Short Halloween Stories Novels & Stories

"I guess that you want to know about how I became like that?" "I do admit to being curious," He said. "Besides, what's Halloween or Samhain without a little story about things that go bump in the night?" he gave her a dashing smile. Arnou couldn't help but return his smile. He was so charming. "Ok. After all, you are letting me stay over so I don't have to make a mad dash for my own haven before I get cooked by the sun." She snuggled up underneath of his arm and began recounting her tale...

It was October 19, 2020, and the late-night air was thick with the excitement of Halloween approaching. Five friends; Gem, Light, Mike, Reed, and Red were crammed into a Range Rover, their bodies buzzing with delight. The streets were lined with jack-o'-lanterns gleaming in the darkness, and there were no houses around. This caused doubt to grow in Gem’s heart. “Are we even near?” She asked Light, glancing nervously at Red and Reed, who shared the same uneasiness. The excitement that had filled the car moments ago was now tinged with a hint of dread.

BEFORE YOU READ Nobody is coming to save you. Themes: Forced Proximity, Snowed In, Size Difference, Breeding Kink. This story features a possessive, reclusive hero who hasn't seen a woman in years. Expect primal play, rough sex, and intense possessiveness. (***) Gabrielle

Ellie asked, a memory on the cusp of her thoughts as she tried to focus on why it was familiar. "Yeah, you know how you said you saw a Fate with a long, flowing red dress at the Feast of the Fates? Well, the Feast of the Fates supposedly ends at Halloween, it's the culmination of all of the Fates celebrating another year of their people. The mother of the fates is the woman in the red dress. That's why it's a red moon, the moon becomes a reflection of the mother and when the feast ends, the fates decide how the next year will go. So, big changes always happen at Halloween," Sam said as she glanced behind her to make sure Ellie had heard her explanation.

Crowburn. The town is said to have been built right above hell itself. "There is a myth about this town that every 100 years on Halloween night, demons from the very pits of hell come up to the earth and roam the streets, blending into the disguised populous searching for the perfect bride for their Prince. The Prince of Darkness himself. It is believed that the women die as they are never seen again, and every year, the demons return for more women." the woman speaking, my grandma pursed, taking a sip of water before continuing.

My Grandpa’s story began like this: “Grandpa! I’m glad you came today. Do you have a story to tell me? Make it a scary one! Oh, I know! How about when you were my age, what did you do for Halloween?” “Well, let’s see... when I was fifteen...” “Grandpa!” “What? Oh, right! What did I do on Halloween when I was your age? I don’t know if you should hear this. I mean, it’s not pretty. It’s downright scary as hell!”

Not being able to take my eyes off of it, I watch as it slowly sinks into the paper. I look around the room and a thought pops into my head. Speaking out loud, I ask, “Billy, are you there? If you are, please let me know somehow.” I have heard that on Halloween the veil between the worlds is thinnest. Maybe he is trying to contact me and let me know that he is watching over me.

Until now, strange short stories had only very short stories. But from volume two I intend to add stories that have 10 to 20 captains as well. These stories are not so long nor have so much visibility as a separated book. For this reason, I decided to move all then into strange short stories, that is already a storybook of different themes.

Too fucking bizarre to even contemplate, to even have been real. Still, it was funny, how the thin giant’s head didn’t seem nearly as large and monstrous tonight as it had when they were younger. There were other Halloween decorations on display along Brazier Drive, amid these sleeping Houses of the Holy. Richard noticed some window-cling mummies, and a bedsheet ghost in the trees. An autumn-harvest scarecrow with a pair of dullish orange pumpkins (whose fleshy insides must be turning to stringy, seeded mush with the warm September days) sat on the porch stoop next door.

Part One: Eyes of the Wolf Jamie Dalton lifted the grocery bag filled with Halloween candy and took a moment to inhale the aroma drifting from it. For most people Christmas was their favorite holiday but Jamie had always loved Halloween. From the time she was nine years old she made up fanciful stories about the night, stories of goblins and ghosts and all manner of creatures. As she got older the stories became more intricate, the characters more detailed. By the time she was an adult she was weaving in erotic scenes and drooling over the heroines she created.