Novel & Cerita Short Horror Novels

I said. “You really are full of surprises.” He said. And I looked over and smiled at him. “And don’t tell me you hate it.” I said. “I would never tell you that I hated it.” He said. We got to Nashville that night and we were hoping that since this city had already been hit, nobody would be hanging around. We got out of our cars and started looking around, but if there were any survivors they would be too scared to come out at night time. “Well, well. Would you look at who we have here? It’s the werewolf that’s causing us so many problems.” Someone said behind us. So we all spun around and we were being surrounded by vampires. So much for them moving on.

I apologize that this book is really short with less than 30k words in all. I plan to edit it at some point and make it better. I figured that a really long Horror book might be less interesting and would just seem drawn out. I've not read a lot of them but I watch horror movies so I wrote this like I would picture an Horror movie. I appreciate all those who stuck with me and read Reincarnation regardless. Thank you all. After saying this, I would love and appreciate your feedbacks and things to watch out for when I do edit the book. It would be really helpful and appreciated. Bonus scene ideas too would be great. Thanks once again.

She shrugged, a little awkwardly. I smiled back, wanting to put her at ease. “Thank you, Sie. I really appreciate it.” We flicked through some new books and papers while we waited for the pizza to arrive. They were all much the same – long, winding documentation of vampire sightings from the Victorian era, many of which were clearly allegories for something else, like impudent women or the fear of industrialisation.

This shadow, this darkness with fangs, it had the power to stipulate how they dreamed and that made him crazy with need to blow the creature’s head off. “This is a local legend about nightmares, a satanic sorcerer, and black magic. It is titled as Shadows and Blood, and is 50 years old. Folklore, through songs and words and this guy had recorded it down, a little and a lot of his own story.” She looked at the book, biting her lips, forehead crinkling in concentration. “Sound gory and ancient and I have never heard of this.” Art said as he struggled to open his tired eyes. It burned from the lack of sleep. Aurora looked tired as well, but she was dogged to finish the book, to find anything mo

See? This was such a beautifully yet tear-jerking novel I have ever successfully crafted an idea with, a few months ago. But after I have encountered all the horrible occurrences for the past months, I came back to work and turned this sad and romantic novel into a mystery and horror novel, which made all my work colleagues and supervisor absolutely petrified. They have no idea that I was even more shocked and horrified when I have suddenly realized that my novel had suddenly become so dark and twisted. It was beautifully written, like a psychopath has written a novel for the very first time.

His wrinkled face looked like it was crawling with countless wriggling worms. I shuddered and stepped back, whispering to Silvia, "Good thing I've got you. This place is terrifying." She snorted and suddenly shoved me forward, straight toward George. With an icy laugh, she said, "This pretty boy will make a great offering. You're going to love him." Before I could react, George gestured, and several eerie puppets stepped forward to pin me down and drain my blood. A sharp bell rang out, echoing through the night.

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.

Lady Tatya lounged about in her chambers, reading a horror novel. This was one of her favorite genres. She loved the thrills, the twists, the terrifying reality that burst through the pages. But most of all, she loved the creativity. So many ways to die, so many ways to make someone fall on their own sword. Tatya turned the page with such vigor, she almost ripped it. Yes, this was the moment in the story where the characters were cornered and trapped by the monster, the monster that had a million ways to torture them. Skinning, drowning, beheading… all wonderful ways to cause someone’s death.

It looked like spilled ink—the kind used to cross out a character’s eyes. "It’s a Platform Acquisition," Leo rasped, his Sovereign-Iron shoulder joint sparking as the new "Horror" code tried to interface with his remaining tech. "The 'Horror' publisher isn't interested in our redemption. They’re here to harvest the Tragedy." The Anatomy of the Genre-Shift In a "Billionaire Romance," the conflict is emotional. In a "Progression Fantasy," it is mechanical. But in a "Horror Manuscript," the conflict is biological.

Then, I heard the basement door click open, spilling a sliver of light down the stairs. I squeezed my eyes shut and covered my mouth, as though that could somehow quiet my breathing. Why had I even come down here in the first place? I knew this would be their first place to look. “Come out, come out, wherever you are...” Hans's voice, low and teasing, drifted down like molasses. I didn't move. The wardrobe was deep in shadow, but the basement was small. They'd find me eventually. Three sets of footsteps descended the stairs. The light from above stretched their shadows across the floor, huge and menacing, and I swallowed hard.