Novelas y relatos de Scary Text Message 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.

Lena stared at the message glowing on her phone screen, her pulse quickening with each passing second. The words were brief but chilling: “Your home is not safe. Trust no one. Someone close is part of it.” The text had no name, no identifier. It was a warning from the shadows, sent to shake the very foundation of her security.

I got my phone out when I got bored and winced when I saw the gazillion messages and notifications I'd gotten in the short time I'd abandoned it. Tons of them were about work and business, but then in the midst of all those messages was one from an unknown number. I opened it with squinted eyes and gasped when I saw the wordings. "Scarlett is not going to survive. She needs to be punished." I gripped the phone tighter and continued to read it until it was engraved on my brain. Shit. What the fuck was going on? Had whoever sent this shit been the one who set up the accident?

It was another ordinary day, until Shannon got a strange text message on her phone. It was from an unknown number, and the message was cryptic and unsettling. Shannon's heart started to race as she tried to decipher the meaning of the message. She felt a sense of dread wash over her, and she couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was about to happen. Shannon sat at her desk, staring at her phone. She couldn't stop thinking about the message she had received. Who was this person, and what did they want? What could they possibly mean by "I'm more dangerous than you can think"?

My fingers moved quickly to the messaging app and found that there were many threatening text messages. They were all from unknown IDs. I opened them one by one until the last message indeed read the same as what Richard had just mentioned. [You're ignoring me? Fine, but you won't be able to ignore me anymore if you find out what I can do to your mother.] My hands were suddenly shaking. The cell phone fell onto the table with a loud thud. My breathing quickened as panic set in. "Oh my, I'm sorry, Nikkie. I thought you had seen all the text messages. I was skimming through, and suddenly, the latest message popped up in the notification drawer. It's okay, come here," Richard said apologeticall

Money first. Then the job. — She paid. And waited. For this moment. — But now— Everything felt wrong. — Her fingers trembled as she discreetly pulled out her phone. Her eyes scanned the screen. A new message. From Undead. Her breath caught. She opened it. And froze. A short message. — You got scammed, idiot. Next time, don't trust so easily. At the end— A name. Undead Scammer. — Her mind went blank.

My mood darkens further when my phone lights up with a text message from an unknown number: Dearest BestBroyBoyBand, Just filling you in to let you know that I'm home safely and waiting for your return. Cue your sigh of relief. You were probably so worried about me. Fortunately, I lost Ramos on the way back from the beach. He could possibly have been abducted seeing as I last saw him being dragged away by some Mexican with a gun, the same Mexican whose truck I used to get back home. Now that I'm sitting here, having Max text you while I carefully blowdry my hair, it's possible I may have traded Ramos for the truck. Don't really know; I don't speak English Mexican well.

Her mind louder than ever. She stared at the ceiling. And smiled. Just slightly. For the first time in weeks— she felt safe. Then— her phone lit up. A text. Brian. Emma frowned. Opened it. Brian: We need to talk. Her stomach dropped. Another message came immediately. Brian: I found something. Her breath caught. Her fingers tightened around the phone. Then— the third message. The screen glowed in the darkness. Cold. Sharp. Terrifying. Brian: Call me as soon as you wake up.

A text message from an unfamiliar number appeared on the screen. “Xyla Quest, you b*tch. I will never let you off the hook. Go to hell.” Xyla didn’t even have to think about it to figure out who the text was from. Apart from Mary Sullivan, the retarded woman with big boobs, nobody else would do such a stupid thing. Rebecca Robin’s expression instantly turned gloomy when she saw the content of the text. “Who is this? It’s outrageous.”

I've never gotten messages like this, not even when two club members punched each other's faces. Thirty messages from April alone. Her texts blurred into each other, but a few stood out. “Did you do it?” “Arian, please tell me it’s not true.” “WHY ARE YOU NOT ANSWERING YOUR PHONE?” “Where are you? I know you didn't do it, just answer your damn phone.” “Arian, don't do anything stupid.” “What the hell is she talking about?” My hands were shaking. Before I could reply, new notifications kept coming in like a storm. My group chats were flooded. My inbox had jumped from ten to ninety-four unread messages in the space of one night.