Scooby-doo Scarebear Novels & Stories

It was carved into the shape of a smiling Bhramuth, and the warmth of her skin lingered on it. Now, without the pendant, Charlotte finally saw her colleagues, who had been there all along. "We have plenty of employees here. From now on, you'll be working with them," I told her. I clapped my hands happily as I watched terror spread across her face. "What is happening? What are these things?" Charlotte screamed. The workshop was crowded with ghosts. At that moment, they were all sizing her up. They looked disturbing—headless men, women with missing limbs, and even malformed infants. No one could witness such a sight and remain unshaken.

“Look, if you think making your hand light up is sufficient to inspire me, you’re wrong.” I’m opening my mouth to call him out on his lack of care when the sound of slamming branches makes me spin around. From out of the woodland stumble a combine of werebears, these ones greater indeed than most of the ones I’ve seen some time recently. And behind them, like a apparition out of my most noticeably awful bad dreams, is Tobias. “Looks like you were right,” the cleared out hand werebear snarls to my previous friend. “Tobias,” Charles breathes, his eyes widening.

I can tell from the brown hair that breaks out on the back of his neck that this man is a werebear. Werebears are known to have tempers, and this one is drunk. Now is not the time to poke the bear. The crowd, aware of the danger, collectively takes a few steps back. He headbutts the guy who stepped in, but he dodges it and drops. Almost too quickly, the other guy kicks the werebear’s feet out from under him, and everyone watches in awe as he falls to the ground. The viewers gasp in surprise and a few ooh and aah. The bear doesn’t get back up. He must be so drunk he passed out. The scent is gone and I can finally breathe.

“And way more stuff, too. Lots of punching. Cutting my breasts with a knife. Beating the bottoms of my feet. Bear was asking for money, see. Said that I was his little whore, and told the guys that if they wanted to see him force me to do something, then they had to put their money on the table. A guy would put down the cash, tell Bear what to do, and Bear did it to me. The pool cue – he said that was the grand finale, and the honor of doing that to me would go to the highest bidder to do personally. So he was taking his time, I think, teasing them and whipping up the excitement.” “Fucking animals,” Scars growled, beyond anger now, well into rage, hoping hard that none of those creatures wer

“Gabriel,” Scar suddenly turns to the big dumb bear, “There was a time when you bullied me at school and were caught by the teacher. When my teacher asked you to give her mom’s number, you said the wrong number before you quickly changed it. Except it wasn’t a ‘wrong’ number, was it? It was the number you were told to memorize when you were a kid before it was changed to her current one. Why did she use this phone number for twenty years without any trouble when you had to memorize two?”

He said excitedly and started nuzzling his face into the bear’s fur. “Byron, what are you doing!? It’s a wild polar bear. It might claw your eyes out.” Skyr warned him. Byron gasped and looked at him. “They do that? Well, I wouldn’t know since this is the first time that I am seeing one. Even if it bites or scratches me I won’t have any regrets! It’s so cute.” Byron ignored his warning and continued to cuddle with the cub.

Out of all the shifters when I was 12 the bears were the first ones I studied and read about. Abby and Lance were coming back tonight for dinner with Mar-Mar. I sunk even further to the couch I was sitting on. I was enveloped in a pair of skinny jeans and one of Doms hoodies. It swallowed me and it smelled like him. Exactly what I needed. It's the only thing that kept me calm and sane-ish. My hair was up in a messy bun because I really didnt even want to deal with it. "SASSSYYYYY!!!!" I heard my bff scream from downstairs. I will stab that girl one day if she keeps screaming like that.

Scar POV. I scared her, my temper got the best of me! All my hard work of hiding who I am, hiding my beast of a face, visiting her dreams, I've fallen for her! But then I went ahead and scared her away. I didn't want anyone to scold my little fox! She's mine why is he yelling at her, in my possessive brain, it didn't register that the one talking to her was her father, we've been bonding, she trusts me enough, she and I have a bond strong enough that she could see me all the time, she was falling for me but she wouldn't say the words.

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.

Billy roars loudly behind me as the ground rumbles in his distaste. Emal trumpets, Sarah and Andrew growl, Gregor and Hans flip around behind me. They are going crazy, slamming the ground violently and hooting. I can see fear settle in the eyes of a few men. The man with the scar looks impressed, and a little intimidated. “Liam, you get the bear. Your face is already ugly, and your mate seems to like you how you are. My mate would kill me if I mess up my handsome mug.”