Scary Stories To Write About Novels & Stories

"The problem, Sophie, is that you have the chance of changing what will happen in the future if you tell us what you know. Like I said, I can tell a dozen stories. You need to give me a reason why I should run your story over any other, or why I should even run it at all. There are millions of humans every day who pretend to be vampires, demons, and other supernatural beings. They dress up, wear fangs, and some even drink blood. All over the internet, people claim they’ve seen vampires, know demons, or are werewolves. Why is that?"

I feel my hands sweating with nervousness. I can hear the cars stopping in front of the house. Slowly I walk to the wall-size windows, and I peak out. I am curious to see my future dear husband. One thing is for sure. He should sleep with one eye open because I might kill him in his sleep and become a black widow. I have no problem with that. I close my eyes, shaking my head. I think my books have a bad influence on me. This would be a good plot. I make a mental note to write that story. A mafia story. Who knows. It might even be a best-selling story.

The whole sky black making me more scared. I am not type of a person who gets scared easily... "Ahhhh" I screamed as kept my leg on some object. It could be a snake for God's sake. I removed my leg slowly from the object or the snake only to sign in relief. It's just a stick. "Buddy please we should go inside now.. Mom will definitely scold me once she realise I was out of the forest. What if she won't ever realise we are out of forest. She might be searching for us inside the forest only. We should definitely go now. What if we won't ever go back. What if a vampire suck our blood till we become dry or even worse what if a ghost appear and eat us. What if-"

Everyone was happy until they played a game which they shouldn’t have The fun they were having wasn’t enough for them, they desired for some scare and that they got. They decided to tell each other spooky stories. The oldest kid among them told the story of what happened to the owners of the house—of course he didn’t tell it as it happened because no one knows what exactly happened and so to fill that void he added more than he should to the story to make it spookier—it’s not like you could blame the kid

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.

Yeah, maybe I should have just listened to his advice to head home immediately or probably stayed back in the sick bay. But this is nothing new though. I have heard creepy, terrifying stories about how some of the supernatural mystical creatures decide to plague the school and turn it into their playground every single night, making it somewhat terrifying for students who decide to have some alone time in the middle of the night back at school. Some human students have never lived to tell the tale, and a few others who had survived had experienced the most traumatic situations of their lives—they had to be taken to therapy to recover from whatever terrifying experience had been rendered unto

It was forbidden and dangerous, a fire we were both playing with, and it was becoming impossible to resist the urge to get burned. The storm hit that night without warning. The sky turned a bruised purple before the clouds opened up, and within minutes, the power flickered and died, plunging the house into total darkness. I sat on my bed, my knees pulled up to my chest, listening to the wind howling against the siding. Thunder cracked directly overhead, a deafening boom that made me flinch and squeeze my eyes shut. I hated storms. I always had. The darkness and the noise made me feel vulnerable and exposed. Sitting alone in the dark, the shadows in my room seemed to stretch and move with eve

I said, feigning innocence. I glanced around after speaking. It was true. There wasn't a single living person in sight, but ghosts were everywhere. "This place is cursed!" Charlotte snapped. "I can't even stop. The moment I even think about it, it feels like needles are piercing my hands." Even as she spoke, her hands kept moving. Fear flickered across her face at the scene before her. The terror in her eyes was truly a rare sight to behold. "Is this your doing? Did you come up with all these tricks to scare me? You just want revenge for all the times I picked on you at school, don't you?"

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.

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.