Short Creepy Stories Novels & Stories

My clothes were ragged and I lost my sandals, but it doesn't matter because how I'll get away and save myself from these creepy creatures is the most matter. They're like hungry, craving for its foods. A predator hunting for its prey, which is me. They're creepy and scary so I close my eyes in fears. In my lifetime living, this is the first time I'm witnessing and experiencing these. I don't even believe in ghost nor fairytales. They're just fictional, an imagination. Human mind imagery creations formed from fears. Some of them are now approaching me while the others are still standing but ready to eat me. I screamed out of my lungs when they successfully reached me.

She was like a relic stuck in the past and I treasured the short time I had with her. At the time of her only visit, I was a little monster of a kid of five years. To put me in my place or pacify me, she told me stories about scary creatures and beasts that inhabited their village and one such creature was a manananggal. That was the one that stuck with me and the one that I could never forget. She explained to me what it was:

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.

She laugh witch like. I cringe. She's all friendly, mom to my closet friend hermione. She also appear all younger and way healthier than her age but she sure is creepy. She creeps and scare better than cockroaches. I shiver. My shakey tooth grit and collide themselves. Goosebumps surround my skin. This explains how creepy my very thoughts and imagination picture her. She wriggle my palm. She though creeps me but actually assure my safety. She assures non watches.

Everything looked normal. Then I heard it. A soft scratching, directly above me. I looked up. I shouldn't have looked up. The ceiling was full of faces. Dozens of them. Pressed against the plaster from the other side, flattened like flowers in a book. They were all smiling. They were all watching me. And in the center, where the ceiling met the wall, was a dark opening. Something was crawling out of it. Something with too many fingers. Something with eyes that had no whites.

“Things that would love to find a human wandering alone.” The way he said human—as though it were an inferior, fragile thing—made her skin prickle. She had heard the rumors whispered in the servants’ quarters, in the back alleys of town: creatures in the woods with eyes that glowed and teeth too sharp, stories of people who left home at night and never returned. She’d never truly believed them. Not until now, with Lucien standing so close, the night bending around him, the air between them charged with something she couldn’t name. “You’re scaring me,” she whispered.

Her words still made no sense, leaving me even more confused, “Turning him— Then it hit me. I heard the story once, of a beast who terrorized villages, towns, forests, during the full moon. A foul creature from the deepest pits of hell, with seven heads and no tail. A hybrid out of control. A rabid primate who bites the head off any being in sight, even without mercy. Goosebumps, they appeared all over my skin. I shuddered with fear, my toes curling as a sudden chill went down my spine. It was all staring to dawn on me, why he claimed this night was so special to him.

Story Note: “Room for One More” is a standalone short from my erotic collectiona mix of intense, sensual, and sometimes forbidden stories that explore the raw edges of desire. Each story introduces new characters, new fantasies, and unapologetically explicit encounters. This particular tale features a taboo dynamic between step-siblings, told with heat, dominance, and no holding back. Reader discretion is advised. *************************************************

“About the swamp being haunted?” I nod. Even though we hadn’t grown up together, I’m pretty sure that we both had gotten the same tired ghost stories passed around in the hallways about such places around our hometowns. “I know this sounds crazy, but what if the stories are true?” Her tone is fervent, and her eyes shine with a hot certainty. “Not the witches and stuff. But there is something there, and I think…” She draws in a deep, steadying breath. “I think it’s a demon.”

He lifted a hand towards me, but it fell right down beside him. As I continued backing from him, I found myself in a strange environment. Worse, Clinton was nowhere to be found. The environment was scary and eerily quiet, and I would have assumed I was in a cemetery if not for the fact that I didn't see any graves. Instead, I saw creepy creatures crawling out of holes that I couldn't see until they were all out. They were disgusting to look at, and I felt bile rise in my throat. I wrapped my arms around me as I stared warily at them. One of them, which looked like it was heading towards where I stood, suddenly paused, and I got the feeling that it was watching me.