Sticky Notes Horror Story Novels & Stories

Linda screeches bringing her back from her world of musing. "I didn't hear anything sis. Please can you let me sleep now?" "Are you sure?" "I just said I didn't hear anything! Please leave me alone! I want to sleep!" "Ok ok, I'll take my leave now" Linda breathes and walks out not seeing the shattered wooden cup on the floor. That was close. Gosh! Antonia hums and goes back to sleep. "It just began. Soon our little seed will germinate and our enemies will be in our hands" a cold voice whispers at the chained male who was bleeding profusely from his ears, eyes, arms, and legs and kept dragging the chains hoping to let loose.

I reach forward and turn the box towards me in order to see exactly what has him so shook. At first I do not recognize what it is. The inside of the box is all stained by the blood that is coming out of the pink shaped organ laying inside of it. I slowly realize exactly what it is and the wheels in my brain piece together everything. There is a note taped on the top lid of the inside of the box. It is stained with blood as well but I reach for it and open it. It reads Here lies the tongue of the snitch. I pass the note to Scot as he reads it.

, he says, looking a little afraid but trying not to show it. 'Yes, it is so", I told him not breaking eye contact. He studies me for a minute then puts up his sadistic smile. "Okay then, you're dismissed". I turned around and headed back to headquarters. Wait, he didn't yell at me for talking back and was that fear I saw in his eyes. He just let me go so easily and I don't like it. Snow doesn't like it either. After informing everyone on the wait staff of what had happened, they shook their heads, and we all went back to work. Towards the end of the night, we had almost finished prepping most of the stuff we're going to cook tomorrow. We all say goodnight to each other and head to bed, know

They knew I enjoyed horror and crime thriller movies but also how easily spooked I could get. Reflecting on their mischievous antics from our childhood, I dismissed the notes as their handiwork. After all, using sticky notes to scare me was classic John behavior. Despite the lingering doubts, I refused to let their prank ruin my day. As I opened the closet door, I was met with yet another sticky note. With a resigned sigh, I peeled it off and read the message. “DON’T YOU DARE EXPOSE WHAT’S MINE. WARNING YOU LAST TIME.” The words on the note were ominous, but I couldn’t help but feel a sense of irritation mixed with disbelief. How could John and Zoey be so certain that I would follow their in

She had no idea when the night had ended or how she had even managed to get into bed. With a deep breath, Scarlett pulled herself to her feet and padded out of her bedroom, expecting to find the usual silence of an empty penthouse. As she walked into the living room, however, she noticed something on the counter: a tray of breakfast, a small bottle of medicine, and a folded note. Curious, she walked over and picked up the note, her eyes narrowing as she recognized Storm’s handwriting. "For the hangover. Don’t drink alone next time." Her lips twisted into a sarcastic smile as she read the note, crumpling it in her hand. ‘Always the knight in shining armor, aren’t you, Storm?’ she thought bitt

It was a scream the kind that summons every sleeping soul, begging it to awaken and witness the nightmare with her. She stumbled backward, clutching the curtain as if to draw it shut and shield her from the horrific image. But it was too late. The scene was etched in her memory: Sid, a lifeless doll, hanging in death, his head bowed, his blood soaking the seat and cascading down the stone passage like a river of hell.

Terrified of losing their jobs, those employees banded together to drive out the interns, using staged paranormal incidents to force them to quit. The fingerprint scanner failed because Zoe deleted the data. The freezing air came from remote-controlled cooling devices installed in the vents. Computer malfunctions were caused by embedded control programs. As for the elevator, they had bribed a junior member of the property staff. In my previous life, if I had resigned, I wouldn't have died. But Adam stopped me at every turn because he wanted my accidental death compensation. If I died in the elevator, both the company and property management would have paid out large sums.

A memory that refused to die. --- That night, I opened my notebook again. But this time, I didn’t draw Ethan. I drew the boy. Standing in front of the house. The blood dripping from the window. His eyes wide as he stared into the dark. And behind him… A shadow slowly crawling across the lawn. Getting closer. And closer. Until— knock knock A sound at my window. I turned slowly. But there was no one there. Just fog. And the drawing on my desk— The shadow had moved.

But before my fingers could even touch the metal, the door swung open on its own, slow and silent. It was pitch black inside. I couldn't see a thing. An icy chill spilled from the doorway. It carried the stench of old graves and rot. I stepped into the room, fumbling along the wall for a light switch. Suddenly, a little girl's shrill scream tore through the room. "Aaaaaah—!" A small, soaking wet figure with long, tangled hair lunged at me from the darkness! Her eyes were a dead, lifeless white. Her mouth was stretched wide in a horrifying shriek.

A small piece of paper, folded. I opened the window and grabbed it. My hands shook as I unfolded it. Another drawing. Same style. A house. Trees. A sun. But this time, the four stick figures weren't holding hands. They were inside the house. And outside, by the window, a fifth stick figure. Watching. At the bottom, in the same messy crayon: **I'm still here.** --- I don't remember running to get Louis. I just remember him being there, reading the note, his face getting harder and harder.