Stalk Stories Novels & Stories

She was on the verge of losing it. "No! Please, don't tell them! I'll talk, Matty! I'll tell you everything!" Hearing this, Matteo finally loosened his grip. "Start talking." Rebecca gasped for air, coughing violently as the rush of oxygen burned her throat. However, she didn't dare stop. She gasped sharply, her voice breaking. "Y-You can check my phone!" Frantically, she unlocked her phone and handed it over with shaking hands. "I didn't do anything! This is all a misunderstanding!"

"And I tell them stories." "What kind of stories?" Herb said. This was the part that had gotten him out of bed early on a Saturday morning (his only day off from selling mattresses the rest of the week) to come over here. Willie had mentioned stories when Herb got after him for being late coming home so often. It seemed they made quite an impression on the kid, but when Herb asked what kind of stories they were Willie clammed up. The Brookwood woman shrugged. "You know: ghost stories. The kind children like. Mostly ones my grandmother told me when this was her home. I could tell you one, if you like? So you'll see that they're not so bad."

One of the most famous ghosts in the southern states of the USA is "Soap Sally". In the 1950s, there was an old lady soap-maker who walked the streets of the mill villages kidnapping children and murdering them to use the fat in their bodies to make soap. There were numerous reports of people having seen her for years after her death. Every time a child went missing, Soap Sally could be seen wandering the streets, carrying her knapsack full of soap. 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.

The above sentences are the thoughts of the author about what he thinks, but it is my duty to tell all the things he has in his mind. The space science and the beginning of the human era, why I always talk about the past, why I'm interested in the dead stories, why I tell a tale of another time, why I don't like the present and, also why I'm not narrating about those dumbasses who were about to close the mysterious case of random killing by an unidentified criminal (creature)? You might have so many questions and confusions about the fact that I puzzle a simple story in what we call a Riddle…? But you can still believe in me that I'll give you a gift tomorrow.

Hope asked as he stared at my teary eyes. “I am not; Mama just got something stuck in her eyes.” I lied, dampening my tears with the pocket square I held. “Mama, you don't look like you're telling the truth. Is something wrong?” He asked with his little voice laced with concern. “Hope, I think I'm stressed. Why don't you go and play in your room? I'll get your dinner ready, OK?” I said, forcing a smirk as I walked towards the end of the hallway. It

The movie was scary to fawaz, he wasn't familiar with such big fishes. The movie ended in two hours , nafisa and fawaz were already sleeping. Khadija sigh before joining them. They woke up around four in the evening, prayed and they sat talking. "Naffy, it is getting late. Let me get going " Khadija said to nafisa . "Okay"She replied and run off to her room. She got chocolate cake, and chocolate biscuits for fawaz, then Khadija's favorite square veil. The house felt empty, just like her an empty soul when her husband left her. she flipped through the cartoon channel , sighing heavily. She missed her husband.

Coughing, he went to the washing area and washed how mouth full of chocolate bits. "Berry gold creamer," Grandma laughed so evil like in the movies. "Grandma," I called, still shocked. Waiting for her to continue the story. "Oh, where were we again? Uhh. . . Yeah your mom, your dad and your cousins." She sighs heavily. "But let's just talk about your mom and dad first. Oh this story will take forever!" she continued, and took another bite of fruit berries I don't know the name of. "I dare you to tell her the stories in one week," Grandpa says finishing to drink his coffee.

Her Stalker is a stalker-age-gap dark romance not recommended for those under 17. Triggers include extreme sexual content, voyeurism, profanity, and dark themes. *Read at your own discretion. This story is about a stalker's love and determination for the girl he set his sights on a long time ago. Brixton started watching Harley, or his little bird when she was starting high school, and she never had a clue... But what happens when his secret is revealed?

She whispered again and I replied to her with a simple yes while awkwardly hugging her, trying not to give out our conversation to the man with the gun sitting behind the wheel, in front of us. Minutes later we arrived at an abandoned warehousing complex, he parked the car and told us to get out. But before I even get out Jill pretend to trip and out of nowhere pulled a knife and stabbed the guy to his gut. He didn't see it coming and he slumped to his back his head hit the cement hard. The stalker barely had time to point his gun at Jill, I know should've lain low but my body went still.

There was one solitary, big book on a low table between them. "The title of the tale is The Binding of Autumn," he began, his voice an entrancing whisper just in harmony with the shriek of the fire. “It's the tale of a harvest god who offers a mortal woman a choice: one night of absolute freedom for one year of unimaginable riches for her people." He didn't move as his eyes met hers. "The consent is the matter at hand. It must be freely bestowed, not coerced, and whispered three times into the skin of his throat." “Do you have any idea what sort of story you're going to be reading me tonight?”