monster
Monsters and horror go hand in hand; explore horrific creatures, beasts and hairy scaries like Freddy Krueger, Frankenstein and far beyond.
No Escape
Dark red rivulets of blood poured from the gaping wound on her arm. She clutched at it, trying to quelch the flow. It soon became apparent, however, that there would be no time to nurse the gash.They were coming upon her fast, and she had to get away before she would get injured even more, or worse, killed. The sound of thousands of ear splitting screeches in the distance was more than enough to signal her grand escape from the bloodthirsty monstrosities. She groped for the gun attached to her belt. When it was finally in her hand, safety off, she turned tail and ran for the cover of the forest. There it would be harder for the demons to find her. Her wound proved to be too great for her to retain her stamina, and as she limped forward she could hear the creatures gaining on her at an accelerating rate. She found a bush to crouch behind in an attempt to elude the ghastly creatures.
By Laurel Mayfield6 years ago in Horror
Weeping Woods
Gavin Monroe’s hair stood on the back of his neck, he stared face to face with the Weeping Woods. He searches the mark on the pillar just outside the forest tree line, the woods are restricted. The elders say the land is cursed, a work of spirited evil. As stories go, not many who enter make it out.
By Adrean W. Blevins6 years ago in Horror
Pulsing In Exodus
The city would die—the flesh charred from the bones, leaving the empire nominally alive. This was the nightmare-scape I lived through. I witnessed the death of that emaciated carcass and fled from the collapse of this giant’s frame. We fled on the great artery with the stubborn ghost hanging over our heads. We fled with our lives in our arms, leaving everything else behind to moulder in the maggoty ashes.
By Alexander Stover6 years ago in Horror
Crying in the Night
I growled as the bawling cut across my dreams. This was my third night in the box, and I was getting tired of being woken up by the loud crying from somewhere in the Quad. The inmate spent his days in almost abject silence, no one stopping at his cell with mail or call-outs. I never saw them come out for showers, and I don't even think I'd seen them get a tray during meals. All they really did was cry at night and keep the whole block awake.
By Joshua Campbell6 years ago in Horror
Royal Blood Part 3
Royal Blood Part 3: “Well aren't we lucky that the servants were so kind as to replace the curtains I tore down the night before last, is it time to take them down again?” Izabella says as she throws open the curtains, rudely waking Raven and Andrea. The pair fell asleep sideways on the bed, their legs hanging as they lay on top of the covers. It is clear to see they were extremely tired when they went to bed the night before.
By Monique Rowan6 years ago in Horror
Mr. Banker
Tom held a piece of information so valuable it kept him alive. He had worked for Renaissance City Bank for fifteen years, starting as an intern in college and working his way up to bank manager. Not once in those fifteen years had he ever been robbed, much less held at gunpoint. That changed in an instant. He was now on the lobby floor looking up the barrel of a shotgun, and the grimy man on the other end was in no mood to waste time.
By Turner Aday6 years ago in Horror
Eggs
After completing seven food deliveries, I went home. I entered my apartment and every time felt a sense of emptiness. Not because I was lonely but because my jerk of a roommate took his furniture and moved back in with his parents. After an hour my phone started ringing, “Hey Oliver, how’s it going?”
By Ruben Ramos6 years ago in Horror
Monster Slayer and Box Boy
A grubby child maybe 13 or 14 sits on the wooden porch of a trailer home bruised and dejected, ravenous. He has been beaten by a drunken father for eating paint off of his bedroom wall. He is skinny and always hungry though he gets three square meals a day. He eats hair, dirt, paint, and sometimes nails or other bits of metal. His bizarre appetite has left him with an untreated case of tape worms. His hair is dirty, long in patches almost hiding the other patches, patches of raw scalp where the hair has been pulled from. He picks up a stick and begins to walk around the ugly desert that is his back yard. I say an ugly desert because this is not a desert of beautiful saguaro cactus, flitting wrens, and magical sunsets, instead it is a desert of illegal dumping, trailer meth labs, and acres of rusting junk some his fathers some not. The boy picks a few pieces of the remaining, sun faded paint, from the rickety splintered porch railing he stuffs them greedily into his mouth then picks up his stick and plods into the desert. In his mind’s eye he sees himself freed from the trappings of human hood. Wandering an alien landscape scorched and hateful. impossibly tall and gauntly thin where hands once were now dirty augmentations. There is a crude flame thrower on one stump and a forked spear on the other. Something moves a two headed Gila monster or maybe just a one headed rabbit. Lightning fast he stabs it, cremates it and wolfs it down, one back leg still kicking. Back on his ugly piece of earth, he spies a large brown pile something new and he begins to make his way toward it.
By Watson Brown6 years ago in Horror
