Suspense Short Story Novels & Stories

she asked briskly. Susan and Dena looked at her. “They just got into their cars,” Dena said. “Why?” “One of the cars is going to blow up,” Hannah said. “I don’t know how I know, but I just know.” Susan didn’t wait for another second to waste, she was out of the house in a flash, distancing both Beatrice and Jake from their cars in the pause of time, she moved to touch Beatrice, and Jake’s car, she returned into the house to stand by the window with Dena, time unfroze, Jake’s car exploded.

Bored surfing through the internet,I reside reading an online story written by my greatest and favourite author, Elvis Asiwe. He's stories generally are dope,they appear outstanding and unique, having great plots, outlines, intriguing characters and unexpected twists. Reading his stories frequently soots anxiety and worries, bestowing long lasting peace of mind within me and like earlier mentioned,him likewise his stories are both dope and the best. I thought. Deeply engrossed reading through his current ongoing intriguing and suspense filled novel,Alex devious sneaking in was taken unnoticed by me, not until loud screening screams evolved her lips, taking me aback in shock.

I thought about what had happened before, it was almost impossible to clearly perceive the events that were taking place. If I just looked at everything like I was watching a movie or reading a book, I would think it was fascinating. But to live in it, in the flesh…how terrifying I think that is. Almost so. Just thinking about it made my heart beat harder and faster in my chest, but this time was different than before. Moreover, I also have a feeling of heaviness, slackness, almost tingling in the abdomen. It reminds me of the feeling I had when I was a kid, playing hide and seek in the dark. I don't want to be caught, but just sitting there wondering if I'll be found is both exciting and sc

In 1983 a Mrs Carson of New York was laid out in our coffin, presumed dead of hear disease. As mourners watched, she suddenly sat up, alive as you or I. Unfortunately her daughter dropped dead of fright on the spot. 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. You can send me your short stories for a feature if you feel like it. Thanks for reading. Enjoy!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.

Each name sank deeper, sending waves of doubt and terror—waves that never ended. Susan and the blank sheet of paper— Night began to weigh heavily on the city, sweeping away a long, unsettling silence. The streets below her apartment seemed deserted, save for a few cars passing intermittently, as if fleeing some unknown fate. The building where journalist Suzanne lived wasn't much different from other modern buildings in Cairo, but this night held something unusual. Her heart pounded with questions, her head heavy with the tangle of crimes, faces, and names.

My heart raced as I sat up, straining to hear. "Rowan," I whispered, slipping out of bed and tiptoeing into the living room. He was already on alert, his body tense as he peered out the window. He held a gun in one hand, his finger resting just above the trigger. "What is it?" I asked, my voice barely audible. "Stay back," he said, his gaze fixed on the darkness outside. The seconds stretched into an eternity as we waited, every nerve in my body screaming for me to do something. And then, just as I thought my heart might give out from the suspense, the door exploded inward with a deafening crash.

Her impatience echoed through the room, prompting a brief pause in the strained conversation. As the conversation shifted, an unsettling feeling settled over me. Despite the apparent calm, I couldn't shake the sense that something ominous lingered beneath the surface. Little did I know, this seemingly normal lunch was just the calm before the storm, and the secrets hidden within the walls of this mansion were about to be unleashed, plunging me into a world of danger and deception...

The cool night air brushes over my skin as I lean my body closer to the stone wall, scarcely daring to breathe. My heart thunders in my chest, the suspense is excruciating. I bend closer, careful not to make a sound, attempting to hear any more of the exchange between Greta and the spy. For a minute, there’s quiet. I’m holding my breath, waiting for something.....anything....that will give me an indication to who it is. Greta stands aside, and in that one, horrifying second, my world falls.

Arriving home, the silence enveloped me like a thick fog, amplifying my sense of dread. The kettle's gentle whistle broke the stillness, but before I could pour my tea, a faint rustle drew my attention to the living room. Cautiously, I approached to find a note on the coffee table, its unfamiliar handwriting sending a chill down my spine. "Meet me at the coffee shop on 5th street at 7 p.m. Come alone." The urgency of the message ignited a mix of fear and intrigue within me. Who was this person, and what did they know? Time was slipping away, and with only thirty minutes to decide, the weight of the unknown pressed heavily on my shoulders. I felt an undeniable pull to uncover the truth, even

The device isn’t ideal for writing, but it’s what I have at hand right now. I start typing a few lines, creating a setting: a deserted street, a low fog, cobblestone pavement lit only by a solitary lamppost. It’s the beginning of a suspense story, still uncertain, but it’s a start. I lose myself in the words, in the imagined sounds of footsteps echoing in the silence, in the unknown figure lurking in the shadows. “What are you doing?” Alexander’s voice startles me, soft, still hoarse from sleep.