Scary Story Read Novels & Stories

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.

I smile hoping if I repeat that Asher and all of those men that were fighting to keep us safe would deal with those people, none of us would need to worry. “But how do we not worry?” Another asks me standing up and walking into the middle of the room, all of them still in their pyjamas, this telling me they all must have been tucked up in bed when all of this started. “There are many things we can do to stop the scared feelings, I know a story that my mummy told me when I was younger to stop me worrying about monsters, would you like me to tell you it too?” I ask looking at all of them which did peak their interests, a few begin to walk over and sit in front of me to listen, after a little w

As soon as I opened the first page, it excites me after reading first sentence. "What are you reading?" I felt the sofa lowered down a bit as I feel Patty sitting behind me. "I am reading horror stories." I simply answered. "I thought you like romance." "I like romance but I need to rest my fond in romances. I need to feel scared and creepy. Maybe there's someone here in fictional characters whom I can adapt the personality to scare my bashers." "That's good. Continue reading." I felt her walking away. "Do you want some coffee?" I heard Patty asked me.

she said. Mommy read me my favorite story, “The Cinderella Luna,” and she kissed me goodnight. I felt so lucky to have her as my mommy! I couldn’t stop thinking about the scary man, I needed to know why he watched me all the time. Did he want to drink my blood? Did he want to make me like him? No! No, my parents would never let that happen. He was often in the big office across the hall, but my parents would keep the doors closed so I wouldn’t have to see him. For some reason I felt like I needed to talk to him, I needed to see if he was really as scary as my mind was telling me.

She found it funny to tell me horror stories before bed. I remembered once returning the favor. I told her about Terry the ghost, a boy who’d died in an accident on the street across from our house. Terry’s ghost wandered our neighbor’s house where his family had once lived. Mom hadn’t slept alone for weeks after that, and she never told me another horror story. My mom was like me in some ways—she was terrified of the paranormal, or anything religious. That’s why her engagement to Bill had been such a shock. But even Mom had gotten braver, so why couldn’t I?

“Once the Stalker knows your name, there’s no escaping it.” The silence after her story was deafening. No one dared to move, as if the smallest sound would summon the very thing she’d described. The bonfire crackled ominously, and I felt a shiver run down my spine, the eerie weight of the tale lingering far too long. The story settled over me like a weight, the dread thick and suffocating. A sharp image suddenly flashed through my mind—blood splattered against walls, guts and entrails spilling across the ground, and lifeless faces staring into the void.

A loud, insistent pounding. Her scalp prickled. She froze, curling back against the sofa cushions. Every crime story she’d ever read, every horror movie she’d ever watched flashed through her mind. Her whole back went cold.

The few bears that still roamed the mountains were all hibernating comfortably in their dens. It could have been worse, Nicky and Teri knew—they could have been forced to share a tent with their eight-year-old brothers instead of with each other. But thankfully, the boys were in tents with their dads. The six of them had spent the last couple hours sitting around a blazing campfire, taking turns telling scary stories. Most of the stories were pretty lame, but Teri’s father raised some goose bumps with a tale of a crazed psychopath who preyed on campers, dragging them from their tents back to a cave where he slowly ate them alive. By the time he was done, the youngsters found themselves peeki

It infuriated Cassy more—with the night that’s the homecoming of the ghosts and horrors. A wicked laugh itched to be out, instead, she scrutinized the height. The distance between her and the ground did not harrow her. It amazed her at how different she’s lurking around where the normal people might not even stare without a wave of nausea washing over them. An urge to smoke-filled her; she fetched a pack from the inside pocket of her dark blue jacket; ignited the flame, mumbling, “Every legendary story is a pent-up frustration of human beings to invoke fear in the minds of those whom they hate. Several against one or one against many.”

"Is it so scary?" Hana asked Henry curiously. Henry's panicked expression was accusing him, his face pale, his eyes unbelievably panicked. Hana stood still, waiting for Henry to settle down, and asked, "Is that store scary?" Henry said fearfully, "It's a store for the abandoned. Those who entered it became criminals of the entire Quansi continent. Hana, the fact that we came in here will spread all over the place," "No one knows we got in here," Hana reassured Henry.