Skinwalker Horror Stories Novels & Stories

Jacob Boris stared dejectedly at his pack members, all gathered in a circle around him. He knew all their individual stories: from the college student who was Bitten by a rabid changeling, to the young 14-year old who found herself in the dead of night among a gang of werewolves. Hs knew all their stories, had to listen to each and every werewolf in his pack tell the story of how they were changed the moment they joined his pack . It was one of his many roles as an Alpha, his many, challenging, tiring roles.

“Richard, you can’t just go around talking about killing another Alpha. Do you have any idea what that would cause?” I tilted my head slightly. “I’m not talking about killing an Alpha.” Gunner frowned. “Then what the hell are you talking about?” I hesitated for a moment, not because I doubted what I was about to say — but because saying it aloud made it feel heavier, more dangerous. The air itself seemed to listen. “You ever heard the stories?” I asked softly. “The ones the old packs used to tell about the thing that walked under the full moon. The one that didn’t belong to any pack or bloodline.”

Each volume of Strange short stories will have 3 medium-sized stories and about 10 short stories. To make it easier to understand and more transparent, this chapter will be like a summary for this and the following volumes. Vol.2: medium stories: The antics of Bia's crew ( ABC) Bia comments on a crew of children of criminals, in an invisible ship. In this world full of magic, demonic beasts and restrictions, they live on the run, abandoned by their parents. Not being accepted anywhere in the world they have to survive on small illegal jobs and from time to time to plunder.

I snapped at him, annoyed he was able to grab my attention like he had. “Very well, let’s see where was I? Oh yes, one day I saw the God Anubis and was convinced I had died, I was starving and hallucinating. Anubis approached me and asked if I wanted to avenge my family and escape the dreadful place I was in. Of course, I told him I did, and before I knew it, he was biting into my neck and feeding me his blood. Only when I had awakened did I realize what had happened. I had heard rumors from the guards of monsters that hid in the dark, killing those that crossed their path or making them into the same kind of monster. Confused, I stared at an ordinary man that sat across from me, laughing wi

He was lying face down, and face up, all at once. I live in that house now. I am the village "fixer." And every night, I listen to the scratching beneath the floorboards. I don't fear the ones that crawl. I fear the ones that wait. Because now I know that the most terrifying thing in the world isn't death—it’s a corpse that refuses to close its eyes.

I know this must be hard for them, considering that all our senses heighten when we shift; so I bet they all can smell the blood that runs through the veins of these people. “How long was I out?” I ask no one in particular as I dust the dirt off my clothing. “Just a few minutes,” Asher answers me. I look around and the crowd of humans has grown so large that even if we wanted to fight our way out, we would either be badly injured or at worse, killed. This is bad, so bad. They have also placed some sort of boundary between us and them, using White Skull Rocks. White Skull Rocks are said to ward off werewolves and other creatures. It is made from the dust of human bones mixed with some sort of

They’d made the decision firm when they were in Jodhpur, searching for a vetal that would take over corpses and haunt the souls of the living, begging to pass on from this world to the next. I’d been fairly nonplussed when they’d told me that – the stories about Paris sounded much more pleasant – but I supposed it wasn’t as bad as their travels through the Philippines, tracking a particularly nasty manananggal who was leaving a trail of injured pregnant women behind, who would later give birth to children with grossly deformed faces. They’d told me in gruesome detail about how they’d found the detached bottom half of her body, and how it had dissolved when they’d covered it in salt and garli

Some stories started with hate. This one ended with everything.