Scream Hollow Novels & Stories

I pull my phone out of my pocket, reading over a few emails when I hear Daphne giggle. The crowd of people that were talking walked away I could hear the tail end of their muffled conversation. “Yeah, I’d say he’s one hundred percent the decadent, gooey, gooey double fudge sundae but honestly he’s kind of a total a—” A group of kids scream so I miss the last part of what she’s saying. I lean against the curtain, trying to hear the rest of the conversation but a second later she opens the side of the booth and pops back in.

“No! They’re coordinates! They are three separate coordinates, all leading to specific locations on the map!” “Which map? Please tell me it’s a map of Earth.” Rider looked up the ceiling as if he was praying. “It is a map of Earth! And… the coordinates from the first letter correspond with…” Ru closed her eyes and crossed her fingers on both hands. “Please say Reaper’s Hollow. Please say Reaper’s Hollow. Please say Reaper’s Hollow.” A broad smile broke out across Lyric’s face. In a quiet voice, she said, “It is Reaper’s Hollow.”

CRACK-THWACK. Chunks of white bone flew into the air. The heavy rounds punched through their chests, shattering their torsos. The front line of the Hollow Men fell. They didn't scream. They just collapsed into piles of dry, rattling debris. "It works!" Kai shouted. "Kinetic damage! Keep pouring it on!" But they didn't stop. The second row stepped over the shattered remains of the first. And the third. And the fourth. There were thousands of them, emerging from the woods like a white tide. And they were fast. Once the initial volley ended, they broke into a run. It wasn't a human run. It was a scuttling, spider-like sprint, limbs moving at unnatural angles. "Brace!" Damian roared. They hit ou

She could feel its power pulsing faintly, like a heartbeat. “How much farther?” Sasha asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Not much,” Ethan replied. “You’ll know when we’re there.” He was right. The moment they crossed into the Hollow, Sasha felt it—a sudden, bone-deep cold that seemed to seep into her very soul. The trees here were completely bare, their gnarled branches clawing at the sky like skeletal fingers. The ground was dry and cracked, as if nothing living could survive here. “This place is… wrong,” Sasha murmured, wrapping her arms around herself.

“It burrows. When the last howl is heard and the first fire dims, it will rise.” She dreamt of Ash. She stood within the Hollow alone. Its great stones cracked, its sky blood-red. From the shadows, a figure emerged—tall, crowned in thorns, with no face beneath its hood. "The Flame burns bright," it rasped. “But it is only light because of the dark that watches.” She woke gasping, soot staining her fingertips. Outside, the Hollow slept uneasily. By morning, three scouts were found dead near the ravine path. No wounds. No signs of struggle. Only their eyes wide open in terror, and a spiral of scorched earth nearby.

Liam muttered, his hand going up in a silent signal. We all froze and the world seemed to go silent even the wind seemed to hold its self back. Then I heard it, low agressive growling and not the rasping moans of the Hollowed this was deeper and rougher. The sound was alive in a way that made my spine go cold and I seemed to tense up. "Not the Hollowed," Scarlet whispered. "No, something worse." Liam said quietly.

The humming of the air conditioning echoed the quiet shop as I watched Sandra sipped on her milktea, chest were out and chin was looking up, obviously boasting that she knew everything that I didn’t. “That explains his bitterness.” My stomach revolted in disgust. “What do you mean?” She tilted her head and stopped mixing her milktea with the straw. “Just because,” half-shrugging my shoulders, I said. She also shrugged her shoulders and crossed her arms on her chest as she lays her back on the chair causing her jeweleries hanging on her neck to click to each other producing a luxurious rhythm from the pearls. “How many years are you working in that company?” A line appeared between my brows b

The feral hits me first. Not with teeth, with words. “Wren Holloway,” it says again, voice like broken glass, and the name burns my ears because only the dead witch knew I almost gave it away. Draven slams into it, claws tearing through too many eyes. Black blood sprays, and the thing screams, but not in pain. It laughs. “More,” it hisses. “More for the Hollow Queen.” Hollow Queen. My blood goes cold.

The storm roars, hungry. I grip the needle. The village dissolves. --- **The Hollowfather's Gift** The hollow isn't a place. It's a *being*. A colossus of static and teeth, its form endlessly unraveling. It has no face, but I feel its gaze-a pressure that cracks my ribs, that liquifies my resolve. *"You've always been mine,"* it croons. *"The Weaver stole you. Shrank you. Let me remake you."* The storm begs. *"Let him."*