Scary Stories Written Novels & Stories

Alpha Aidan explained as Archer and I joined the group of people huddled around the desk, whilst Darren hurriedly flipped through. “Here it is! The Tale of The Flesh Eaters, written by Arthur Bartley. It is said that Arthur saw these creatures one day which inspired the book.” Darren explained with a smile standing back so we all could see the story he was very proud to find, I mean this was only further validating the claims he’s been making.

Sage groaned. "It's not disgusting." Sophie grumbled back as Greg stood and ran away with three more sour candies in his mouth. Sage regarded her verbosity with a long look, and tempted to wilt beneath the stare, Sophie feinted by chewing the last of her candy. She wouldn’t be the first to be discomforted by a hard gaze from the hot alpha. Eventually she nodded and pushed her lips together. "Fair enough. That goes without saying. Most humans who write sighting stories do so anonymously. But, truthfully, it is not your human spy or your words that I doubted."

Viggo replied, referring to Scarlett's usual laptop. Scarlett immediately turned around and looked at Viggo. "Sir! I am a writer. It's clear that I need that device to write my stories." "Stories about werewolves?" Viggo responded. "Of course! I am a famous writer, you know. All my works are always sold out because of the many readers who love my stories. You would be surprised to see how famous I am among my readers," Scarlett boasted. But Viggo didn't care much about Scarlett's vanity. "I'm not interested," Viggo said, then went back to playing with his phone.

My Grandpa’s story began like this: “Grandpa! I’m glad you came today. Do you have a story to tell me? Make it a scary one! Oh, I know! How about when you were my age, what did you do for Halloween?” “Well, let’s see... when I was fifteen...” “Grandpa!” “What? Oh, right! What did I do on Halloween when I was your age? I don’t know if you should hear this. I mean, it’s not pretty. It’s downright scary as hell!”

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.

… [all men do is lie] … I nod, deciding to trust him. We sit in the silence for about a minute. I simply can’t process any of this. The world, as I know it, will never be the same after his explanation. The scariest part is that it is all true. As a child, I have been told stories about the supernatural. We would gather around a camp fire, and a teacher would tell us scary stories with monsters as main villains. Now, here I am, fast-forward to a couple of years later, I’m sitting alone with the man who created all my nightmares.

"So let me hear what you got." "Alright, well, I am thinking so far the story is exciting, and scary like I wanted but not very naughty. I think we need to improvise things so the rest of the story is really, really, naughty." "I see. Come over here baby . . . sit down . . . tell me exactly what you mean by naughty?"

1, edited by Joe Mynhardt Fear the Reaper, edited by Joe Mynhardt For the Night is Dark, edited by Ross Warren Short story collections: Dead Reckoning and Other Stories by Dino Parenti Things You Need by Kevin Lucia Frozen Shadows and Other Chilling Stories by Gene O’Neill Varying Distances by Darren Speegle The Ghost Club: Newly Found Tales of Victorian Terror by William Meikle Ugly Little Things: Collected Horrors by Todd Keisling Whispered Echoes by Paul F. Olson

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.

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.