Suspense Short Story Novels & Stories

Susan had a dream that night. She dreamt about what had happened on the road outside the cafe that day. Cindy was covered with blood and lying in a pool of blood. Susan stood at the door of the cafe and watched her struggle in pain with her gloomy eyes. She watched the blood drain from Cindy’s body, and she felt pleased with the sight.

The book gets dreadful and as much as I hate suspense; I have to read my way through and I am almost out of the woods with the suspense when I hear a knock on my door. I go into freeze mode as I make sure that the knock I just heard isn’t a hallucination or the roaring thunder, but an actual knock. The knock comes again, this time harder, but slower in pace, and I scramble out of the couch and fall face down to the tiled floor, still wrapped in the blanket. I struggle and I get myself free from the blanket and I run to the kitchen and grab a knife from the counter before running back out. I come to the door and I open it, but I see no one at the door as I lift my eyes I see a figure in a bro

These are the questions a bookstore owner face when a mysterious book shows up. Samurai and Other Stories by William Meikle—No one can handle Scottish folklore with elements of the darkest horror, science fiction and fantasy, suspense and adventure like William Meikle. The Dark at the End of the Tunnel by Taylor Grant—Offered for the first time in a collected format, this selection features ten gripping and darkly imaginative stories by Taylor Grant, a Bram Stoker Award® nominated author and rising star in the suspense and horror genres. Grant exposes the terrors that hide beneath the surface of our ordinary world, behind people’s masks of normalcy, and lurking in the shadows at the farthest

When I stopped, I was breathless. "I think I'm broken," I whispered. "No," he finally said. "You're not broken. You're human. But you are... dangerous." "Dangerous?" "To him. To anyone lucky enough to haunt your dreams." The booth felt too small. Too warm. My fingers curled around the edge of the seat. He leaned closer. Shadows moved behind the screen. "Would you come back next week?" "Why?" "Because I want to hear more. I want to know what happens next."

BEFORE YOU READ You have ten seconds to run. Tropes: Forced proximity, size difference, breeding kink, and primal chase play. This story features a fugitive criminal fueled by adrenaline and testosterone invading your safe space. Expect dirty talk, roughness, and intense possessiveness. (***) Belle I never should have opened the door to fear. Or maybe, deep down, I was always waiting for it.

Someone was standing there. At first, I couldn't see clearly. Everything was blurry. The figure began walking toward me. My heart skipped. He was moving quickly. Forcefully. As though he had been waiting for something. Waiting for me. I watched in confusion as he began removing his clothes. The drunken haze in my mind slowly disappeared. Fear took its place. I moved backward across the bed. My entire body trembled. Why was he coming toward me? My breathing became uneven. I shook my head and moved farther back.

The suspense was unbearable, and she felt an irresistible pull towards the door. Summoning her courage, Rose tiptoed closer, her curiosity overpowering her initial reluctance. The pale moonlight cast elongated shadows across the room, emphasizing the sense of mystery that hung in the air. With bated breath, she gently pushed the door, allowing it to swing open silently.

That was a gift. She’ll want to know more. She’ll dig. And when she can’t find answers, she’ll turn suspicious. And suspicion turns affection into doubt faster than fire consumes dry leaves. I stood and brushed the dust from my trousers. This is how it begins. No clinic. No file. No trace. It’s his word against mine—and I’ve been in Havindelle a lot longer than he has. By the time I got back to my room, the candle on my desk was already burning low. I sat and opened my notebook, flipping to the page I had marked earlier.

People park. But then the vehicle didn’t move. Didn’t shift. Didn’t leave even when he did. He drove around the block. It followed. Not close enough to be obvious. Not far enough to be coincidence. A cold awareness crept into his bones. When he parked again near his apartment, the SUV slowed pausing just long enough to confirm its interest, then continued as if nothing happened. Liam’s pulse hammered painfully. Someone was watching him. Studying him. And he didn’t need supernatural intuition to know it had everything to do with the story that refused to die… and the truth someone desperately didn’t want him to reveal.

Who knew that amnesia would be the least of my problems? I got out of the elevator, walked through the house and when I got to the kitchen, I put the book on the worktop. I grabbed a bottle of sparkling water and a jar of hazelnut cream. I sat down to read a thriller. In the story, Vivian was shivering in her living room as the winds howled outside, the windows banging hard during the storm. Suddenly, the lights went out and she screamed in fright. The front door burst open and a grotesque figure with horns and an axe gleaming in the lightning emerged. I'm so immersed in suspense that when the kitchen door slams hard, I almost faint with fright. I turn quickly and find Dominique standing the