Urban Legend Stories Novels & Stories

Maya, from the wall, felt the room tilt. "Stories that were never meant to be tested," Cara continued, her voice careful. "But here we are." Alec's voice was a jagged blade. "She is not an urban legend." "Cara sighed. "The Rogues won't see it that way. They'll believe what they want to believe. And belief is as dangerous as truth." The fire flared, a sudden burst of orange light.

In her thought, "I must protect my sister this time. The bad guys are here again!" During those times when the Utopia is still united, an untold story scares every mortal child. It is a story that only the mortals know and their ill mother always tell them this, "Every night, when the moon has totally devoured the light of the sun, the beasts with fangs will hunt for their favorite flesh."

I didn’t know half the urban legends. “I hate to break it to you… All of them are real, except the tooth fairy, Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. They are not,” he said without cracking a smile. I burst out laughing, holding my stomach and letting it rip. “Oh…” I wiped tears out of my eyes. “You guys are good.” “Cassandra….” “How about a demonstration, Wolf man?” I wasn’t laughing anymore. “I’ll believe it if you turn right here and now, in front of me.” Let’s see if he would rise to the challenge.

“What aren’t you saying?” Lucien stared at the map for a long moment. Then finally spoke. “There were stories.” I immediately disliked where this was going. “What stories?” His eyes lifted. “When I was a child, my mentor told me a legend.” Ash groaned. “Oh great. The apocalypse has a backstory.” Nobody laughed. Lucien continued. “The first convergence divided history into two versions.” I frowned. “What does that mean?” “It means nobody agrees on what happened.” The answer made my headache worse. Kaelen folded his arms.

What can you tell me about the Night Terrors? He rolled his thin, lined lips in, seemed to debate with himself. "Tol'ko skazki. Nichego solidnogo. Eto byla gruppa zhivotnykh, poyavivshikhsya posle GULAGa. Pod nimi nichego ne bylo. Yesli rasskazy pravdivy, to vam nuzhno derzhat'sya ot nikh podal'she." Only stories. Nothing solid. They were a group of animals that emerged after the gulags. Nothing was beneath them. If the stories are true, then you need to stay far away from them.

She clung onto her royal mattress to her chest as her shivering lips could not stop shaking. "A werewolf" she muttered with widened eyes as the realization hit her. Slowly, the legendary story of the werewolf Mama Gunad always narrated came crawling into her mind. She gasped in shock as the story pieces started to assemble themselves together. Lilia eyes shone in awe, is that the legendary werewolf she has always heard right from childhood? "No" she muttered as she tried not to believe it. Werewolves aren't real, No! They are just folktales told to scare little children, nothing else. But the picture she saw back in the cave ran through her doubting thoughts.

- I saw a legend there that interests me, the legend of Avenum, maybe you heard about it? - Hmm Avenum, the werewolf student of Urgor, who wrote the teaching "The Truth Residing in Us" * of course heard. Are you interested in werewolf tales? The man with the glasses said with a grin. - Oh no, what are you, I'm looking for facts proving the real existence of such creatures. Conrod looked at the books the stranger had. - I see you also hit history. - The stranger, adjusting his glasses, examined his books.

Luca let out a warning growl to Cal. Cal didn’t like it but he pulled Becca beside him and whispered something in her ear. “In my time in the woods, I learned many things. One of which… the legends we grew up learning are partly true. There are creatures out there, just like she described. I know everyone has felt them. Especially if you live around here. All the stories of not whistling…. we all heard them.” Everyone nodded and looked at each other.

And the loudest warning of them all was; "Do not trust any friendly stranger with pretty eyes." It had been these way for decades, centuries even. Every single child in the town grew up hearing these stories. Unlike other cities where their bedtime stories centers on royal fantasies, and fairies, the bedtime stories they listened to was filled with horror. It was the stories of wolves with glowing eyes, and the shadowy figures that lured you into the trees, only for your screams to echo back hollow, and unanswered. Though the stories had believable theories, not everyone readily believed them. Some called them folklores wrapped in superstition. Some believed they were old stories, made up to

I heard once that fact is stranger than fiction, and even though I felt like I was in the middle of some sort of strange, surreal dream, the facts were all there. I’d met a man in the middle of the street in the dead of night. He’d just appeared out of nowhere. I’d taken him home, slept with him, and then woken up to his accusations that I was taking pills to hide my wolf. My mother corroborated his story and told me her back story. It was unbelievable on the surface—I mean, come on—but I had no choice but to believe it. Both stories lined up in an uncanny way. I could deny it all I wanted, but there had to be some truth to it.