The Most Disturbing Books Ever Written นิยาย & เรื่องราว

Feeling my body tremble with both anger and sorrow. "Every one of those poor little guys died.... How could anyone do that? How could anyone treat their own mate like that? What the hell kind of book was that, that there were pictures like that in there? Who would take pictures of them in that condition just to stick them in a damn book?" I asked. "It's an educational book for doctors. They were educational pictures to show doctors what severely neglected omegas in heat looked like." I sat there staring at the book that was laying on the ground for a few moments until we heard a loud thump come from the bedroom where our own sweet little Omega is sleeping.

Till it happened to me. *Everyone of us is a book of blood, whenever we are opened, we are red. The world outside had its own rules and those rules weren't human. *when there is no more room in hell, the dead will walk the earth. The monsters that rose from the dead, they are nothing compared to the ones we carry in our hearts. *sometimes the things in our heads are far worse than anything they could put in books. The greatest trick the devil pulled was deceiving the world there was only one of him.

Olson Embers: A Collection of Dark Fiction by Kenneth W. Cain Visions of the Mutant Rain Forest, by Bruce Boston and Robert Frazier Tribulations by Richard Thomas Eidolon Avenue: The First Feast by Jonathan Winn Flowers in a Dumpster by Mark Allan Gunnells The Dark at the End of the Tunnel by Taylor Grant Through a Mirror, Darkly by Kevin Lucia Things Slip Through by Kevin Lucia Where You Live by Gary McMahon Tricks, Mischief and Mayhem by Daniel I. Russell

no, I arranged his bed again that I had scattered, cause no matter how mad I was for burning my project up, I still didn't wanted any fucking trouble when he was back, so that he wouldn't kill me out of anger for messing with his stuff, but as soon as am about to quietly return back to my own lane to wait innocently, and yell at that dickhead when he was back about why on earth he burnt my project up, my curious eyes, yes, the same eyes that would make him kill me, drifted to the side, and I see a black book placed perfectly on the side of his bed "I didn't even know he had something like this, but it must have fell from under his pillow" I told myself as I picked it up to return it back to

The morning light filtered weakly through the curtains, casting fractured patterns on the floor — much like my thoughts, splintered and jagged. I sat at the small kitchen table, clutching my cup of cold coffee, staring at the leather-bound book *Reflections of the Forgotten* open before me. The stories inside weren’t just tales — they were warnings, lessons written in sorrow and hope. Women who had lived as shadows, trapped in lives borrowed from others, fighting to reclaim their own reflections.

Silence presses against me from all sides, heavy, almost tangible. I pull out my phone, using its screen to illuminate the titles. Some books focus on modern criminology, while others delve into antiquated practices—diseases of the mind now considered normal, but once subjected people to unimaginable cruelty. Torture, isolation, lobotomies—just reading the pages makes my stomach twist. I can’t imagine how many people suffered in the name of “study” and “science.” A vibration breaks my focus. My phone lights up with a message from Delilah:

I had to believe they were doing it for a good reason. I walk further into the room and see a row of red leather books all along the back wall on shelves. I rip a book from the shelf, flipping through the pages; every spell in here is black magic. I grab another book and another. They are all full of black magic, words of evil, each book darker and darker. I flip to a page that says “removing souls, the patient must endure months of torture to separate the soul from the body.” I stare at the page in disbelief. Is this what they are doing down here?

I muttered as I ran toward my chambers, driven by a strange pull, a gut feeling that something was there waiting for me. In my room, I scanned my surroundings, something drawing me to a concealed compartment behind my bookshelf. I opened it, finding a small, worn book—a diary. My heart sank as I opened it, the words inside telling a dark, familiar story. This wasn’t just any diary; this was Luna Nora’s collection of secrets, a meticulous record of every vile act, every betrayal. The curses, the deaths, the machinations that had torn my family apart—it was all here.

I whispered. A fresh wave of nausea hit, memories pushing like claws against the walls of my mind, shadows of a past life I had spent years trying to understand. This book...This book was the answer. This was the ritual Darren used to kill me, to kill my baby, to take power for himself.

she gives me a warm smile and just shakes her head before she nods and turns back to placing the books on the shelves. I quickly come across a book on bonds, but it takes me ages to find one about demons. I search through every book and shelf until, finally, at the very top, I spot a small, extremely dusty book. Although it doesn’t explicitly say “demons,” its title, “Monsters of Our World,” is the closest I can find.