Text Stories Scary Mga Nobela at Kwento

Epilogue: Now that I have written several of these stories, I find that my old ghosts have started to haunt my dreams yet again. It is amazing that once things are written down, they begin to take on a life of their own. Just remember, if you don’t want things to go bump in the night, don’t tell anyone else about them.

He brushes his fingers down my cheek, and a weird pulling feeling erupts inside my chest. "So young. So naive. My dear little mouse, they talked about how big of a monster I am. They made it sound as if all werewolves are just as horrid. The humans are afraid...and what do humans do when they are afraid? They kill, my sweet pet. They kill. Even though we have been living side by side for thousands of years...that won't matter because they are scared," Lucian says softly, and my cheeks blush at the gentle way he is speaking to me.

The university library was nearly empty at 9 PM on a Thursday, exactly how Mara preferred it. She'd claimed her usual spot in the back corner of the third floor, surrounded by towering shelves of forgotten literature that nobody bothered with anymore. Her psychology textbook lay open in front of her, but she'd read the same paragraph three times without absorbing a single word. The quiet was hypnotic. Just the distant hum of the heating system and the occasional whisper of pages turning somewhere far below. Then she heard footsteps.

I darted my eyes away quickly-- "You promised," Al said all of a sudden. "What?" I paused in surprise. "No question asked," Al smirked, holding out his hand to me. I was grateful that he didn't ask into it. Night fell. So the thing about horror stories is that-- The fear kicks in only at dark nights when you are alone, not when you are at the crowded theater or on the bright street. Meaning-- I couldn't fall asleep that night. Turns out it's a bit hard to fall asleep when you don't close your eyes because you feel the need to stare at everything with alert.

We started setting up tents and sleeping bags. A little after dark, we began roasting smores, laughing and telling stories. "Okay, I got a good one, the story of the swamp boogey monster." Trent said. "Heard it, it's not scary" Kayla dismissed. "I assure you its a certified scare alright" Trent bragged.

She teased. “Hush, child,” Aunt Liora said with a fond smile. “We’re just having a mother and daughter moment.” Lila peeked outside. “The wind’s wild mehn. The trees look like they’re trying to uproot themselves.” “I was going to make us tea,” Aunt Liora said, then paused. Her right hand cupping her chin “But maybe what we need is a good old-fashioned scary story.” I raised a brow. “Oh Really?”

But after all the goosebumps, 'twas just a tree. "Relax," she tangles her arm with mine, "those trees scare the intruders if any. A similitude of scarecrow." "Oh, but you're scared, too." "Of course! This forest is creepy! This is where the tears of our dead pack are preserved. Sometimes, those watch-wolves heard an agonizing howl in here." "Then there are ghosts here?" "That can't be!" I finally made a chuckle for the first time in a while. "That story is just a legend. It's a stupid creed to be true."

🥹❤️🌙 First of all, I just want to say a HUGE thank you to every single person who has opened Dark Tales of Midnight: A Collection of Taboo Stories and decided to take this journey with me. Honestly, seeing people read my stories, leave comments, react to chapters, and come back for more means SO much to me. 🥺💕 Every single view, comment, vote, and bit of support reminds me that all the time I spend creating these stories is worth it. ✍️📖💗

Marcus said, grabbing a marshmallow and sliding it onto a skewer, "if it's up to me, I'm going to stuff you with marshmallows and anything else you want." He waited until it was perfectly golden, then placed it in my mouth, watching with clear amusement as I tried to chew and smile at the same time. "And if it's scary stories you're missing," he added, his eyes glinting mischievously in the firelight, "I can start fixing that right now." Several people around the bonfire leaned in, clearly intrigued by the idea of a scary story. "Oh, hell no!" Mia protested immediately, jumping to her feet. "I'd rather go to bed early than listen to one of your horror stories, Marcus!"

“He doesn’t care about money. Or even winning. He just likes watching.” The room goes silent. A cold prickle runs down my spine. Around me, the others exchange glances, their postures shifting. No one speaks, but I can feel the unease settling like a thick fog. I try to keep my body loose and relaxed as I walk over to Scarlett, crouching beside her and gently tucking a loose curl behind her ear. Her small fingers clutch one of her stuffed animals, a well-loved unicorn with matted fur. “What do you mean, sweetheart?” I ask softly. “Who likes to watch what?” She shrugs, not looking up. “The man you’re talking about. He likes seeing what people do when they’re scared. He has a room where he mak