Written Horror Stories Novels & Stories

"Tell him whatever you think it is best 'cause I won't be showing up. If 'she is asleep' that comes to your mind, say it. Or 'she don't wanna come' it is fine by me, 'she doesn't want to see you' whichever way. I am not just coming." "Okay then." "Thank you as you do so," I plugged my earpiece, then laid back on bed. "Goodnight." **** (No! Whimpering! Darkness! Fire! Tears!) Noo! Not again! I pressed my back against the wall, folded up a leg, then I dug my finger into my hair. This is beyond me mum, dad! I can't handle this all alone. What is the secret behind this nightmare? *** The shadow was moving closer. It was following me all over again. This couldn't be Brad. That was not Brad. So wh

box-sizing: border-box; max-width: 100%; outline: 0px; border-width: 0px; border-style: initial; vertical-align: bottom;"> Up until the 20th century, many people believed vampire stories were true. Across cultures and continents, the powers of vampire-like ghouls were blamed for phenomena that there weren't yet medical explanations for, such as the spread of disease during the Middle Ages or what happens to the human body after death.RELATED STORIESLet's Have a Vampire Movie Marathon, Shall We?The Spookiest Ghost Stories29 Best Vampire Books That Aren't 'Twillight'

They were fiction to humans, but all too real for people like Haydon and I. Slowly I skimmed the pages in one of the books and became fully aware of how much hatred vampire hunters had towards vampires. However, I realised that this was true mostly for the older generation. The generation my mom belonged to. Slowly I put the book down and headed to Haydon's bed where I sank gently into the duvets. Slowly I drifted off into a dreamless sleep, loving the potent scent of him. I was in an absolute state of peace when all of a sudden, I heard screams of agony coming from the room next door.

“The World of the Unknown. A book to die for.” My mother used to tell me stories of Vampires, Werewolves, Demons, the Orramoths, and the worst of them all, the Darklings. Most of the creatures she told me they blew out of proportion. She said writers did this to make a dollar or two, and some did it to scare the shit out of their kids and make them listen. My aunt would laugh because she said that I was a different breed than most. The minute I heard about them, I buried my head deeper into books with excitement. Little did she know I also discovered Daddy’s old box in the attic, and ‘The World of the Unknown’ was in it.

The sight before Lisa was both haunting and macabre. Two lifeless bodies lay sprawled on the forest floor, their contorted forms telling a tale of violence and death. The stench of decay hung heavily in the air, assaulting her senses and intensifying her feelings of horror and disgust. She approached cautiously, her steps hesitant, unwilling to disturb the grim tableau before her. The moon's feeble light cast eerie shadows, painting a ghastly portrait of the lifeless figures. Lisa's heart raced, her mind racing to comprehend the ghastly scene unfolding before her eyes.

by the time the sun shimmers at the horizon behind me and the crescent moon dips below the horizon before me, I have thought of every word I know of to describe really, really, really boring walking. There is absolutely nothing here. I think of the stories we told each other when we were pups. About wraiths that lived beneath the sand of the Barren that would pull you down into their nests. They would paralyze you and then their grubs would feed off you, slowly eating you alive. That was a favorite. There are the roaming packs of wilder-scorpions, creatures that are half beast, half scorpion. Where the beast's tail should be is a scorpion's sting that will cause your skin to turn black and t

Anyway, he kept saying that there are horrible creatures that lurk in the darkness here… While growing up he told me the story of the time when he was ten years old, his dog ran out of his family home—this townhome, the home I’m just about my home until my dad gets out of jail and the social worker says I can go back. He goes on and says that he watched his dog die that night being eaten alive by a wolf-like humanoid that he himself barely made it back home to safety. Then there were these stories of the locals being blood-sucking vampires and all the BS surrounding that subject. Oh and the witches of the forest and the great lake—supposedly they lure pregnant women to their deaths and drown

Looked like Loren had gotten carried away, Ria thought. "You know, of all the ghosts, the most dangerous are the ones that carry grudges and regrets…" Loren rambled on again. Ria started to think that Loren liked horror topics like this. "What do you mean?" Ria responded while reading through some of the articles she found earlier. “I have a story that my mother firsthand experienced. She once rented an old house that was haunted by a spirit full of regret and anger that almost brought her to an terrible accident…” Loren had already started preparing her story when Ria noticed that the clock already indicated that their next class was about to start.

"The perimeter is leaking, and the undead have already found the seam. Clear the courtyard in two days. Every single one." A chill ran down my spine as I remembered the old northern stories—rotting jaws still snapping long after their legs had been severed, hollow bodies that kept tearing and feeding with no scent and no pain. They never stopped. I swallowed the fear rising in my throat and lifted my chin. "Fine. Give me the weapon."

I hope I do not end up screaming so loudly that my baby decides to make an early entrance into the world. I have always preferred romance novels over any other genre. There is something comforting about them, even if they do not always reflect reality. Horror, on the other hand, fills me with dread. It gives me a wild imagination, and I often end up with nightmares after reading or watching anything scary. I remember the times in school when my roommates would roll their eyes at me during horror movies because I could not stop screaming. Eventually, they would kick me out of the room, and I would miss the rest of the movie. The memory makes me giggle, though it is tinged with a hint of nosta