b

And it’s already had a taste . Tales from The Lake Vol.1 anthology—Remember those dark and scary nights spent telling ghost stories and other campfire stories? With the Tales from The Lake horror anthologies, you can relive some of those memories by reading the best Dark Fiction stories around. Includes Dark Fiction stories and poems by horror greats such as Graham Masterton, Bev Vincent, Tim Curran, Tim Waggoner, Elizabeth Massie, and many more. Be sure to check out our website for future Tales from The Lake volumes.

With a choir, singing in her living room! “Beth,”Emma said ever so sweetly,“honey,are you totally sure you weren't having a dream?You must realize how this sounds!All this talk of caskets and corn children giving you ominous warnings….did you watch a horror movie before bed?You know how those upset you.” Beth composed herself as best she could.”No, I didn't watch a horror movie Em.I came downstairs thinking I’d left the telly on and there in my living room was a casket with me in it!And a choir of children.”

She told Alexander about everything starting from her uncle's miserable mental health, the missing of Aunt Stella, the phone call she got with his number, her visit to the haunted house, the fakir's rescue, voices and growls of the monster which she often hears in her head. Alexander was speechless noting his 'would be' wife's mental health. He obviously did not believe in sorcery or black magic that Amara had talked about. No educated youth would believe in such sick practices. He decided to consult a psychitriast but was this entirely Amara's psychic sickness or indeed an evil power was looming around her? The growling voice he heard on the phone? Was it just an illusion?

When we entered the bedroom I stopped, taking in what he had prepared. The bed had been stripped down to just the mattress. Black restraints were attached to all four corners. A spreader bar lay on the nightstand next to an array of toys. Paddles. Floggers. Clamps. Vibrators. A riding crop. Everything I had told him I wanted to try. My pussy clenched at the sight. "On the bed," he commanded. "Face up. Arms and legs spread." I climbed onto the mattress and positioned myself exactly how he wanted. Arms stretched above my head. Legs spread wide. Exposed. Vulnerable. My heart was racing so fast I could hear it pounding in my ears.

She asked with a grin in his direction. "Better," he laughed. One time he had helped her in arranging the entire library with his magick. She was impressed. "Mama Bora, you look as beautiful as ever. I - I have a favor to ask." When he stopped, she waved her spongy, withered hands at him in a gesture to go on, "We are doing a project about local lore, myths and legends. Do you have any book suggestions on it? Especially something that talks about with nightmares or dreams?" He sounded too vague even to himself, but Mama Bora's eyes became dazed for a second and then clearer as she nodded to herself. "Also one about shapeshifters."

“Do you think it’s haunted?” My breath sticks in my chest at her words. Before I can say anything, Jack laughs. “Don’t be stupid. Of course it isn’t haunted.” “Some people think it is,” I counter. “There have always been stories about this place, about the swamp.” The woman pauses as an uneasy shadow flickers across her delicate features. “What kind of stories?” she presses. Jack once again cuts me off. “Who gives a shit?” he chuckles. “Ghosts, witches, werewolves–that’s all kid stuff. The only thing we should be afraid of is the IRS.”

“Why do you think that is?” “It’s obvious. The locals grew up hearing all the spooky stories about this house, had it drilled into their brains this is one of the most haunted spots in the city.” “Power of suggestion?” Brad spread his hands and shrugged. “I’m just saying it’s at least psychologically possible that being fed a steady diet of those kinds of tales could . . . color one’s perception. Have you jumping at shadows and reading sinister intentions into the most mundane occurrences. I don’t think it’s inconceivable it could even foster a need to create circumstances that would lend credence to the stories.”

Marcus said, grabbing a marshmallow and sliding it onto a skewer, "if it's up to me, I'm going to stuff you with marshmallows and anything else you want." He waited until it was perfectly golden, then placed it in my mouth, watching with clear amusement as I tried to chew and smile at the same time. "And if it's scary stories you're missing," he added, his eyes glinting mischievously in the firelight, "I can start fixing that right now." Several people around the bonfire leaned in, clearly intrigued by the idea of a scary story. "Oh, hell no!" Mia protested immediately, jumping to her feet. "I'd rather go to bed early than listen to one of your horror stories, Marcus!"

Anyway, he kept saying that there are horrible creatures that lurk in the darkness here… While growing up he told me the story of the time when he was ten years old, his dog ran out of his family home—this townhome, the home I’m just about my home until my dad gets out of jail and the social worker says I can go back. He goes on and says that he watched his dog die that night being eaten alive by a wolf-like humanoid that he himself barely made it back home to safety. Then there were these stories of the locals being blood-sucking vampires and all the BS surrounding that subject. Oh and the witches of the forest and the great lake—supposedly they lure pregnant women to their deaths and drown