Very Scary Books Novels & Stories

A branch in its endless, gnarled roots. And then, the darkness fractured. Light. It was a flicker, a sudden flash of brightness that felt like fire on his skin. Ben’s eyes snapped open, and he gasped, pulling in air that tasted like ash. His body jerked with the instinct to flee, but there was nowhere to run. He was still on the cold ground, but the forest was no longer just an empty abyss. It was a labyrinth, a twisted landscape of trees with faces carved into their trunks, eyes staring out at him, watching, waiting.

My heart beats fast, and I feel a wetness between my legs that I can’t ignore. One gray afternoon, it was pouring rain outside. The library was dead empty. No one to bother me. I locked the front door early and turned the sign to closed. My hands were sweaty as I picked out my four favorite books from the back shelf. There was the pirate story with Captain Thorne, a tough guy who sails the seas and takes what he wants. Then the vampire book with Lord Draven, all dark and mysterious, with eyes that pull you in. Next, the cowboy tale with Buck, rough and ready from the wild west. And finally, the barbarian adventure with Garrick, a big brute who fights with his hands and conquers everything. E

Thane dragged, “you mean everything, right?” I could see his point. Everything here gave me the creeps and made me feel uncomfortable—everything down to the creepy fur rug that covered the floor of this study, or whatever she might have chosen to call this place. “How about these?” Thane asked, drawing my attention to a shelf full of creepy books and tomes. “Not that. Creepy, but not creepy enough,” I said. “I smell blood and death all over them,” he said. “Fun, but not what I’m looking for,” I replied.

He had always been frightened of the scary sculptures and the carvings on the two storey high shelves. He searched for hours but couldn't find any book related to the blood moon beast. He got tired an rested on one of the shelves and to his greatest surprise the shelf rolled inwards and he found himself in another room. Taz guessed the room had been unused for so many years, as everywhere was covered with Spider webs. Taz turn on a small torchlight which he had taken along with him before sneaking inside the sacred library.

After two days of high temperatures and intense boredom, he remembered the three books. Sam pulled out the one with the Mummy on the cover, because it looked the most innocuous. It was entitled the Ninth Pan Book of Horror Stories. He wasn’t the least bit prepared for what he found inside. The first three stories involved emasculation, murder and burning at the stake. In his fevered state Sam felt he was not only watching the characters’ suffering, he was experiencing it along with them. He flung the book at the wall and then hid it again, wishing he could burn it like Jinnot, the young girl in the third story who was burned alive.

“Were these any help, detective?” “I’m afraid not,” I said, defeated. I was in a bit of a daze after staring at projected newsprint on the dim screen. I leaned on the desk and looked around the building absentmindedly until my eyes finally settled on a small sign hanging on a table covered with a neat stack of books. “Warning: The Library is Not Responsible for Nightmares!” I read out loud, walking over to look at the books. Well-worn volumes with pink skulls grinning back at me from stickers on their spines. Dracula. Frankenstein. The Invisible Man.

After resting for a while, they walked around and saw a bookstore which they both agreed to enter. She was reading the back of Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen when Jacob asked her. “What do you say let’s read horror books? Like the ones we watched today?” “Eh? I’m scared. You go read first, then give me a summary, then I’ll decide. Haha!” “Roger!” as he picked The Dunwich Horror and Others by H.P. Lovecraft and IT by Stephen King. They finished book shopping, it was around three in the afternoon when Jacob invited her to go somewhere else.

The title sent shivers through me: 'Dark Powers, Secrets of the Werewolves'. I opened the book, and a strange glow emanated from the pages. I felt a sudden jolt, like a surge of electricity had passed through me. The room began to spin, and I fell to the ground, the book slipping from my grasp. As I struggled to get up, I heard the old woman's voice, urgent and worried. 'Ryker! Ryker, what's wrong?' She rushed into the room, her eyes scanning me frantically. Then her gaze fell upon the book, and her expression changed to one of alarm. 'Oh, no. You shouldn't have touched that.'

Elias pulled his hand away fast, leaving me aching and empty. I yanked my sweater down and pressed my back harder against the shelf, trying to steady my breathing. My heart hammered like it wanted out of my chest. “Stay right there, Lila,” he whispered. His voice was low, tense. I heard him move carefully through the dark, footsteps quiet on the tile. Another crash echoed from somewhere deeper in the stacks. Like something knocking over a small pile of books. I held my breath. Elias stopped moving.

She began. For the first time, fear flashed in Sandra's eyes. "Wh-- What is going on, Mena?" "Oh, it's nothing to be scared of, please trust me, okay?" She rushed to reassure her friend. "O-Okay." Sandra still looked unconvinced. "Good. Do you remember those novels you like to read? Those ones where men turn into werewolves, vampires, and all those kinds of stuff?" "You mean my paranormal books? How can I ever forget about them? I have two in my bag as we speak." She paused, "But, what has that got to do with anything?"