Scary Stories Sites Novels & Stories

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.

For this reason, I decided to move all then into strange short stories, that is already a storybook of different themes. The w******l policy does not allow me to remove or delete those books, so they will remain there but as a "paused" book. You can find only the introduction of those books on w******l and no else more. But there you can find some covers I made for those stories and that I can not upload here. The stories of a single chapter will continue to be published, of course. Each volume of Strange short stories will have 3 medium-sized stories and about 10 short stories.

Ten-year-old Bree chimed as Emma looked over her shoulder worriedly. “That’s nice, sweetie. Why don’t you tell me about that mermaid story again?” “I hate that story. Can I tell the one about the wolf?” Bran chimed in. “Wolf?” Patrick asked as Brinna looked out the window and saw another animal running alongside their vehicle. “Yeah, the one that eats the girl in the red hood.” “Mommy, I don’t like that story. It is scary.” Bree snuck at the rolling landscape and saw the scary animal with sharp teeth sneering at her, so she pretended to look forward and saw her parents exchange a look.

I joke. “We’ve been roommates for almost five years, asshole. I can’t help but know what you look like,” he deadpans. “Come on. Do it.” “No fucking way,” I say. “Scared you can’t hack it?” Axl asks. “No. I just don’t want to do it.” “Do you have any idea how much I can make in a night?” “Can’t be that much,” I quip. He says the amount, and my jaw drops. “Seriously?”

They make me all paranoid and shit. I try to keep a neutral expression, when I feel Gavin looking at me. He doesn't need to know how big of a wimp I am. On the inside though I'm screaming no, no, no. "Does Naudia like scary movies?" Gavin asks Grant and Grant laughs. "No, she doesn't." He answers and I feel myself blush. Gavin starts to say something, but I interrupt him. "It's fine. I don't mind." I blurt out quickly.

Patty groaned with visible frustrations on her face. " Let's just tell some horror stories." My eyes lightened up as I hear horror stories. I love horror stories too. Sheena usually tells me something about horrors. At first, I'll cover my ears and pretend I didn't hear anything from her but sooner it wonders me and catch my interest. I sometimes read one-shot horror stories.

Before she could fully grasp the meaning, Greta flinched and jumped three feet away in fright. I helpfully explained, "It's an incurable sexually transmitted disease." Hilda froze, and her face turned beet red. In the next second, she started wailing out loud. "How could you slander me like this, doctor? What will become of my reputation? You're an incompetent doctor. You're a quack!" After yelling at the doctor, she instinctively turned to Greta for support. To her dismay, Greta had already retreated to the doorway. With a pale face, Greta stammered, "Doctor, I was sitting so close to her. Could she have passed it to me?"

It was late autumn when they arrived — the trees skeletal, the air thick with a kind of oppressive stillness that seemed to hum beneath the surface of the world. Emily Carter, a graduate student in folklore and urban legends, had heard the whispers about WildWood all her life. She had grown up just a few towns over and had spent years gathering the old stories: tales of the “vanishing patients,” the “howling trees,” and the “night doctors” said to stalk the forest paths. Determined to separate fact from myth, Emily organized an expedition for her thesis, enlisting a few brave companions:

Nora concluded in a silk undertone. Impressed by her good storytelling skills, the kids applauded her as they glued their vote stickers on the voting pad. However, amongst the other kids, some people weren't impressed—Gina Adams and minions. "Oh, PUURLEES. . . This is the lamest scary story in the history of lame scary stories," Gina jeered loudly, her tone wielding the usual amount of obnoxity.

Rage flashed on her face and she shook her head. “I’m going to figure this out and I’ll tell you what I find. But I had to talk about it and you’re the only one I know who won’t decide that I’ve lost my mind. So I’m sorry I’m throwing this on you, but…” She stopped pacing again and turned to face me. “It’s real, Cara. You’re real. These people are real. I don’t know what they do, whether they’re good, bad, or otherwise. There’s a lot of scared people out there. If you want, I can send you the links. But I have to warn you, this isn’t the only stuff on these sites. Some of the other stuff…”