Written Horror Story Writing Novels & Stories

He said, looking at her, she didn't look frightened at all. "Have you been following me?" Megan asked. "No, what?" He said, snickering. "Follow you, no way, I..you know..umm..just out here trying to get some inspiration for a new horror book I want to write. You know, I realized I have flair for writing.. writing novels, horror novels." "Oh.. yeah, horror novels about werewolves.." Megan smiled. "I'm also researching and guess what, I found out werewolves live here, in this woods."

“After the accident I drank more, usually at night, so I could sleep. I didn’t write at all, not anything that mattered, anyway, because I was never sober. And that thing in the shadows was always waiting for me in my nightmares, or every time I closed my eyes. That and those damned whispers. You know after a while, I wrote those words down and Googled them. Want to know what they mean?” I shake my head because suddenly, I want this to be done. Gavin’s a great guy but I just want this to be done. My gut’s been squirming the whole time and even though I know these stories can’t be true, I can’t deny a feeling of instinctual dread about the other stories in this book, and what they’ll say. Bec

, but no words came out. The look of horror on his face remained unchanged. With an exasperated sigh, the girl twisted her neck around to look behind her. She screamed as a pair of rotting hands yanked her from the back of the truck. Vincent scrabbled backward across the metal truck bed, away from the gruesome monster that had grabbed his girlfriend. The thing’s face was a mass of sores and scabs, and its eyes bulged unnaturally out of an emaciated skull. One word formed in Vince’s brain as the creature’s teeth tore into the girl’s shoulder—zombie! Before he could process anything more, strong hands pulled him over the other side of the truck. An equally horrid face pressed close to his as s

Which is why I haven’t been using it ever since I started writing 1001 Dark Tales. Yes, I could have written it quicker, but 1001 Dark Tales are dark romance tales. I’m not ashamed of anything I write, but I would rather not act out the scenes with three males who I don’t even know their names or what they look like. I push those thoughts away as I put the quill down and grabbed my other manuscripts, leafing through them. Each of them was only partly done and would benefit from using the quill on them. Before I could pull one out, though, I heard a knock at my door.

The shadows moved with purpose—the workers, thirty strong, silent but ominous, creeping ever closer to the house. He closed the door, dragging a wooden table behind him like a crude barrier. His hands closed around the rusty fork, feeling a cold bite, then he dropped it to pick up the heavy hammer, testing its weight in his bloodied hands. A voice rang from behind the door: "Open up, you madman!" "Death is inevitable!" The driver's eyes widened, glowing faintly in the darkness like smoldering coals. He remained silent, defiant, watching the shadows outside. Suddenly, a window in a side room shattered. The workers began to climb in, one by one, their intentions clear and deadly. The driver st

“What are you waiting for? Do you need a bedtime story?” I chew back a smile. Settle against the headrest. “Why? Do you have any?” “Me?” “No— Weres. Us, I guess.” “Sure, but they’re bleak. Humans and Vampyres coming for us if we nip our teachers too hard. The gods of nature toying with their beastly children. Cosmic horror— that kind of shit.” “Wow. Do children like them?” “I didn’t. Had nightmares about them for years.” I nod slowly. “That explains it.”

“Once the Stalker knows your name, there’s no escaping it.” The silence after her story was deafening. No one dared to move, as if the smallest sound would summon the very thing she’d described. The bonfire crackled ominously, and I felt a shiver run down my spine, the eerie weight of the tale lingering far too long. The story settled over me like a weight, the dread thick and suffocating. A sharp image suddenly flashed through my mind—blood splattered against walls, guts and entrails spilling across the ground, and lifeless faces staring into the void.

*makes sobbing noises* Thank you for your time and patience and for diving into the world of werewolf stories that I created, where sometimes it’s best to accept that not all love deserves a second chance (or a third). Just like the common saying that says "The grass is greener on the other side", in my werewolf stories collection you can also find that sometimes, the moon is brighter on the other side—and that pertains to the idea that a brighter future can be found in someone else’s eyes. Anyway, keep reading more books (even if it’s not mine). Also, if you’d like to read a sneak peek of my next werewolf romance fantasy collection, just scroll down.

Birdy nodded in agreement, "It is time for the ghost stories to begin and be spread. Stories of a pack of wolves that live nowhere but everywhere, who rescue the weak, broken, and unchampioned, taking those they rescue away with them and disappearing with no clues to who they are or where they came from." ​Three gods and one vampire nodded in agreement. "Let the fun begin. Go lay the groundwork to make the stories true when our wolves awake," Hyperion ordered. ​Cronos snickered, "This is going to be so much fun. I am glad Gaia is letting me loose to help lend credence to the stories." ​"What good are the stories without those needed to make them come true?" Bob wondered out loud.

You could say that there are no ghosts in the world, and I could agree with you, but some people said that there are no werewolves in the world and we know for sure that they are, so… never say never. “I hate this place,” Sam said and looked around. “So many stories , horror stories that I get goosebumps just thinkin' about it.” “ I chose this place exactly for that. Because we all hate this place and it is the last place where Manganiello would think that we will come.”