Thriller Horror Novels & Stories

I was in the wrong game? This was a horror game, not an otome romance? In just a few seconds, every strange detail suddenly made sense.

" I stayed silent, but that did not deter them. They started ramming the door. I pressed my back against it, looking at my unconscious mother in the bedroom, and closed my eyes. A living hell on earth was worse than any horror game. When humans start killing each other, they were more terrifying than monsters. ... Meanwhile, a group of bosses gathered in the empty supermarket, staring at each other in confusion. "Uhm, where's Ms Thrushwood?" one of them asked. "She's always punctual. Even on restock days when the shop's closed, she tells us ahead of time," another commented.

Her fingers bumped something metallic, half-buried beneath a collapsed plank of wood. She tugged gently, uncovering a small, rusty tin. Her heartbeat spiked excitedly. Inside, wrapped in what looked like satin, was a flash drive… and a folded note bearing yet another cryptic message: Truth has teeth. Bite before it bites you. —M. She clutched it tightly, her hands shaking as she stood and hurried quietly back through the tunnels to her room. ************************************************** When Sergio found her in the study half an hour later, she didn’t even glance up. The screen in front of her glowed faintly in the dark room.

This book includes the following: - Vulgar language - Violence - Sexual acts - Gore - Trigger words Please read with caution as this book is rated 18+ and must be read with caution. If you feel uneasy, please do not go on. You have been warned! This horror/thriller book has twists and turns; the main character is out to find the truth behind the events and will do anything to get to the bottom of it. Will she achieve her goal or become a pawn in his sick world?

Cynthia says in a very low voice, leaning a little towards me. “Listen!” Lara shoots him a disapproving look. “This I have not seen. The one I saw was the first.” She fixes her eyes on the screen again. “But what the fuck are you doing?” Again she spits words at the television. “No. I can't handle this. The black, the Asian and the blonde have died, the next is going to be the nerd. Fuck! It's always the same with these ridiculous "horror" movies,” drawing the quotes in the air. “I do not understand. If you don't like these movies, why do you keep watching them?” Cynthia rolls her eyes in notable annoyance.

All the leaves were bleeding profusely and following the direction of the slurring lines of blood, it rained on some pale skulls littering around the spooky ground. The creepy skulls gave me goosebumps and when I heard a thunderstorm struck against my roof, I almost jumped out of my skin as I visualized myself standing there in the forest. Yes The air was stuffy, making it difficult for me to breathe. The trees were staring at me like silent sentries. My heart was throbbing in my ears and in an attempt to get rid of the terror, I bit my lower lips till I felt the metallic taste of blood in my mouth which brought me back to life. Jeez this is why I don't watch horror movies, I mean if I could

“Of course. Very serious work.” He passed her the soda. His fingers brushed hers. A little spark—not magical, just human—ran up her arm. The lights dimmed further as yet another trailer started, this one for something involving a haunted house, a mismatched group of friends, and a lot of stylish screaming. “Do you want to skip this one?” he asked quietly. “We can close our eyes and pretend it’s an insurance commercial.” “I write horror,” she said. “I can handle a trailer.”

He shakes his head and blubbers, “I don’t know what you want me to say.” I grab him between the legs, seeing nothing but a slideshow of Lena’s torment on repeat. I could saw off my own fingers, and I’d hardly notice.They’re hurting her. Scaring her. Making her cry. The blade cuts through skin and muscle, eliciting a scream that horror movies can’t imitate. That sound can only be born from the type of horror very few humans actually experience. It sounds like music. Is it the same sound Lena is making? Blood spurts, painting Ra and me in crimson. He sucks in a deep breath, preparing to let loose another scream no one else will ever hear, but then he passes out.

These actions cannot be explained, Navpreet,’ said the inspector gloomily, casting an eye on the mountains. The sub-inspector gave a stiff nod and carefully studied the inspector who seemed to be lost in contemplation. ‘From what I have seen, murders are of two types,’ said the inspector, the tips of his fingers coming together. ‘First are the unplanned ones, committed by people who were suffocated in some way by the acts of the would-be victims. When they see an opportunity, their fear is eclipsed by the pain they have suffered and they strike.’

Those books were older than any of the others in his office. The bottom shelf (the one he’d been searching when he’d first heard the cats playing in the hall) held his collection of horror anthologies. The famed Whispers series, edited by Stuart David Schiff, featuring the varied works of Ramsey Campbell, Stephen King, Charles Grant and so many others. The Mammoth Book of Best New Horror from England. The Shivers series, published by Cemetery Dance. Masques, Borderlands, Shadows, Stalkers, Dark Forces, October Dreams I & II, Corpse Blossoms, Horror Library Volumes 1-5, and Prime Evil. Classic horror anthologies jammed next to paperback collections of slightly lesser repute with titles to mat