An aspiring writer with a love for the occult and everything gothic. I am currently writing a novella called Monsters and I write new chapters for the story every week.
Monsters: Chapter 5
The darkness was only broken by the beams of moonlight that shone through the thickness of trees above, Curtis stepping out from the shadows, the gleam of his slick leather jacket reflecting the nightly rays and making him glow somewhat in the quietness of night.
Monsters: Chapter 4
Terry sat in the confines of a large bush, watching patiently for any sign of inhabitants within the Roswell House at the end of the street. Beside the bush lay the red bike Alex had gotten Terry last Christmas, tucked away secretively behind a large tree stump.
Monsters: Chapter 3
It was quarter to twelve by the time Gregory had locked the heavy iron doors to the steel mill, behind him now only a strong silence that rang out like the strange knell of a bell. It was always eerie when he had to lock up, as the mill was always a buzz of large bangs and a constant thrumming of smelting machines that filled the ears from dusk until dawn. Now the silence was almost alien to him. It was the first silence he had heard in almost ten hours since his shift started at mid-day.
Monsters: Chapter 2
The rain drummed heavily against the windshield of the large truck that sped down the country lane, the heavy droplets echoing within the vehicle and filling Curtis’ ears with an unrelenting cacophony. He had been warned by his sister before he left that a storm was coming through Washington from the Pacific, but he did not realise the magnitude, and now wished he had waited until the following morning for it to pass. His journey across state had been delayed multiple times due to road closures and flood warnings, causing him to detour through long and dubious country roads that had caused his shoulders to stiffen and his body to slump.
Monsters: Chapter 1
The clock on the mantlepiece clicked quietly in the background as the flicker of the television screen filled the dark room with brightly coloured light. The floor was like that of a landscape in the late evening as the sun began to set, mounds of blankets like rolling hills, their occupants unmoving and fast asleep. The only thing in the room that moved was a tall boy, who sat on the edge of the sofa, enamoured by the movie he intently watched.
The Horrors of Faith
“Run Bishop, it makes no difference to me. I will still get my feast before the night is over.” The evil voice called, echoing down the cavernous corridors of the cathedral.
What Lies Within
The house sat silent in the dusk light, the hot day now having fizzled to a dark orange hew in the night sky and darkening into a deep purple along the horizon. The house was baron and deserted, its windows long since shattered and its roof sagging with decay and rot.