Skinwalker Scary Stories Novels & Stories

Mine and Grace's bullies were with him, I stopped and sat down which made his smile grow wider in a creepy fashion. He did not look normal, it was like if he was possesed by something, the smile was so uncanny and it made me and Cher nervous. "That is not our mate...that is a Skinwalker!" Cher stated as she began to run back to the rogue pack to escape the monster that tricked us into going near their territory and not our old pack.

I asked her, moving closer. Lyric protectively crosses her arms, and I can see her recalling her memories. “He didn’t have a scent for starters. And not from using a masking spray. His eyes were a strange mustard color and his skin,” She shudders with revulsion. “His skin was a washed-out gray, ashy. He moved in complete silence and his teeth…” She lifts her hand to her mouth and points to her own. “They were sharp like needles, yet smaller than a Werecats. I had never seen canines like that. And he moved fast. He made my wolf nervous, and she doesn’t get nervous.” Lyric admits. “Skinwalker perhaps?” Tawny asks.

by the time the sun shimmers at the horizon behind me and the crescent moon dips below the horizon before me, I have thought of every word I know of to describe really, really, really boring walking. There is absolutely nothing here. I think of the stories we told each other when we were pups. About wraiths that lived beneath the sand of the Barren that would pull you down into their nests. They would paralyze you and then their grubs would feed off you, slowly eating you alive. That was a favorite. There are the roaming packs of wilder-scorpions, creatures that are half beast, half scorpion. Where the beast's tail should be is a scorpion's sting that will cause your skin to turn black and t

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.

It was about to continue it's step when it was suddenly stabbed by dozens of arrows sticking out it's back, and letting out a loud roar it turned backward at Scarlett who stood at a branch on a tree with a bow and arrow held elegantly in her hands while her fiery red hair swayed rhythmically by the wind, she looked fierce, beautiful and breathtaking like the mythological goddess Athena. PS: The skinwalker is knowledgeable of the banshees extinction by taking bits of the memories of Alexander.

As he was distracted, he lost his balance due to the sudden pull and fell back on the bed, right on top of an amazingly soft surface. Della and Anom's faces were close enough that they could feel each other's breath. Anom brainstormed an idea to get out of this situation without making her feel embarrassed, and when Della spoke, "You still haven't finished your story about how you stole that red diamond from that castle in the forest. And the one about the bet you made with someone to steal the undergarments of the wife of the president of some country. And the one where you had to dress as a woman to get out safely. My curiosity will disturb my concentration. You don't want to affect my cul

The Skinwalker- It stood tall and imposing, its eyes glowing red. The skinwalker cocked its head to the side. "I've been watching you”. "The last time we met, I left you with a scar," “And I felt your fear,don’t think you can scar me” The skinwalker let out a low growl, its eyes flashing with anger. "I will not run this time” “Stay away from Liam,he has something that belongs to me” “I only came to give you a warning,the next time,you won’t be alive to even get a warning”

I asked innocently, stroking her hair and kissing all over her face. She looked very tired but still damn beautiful. I adrmired how pretty she looked. She chuckled and sighed. “You don't know why I am thanking you?” “I want to hear it from your mouth.” “I am thanking you because you fucked me…” “Who fucked you and how did he fuck you?” I sarcastically asked. “Doxante fucked me and he fucked me magicaly.” “That is a wrap for the first lesson. The second lesson is called SIMON SAYS.”

Cold as winter steel. Another had curls of inky black and quiet eyes that seemed to see too much. The third—a tall woman with deep brown skin, a jagged scar along her face, and eyes full of storm. And then the weird man that bit her yet unwilling to leave her side. Together, they all looked like something out of an ancient warning - the kind carved into stone and forgotten by time. And then, the dark took her again.

It was late autumn when they arrived — the trees skeletal, the air thick with a kind of oppressive stillness that seemed to hum beneath the surface of the world. Emily Carter, a graduate student in folklore and urban legends, had heard the whispers about WildWood all her life. She had grown up just a few towns over and had spent years gathering the old stories: tales of the “vanishing patients,” the “howling trees,” and the “night doctors” said to stalk the forest paths. Determined to separate fact from myth, Emily organized an expedition for her thesis, enlisting a few brave companions: