Skinwalker Horror Stories Novels & Stories

I pulled it from the shelf and sat down at the table, flipping it open. The first few pages were filled with the usual stuff—founding dates, town milestones, and the kind of folklore that every small town seemed to have. But as I read further, the stories grew darker. Mentions of strange disappearances, shadowy figures in the woods, and whispers of creatures that hunted under the full moon. Wolves. My breath caught in my throat as I skimmed over the passages. It wasn’t just talk of wild animals. There were stories—centuries old—of people who could shift into wolves. People who lived among the townsfolk by day but became something else under the cover of darkness.

The Ember Ghost opened his mouth and showed his sharp teeth before lowering her mouth to the exposed woman’s neck. The crowd watched in silence as the Ember Ghost appeared to suck the woman’s blood. The woman’s arms flailed weakly but her face looked serene, if not enjoying the experience. Then, the woman’s expression slowly changed into pain and she grimaced. She placed her arms around the Ember Ghost’s head weakly before dropping them weakly to her side. Then, the woman’s limp body slid out of view leaving the Ember Ghost standing. He wiped the remaining red stains from his mouth with a swipe of his arm before disappearing within the smoke that blew from across the float.

I stood alone in the middle of the hall utterly immovable, rooted in place. I won't let this happen under my watch! As the last bits of Elias's form melted into a swirling, shapeless mass, a rotten smell of decay and black magic washed over the hall. This made some of the people there gag and dizzy. For a pause, the still-shifting shape seemed to hold an undecided, almost alive evil behind its grotesque changing form. Then, with a sound like a thousand suffering souls crying together, the skinwalker's true form burst out in a fountain of rancid guts and tainted essence.

she said slowly, her voice low, “then she’s as good as dead.” Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. I had spent so long denying the existence of the skin walkers, convincing myself they were nothing but myths. But now, hearing Yara—a witch—validate their existence, I couldn’t deny it any longer. “They’re real?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. Yara nodded, her eyes glinting with something close to fear. “Very real. And very dangerous.”

Mitch withdrew his fingers and spread my wetness over my clit. “Ohh…yes..” I gasped, my voice rising in the silent basement. “No, sister,” Mitch murmured, a mischievous edge curling through his voice. “We’re not done with you yet.” Hans pulled his cock out of my mouth and shoved two fingers in instead. "Promise us you'll be a good slut, Yassy." He moved his fingers inside my mouth for a moment before pulling them out almost instantly.

The air between them shimmered like heat rising from summer roads. The border. The stone circle. William's bedtime stories flooded back. Wolves the size of horses. The Lycan King who skinned trespassers alive and hung their bodies from trees as warnings. Cross into Shadowpeak and you belonged to him, every part of you, forever. I'd laughed at those stories once, before I understood what monsters really looked like. "There!" A man's voice behind me, rough and eager. "She went this way!" I looked at the shimmering air, at certain death on one side, then back at certain torture on the other.

Enzo Nina’s eyes widened when I finally told her the truth. “No,” she said, pacing back and forth and rubbing her head. “This isn’t real. Werewolves aren’t real. Talking skeletons are not real!” I sighed and stood, walking over to her. “Look,” I said, pulling aside the torn fabric of my jeans to show her my wound. It was already healing. The torn flesh from the skeleton’s attack was rejoining without leaving so much as a scar. Even the blood disappeared.

Shawn said suddenly. "What did you say?" "The description of the creature says it's a mythical werewolf." Willow just stared at this slightly different detective. He was quite tall, with dark hair and darker skin than most light-skinned people, like an Indian. "Some say a lycan. Or a skinwalker." Shawn added. A small sigh escaped Willow's lips. "You think I'm making this up?" "That depends. I need to see the autopsy results and compare them to your story." The man met Willow's gaze. Not hard, but deep enough. "Or I could just assume that your story is true. It takes time to find out the truth."

I laugh. "Okay, so now at least I know we are going to a cabin in the middle of nowhere where there may or may not be a Bigfoot living," Claire laughs. "If you believe the people in town. You will believe that there is a Bigfoot. Many of them swore that they had seen a Bigfoot before. However, I know that they must have been drunk and seen a little monkey, or they must have seen a bear and have taken it for Bigfoot. According to the legends, there are also skinwalkers, which you are not to name in front of the local people. Just remember that. Never say that word in front of locals. There might also be a werewolf of two, or as they call it, a dogman," I laugh.

I showed her my scar of where the weird bite was. “Oh my God!” she screeched and looked at the bite. “It’s a vampire!” she said. I couldn’t stop my laughing. “Yeah, right, and I am Elena Gilbert” “I’m serious! There’s all these legends about them in Europe.” “Myths to scare children and tourists, I don’t believe it.” “Now, Skinwalkers, I have heard of those, and my friend had visual evidence, she used to live in the Appalachian Mountains in Tennessee. There’s a lot of evil creatures there for some odd reason.”