Scary Stories To Tell の小説・ストーリー

****Amira***** I decided to tell the kids stories, I told them about the werewolves that lives in the woods. I told them how the werewolves would come out at night, and how they would howl at the moon. I described them as being large, powerful creatures with sharp teeth and glowing eyes. The children were enthralled by the story, and they huddled close together, eyes wide. I didn’t want to completely tell the kids that their was father is a werewolf, I was gradually preparing their minds for it..

Michael said, “Sakura told me we could play hide-and-seek, or we could tell scary stories.” Akira thought about it for a moment and then said, “You know what? How about we freshen up and change into our pajamas and then meet up in my room. Then we can tell each other scary stories. I know a lot of very scary Japanese ones.” Michael looked excited. “Really? Awesome.” Akira turned to Sakura and asked, “How about it?” Sakura nodded. “Sure, that sounds fun.” She turned to ask Mary and Katherine. “How about you two?”

All around them, boys and girls, dressed as monsters and super-heroes, began to titter and giggle, the tension from the story leaving their little bodies. Chloe wasn't afraid of the story; in fact, she had read it before, as well as many others. She didn't have many books at home, but one that she did have was a cheap paperback collection of scary stories that she read over and over again, becoming immune to their quaint shocks. “Alright, kids. I hope that wasn't too scary for you,” the teacher said. The class, as a single unit, assured her that it was not, in fact, too scary. However, several of the children's faces said otherwise.

asked one of them. “I have some back in the room. It’s for the sleepover.” replied the other. “I’m so excited!” “Me too! I can’t wait for the Bloody Mary! I will be the one to try it out first!” “Oh my gee! Are we going to read some creepypasta stories for the scary parts?” “Yes! And I heard Nympha will also tell us some true supernatural stories when she was still in the Philippines!”

Epilogue: Now that I have written several of these stories, I find that my old ghosts have started to haunt my dreams yet again. It is amazing that once things are written down, they begin to take on a life of their own. Just remember, if you don’t want things to go bump in the night, don’t tell anyone else about them.

After two days of high temperatures and intense boredom, he remembered the three books. Sam pulled out the one with the Mummy on the cover, because it looked the most innocuous. It was entitled the Ninth Pan Book of Horror Stories. He wasn’t the least bit prepared for what he found inside. The first three stories involved emasculation, murder and burning at the stake. In his fevered state Sam felt he was not only watching the characters’ suffering, he was experiencing it along with them. He flung the book at the wall and then hid it again, wishing he could burn it like Jinnot, the young girl in the third story who was burned alive.

Story Note: “Room for One More” is a standalone short from my erotic collectiona mix of intense, sensual, and sometimes forbidden stories that explore the raw edges of desire. Each story introduces new characters, new fantasies, and unapologetically explicit encounters. This particular tale features a taboo dynamic between step-siblings, told with heat, dominance, and no holding back. Reader discretion is advised. *************************************************

The air in the library was thick with the scent of old books and the faint hum of fluorescent lights. Sadile Marconi, her fiery red hair cascading over her shoulders like a river of flames, sat at a secluded table, her green eyes darting between the pages of her textbook and the clock on the wall. The numbers seemed to mock her, ticking away the minutes until her next class, a class she was dangerously close to failing.

she asked, clearly bracing for the worst. “Yes,” I said. “But later. As a treat.” Naomi groaned theatrically. “You lied,” she hissed. “We’ll start with stories,” I said. “Real ones. Some might be scary in parts. Some might be sad. But we’re telling them so you know where you come from. So no one can tell you lies and make you afraid on purpose.” I took a breath. “Who’s heard of the curse?” I asked. Almost every hand went up.

Tonight was our first official sleepover in the treehouse, and we'd dragged up sleeping bags, flashlights, and enough snacks to last a week. "Tell me a scary story," Avy said, settling into her sleeping bag. "I don't know any scary stories." "Make one up." "Okay, um..." I pointed my flashlight at my face for dramatic effect. "Once upon a time, there was a girl who read so many books that her eyes fell out." "That's not scary, that's stupid." "Fine. There was a boy who was so bad at football that the football grew teeth and ate him." Avy giggled. "You're terrible at this."