The Horror Story Novels & Stories

She kissed Cameron goodnight three times before he finally shooed her out of his room, and she was left alone in the living room, holding the remote. As she pulled her laptop on top of her legs, Sidney had the immediate urge to draft an article about her little taste of horror in real life. She could feel herself typing the words before the embarrassment seized her again. She didn’t want to tell people what had happened, either time. The story tasted as bitter and felt as deformed and unnatural on her tongue as the times she had to explain the dissolution of her marriage. Something about the details of her own scare made her feel inexplicably insecure in her love of horror. She figured a mov

The next second, the Patchwork Monster tore the man in half. He tossed the body outside casually. Just then, a crisp, bell-like voice sounded outside. “It’s after work hours, who’s so rude as to be throwing bodies around?” A young girl with three heads and eight arms appeared at the doorway. With just one look at the shop, anger filled her voice, and her hair stood on end. “Who the hell had a death wish and smashed the Number One Must-Eat shop in the entire horror game?”

If a werewolf had killed or tasted blood, his eyes would turn red and the more blood he tasted, it was likely that his eyes would become brighter. That meant the creature behind me had probably consumed a fountain of it. “Where do you think you're going?” It finally spoke. Its voice sounded like a lonely, yet dep tune played by a lost soul wandering the woods at midnight when children and even adults were asked to not come out. A horror story told to children and most adults to scare them off their nightly adventure. “I said come back here”. I yelled at myself, pushing me out of my imagination. Along with its utterance, came a fast lounge at me. It nearly grabbed me by the collar but I was f

she commented. “Well… actually there is more…” I laughed feeling awkward about throwing everything on her at once. Fortunately, she was way to excited hearing about my quite supernatural stories to tell me to stop. I even thought she might have been memorizing my words for the sake of writing scenarios in the future. Unfortunately, there was nothing romantic about my last night's experience, it sounded more like a scene from a horror movie. I kept trembling even reminiscing those moments I was Immara.

“Sa piling kasi ng mahal nila, doon nila nahahanap ang kanilang sarili.” “Ah…” “Blue…” “Hmm…” “May tanong pa ako sa’yo.” “Inatake na naman ang curiosity mo. Ako naman ang magtatanong sa’yo. Kung isasapeikula ang buhay natin, ano kaya ang magiging genre?” “Hmm… Romance?” “Mali.” “Eh ano?” “Horror. Ikaw ba naman may kasamang sleepwalker na tumatawa na parang mangkukulam gabi-gabi.”

You guys are the best! Another thing... I am thinking of changing the title and the cover of my story so it will look more of horror-romace than pure horror. What do you think? What do you think can boost my views? Your contributions are appreciated.

This story has a lot of heartbreak; from Jennifer getting betrayed by Terrance, Terrance getting tortured by Jennifer, Jennifer reliving the nightmares she experienced with her father, and a lot more. This story is also for Horror and Romance fans. I wanted to blend the two genres together to create a modern day tragic love story. It looks like both the Horror and Romance fans are appreciating the story. People are loving the romance more than the horror, but the horror is getting some love as well.

It was late autumn when they arrived — the trees skeletal, the air thick with a kind of oppressive stillness that seemed to hum beneath the surface of the world. Emily Carter, a graduate student in folklore and urban legends, had heard the whispers about WildWood all her life. She had grown up just a few towns over and had spent years gathering the old stories: tales of the “vanishing patients,” the “howling trees,” and the “night doctors” said to stalk the forest paths. Determined to separate fact from myth, Emily organized an expedition for her thesis, enlisting a few brave companions:

He pauses before continuing with that slithering accent like something you would hear in a horror story or someplace in the darkest parts of Europe, “Have you ever wondered if the things that go bump in the night really exist? Or if they are a figment of your imagination?” Getting more creeped out by the second, I keep staring at him and then find that I can speak again. Before I utter an answer, I raise my hand up to my forehead and wipe a strand of my blonde hair out of my eyes so I can concentrate. “Sure, I have always been intrigued by the forces of darkness, but do they really exist as they do in my novels and dreams?”

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.