Class Monsters Novels & Stories

But it was too soon. The doors slid open, and a man I didn't recognize stepped out. He was older, dressed in a charcoal suit that cost more than a year of my father’s salary. He carried a leather briefcase and moved with the silent, practiced grace of a shark. "Mrs. Blackwood," he said, his voice as smooth as polished stone. "My name is Silas Vane. I am the patriarch of the family Killian and Dominic so desperately tried to destroy." The Third Monster.

He didn't say a word, but he put his hand on the headboard of the bed—a silent promise. "Is the monster gone?" Leo asked, looking at Silas. Silas looked at me, then down at our son. "The monsters are in cages now, Leo. And we’re the ones with the keys.

That night, the doll suddenly activated. Its soft, stuffed arm shot straight into my throat. I jolted awake, clawing at my neck, trying to call for my mother, but no sound came out. By the next day, I had a raging fever and couldn't stop throwing up. I cried, trying to tell my mother what happened, but all that came out were broken, garbled sounds. She tossed me a pack of cold medicine. "If you can't even talk, then be quiet for once. I'm exhausted after work."

Her heart ached as Elizah turned her gaze out the window. "I’m sure the perpetrator wasn’t Liam. The police caught the wrong person, Julie. I don’t want to live like this. They let the real perpetrator walk free while Liam is imprisoned!" Elizah’s voice was heavy and filled with anger. Julie fully understood her sister’s feelings but could do nothing except try to calm her down. Julie fell silent, recalling something: "monsters." Yes, Elizah screamed "monsters," meaning there was more than one perpetrator. "Monsters. What do you mean by monsters? Did you feel there was more than one person?"

I crouched down to pick them up but I froze when I thought I saw someone at the corner of my eyes passing by the open door of the dining room. Peeking my head out from behind the counter, I looked towards the door and frowned when I saw no one. Maybe I imagined it? Confused, I stared at the door for a few more seconds before I looked back down at the grapes. This entire scenario felt very familiar. Chills ran down my spin as I recalled a thirteen year old me walking around the house at night, unaware of the monsters following me with their eyes. I shook my head as hard as I could to try and get the memory out of my head.

The monsters turned to it and broke down into laughter. “What's one wolf going to do against the both of us?” The monster asked in mockery. But the wolf was not just one wolf, one after the other monstrously huge wolves appeared out of nowhere, out of bushes, down from trees and the undergrowth. My father walked to the monsters, his limp gone and his wounds healed. “You were saying?”

One by one, the heads opened their cold, malevolent eyes and grinned with feral malice. My scream shattered into nothingness. I opened my eyes to a stabbing pain in my arm. Yanking up my sleeve, I stared in shock at the words carved into my skin: [[This house has monsters! Every time I'm killed, I'm thrown into a loop and lose all my memories. With each death, I mark my hand.]

He bumped heavily into Benjamin who was just starting to get himself again. “Zamora divine god help us, what the hell is wrong with Ser Godfrey this is obviously not a ravage monster, i suspect it could be a legendary monster with such strength.” Mica added, her face down with the outcome of the fight. “Mica, I need you to distract the monster, I have an idea.” “Over here!” She said, her voice echoing through the colosseum, the monster's interest got back to her as she ran avoiding its shooting webs. Mica couldn’t keep up for long as the monster was getting closer each passing second.

I don’t wait for a reply. The forest ahead looms like a wall—dark, vast, and humming with unseen life. I shake my head and tap my wristband. A holographic map flickers to life, casting a pale blue glow on my hands. Icons mark the nearest Level 1 and Level 2 monsters. A horde of Level 1s is already moving toward the shore, just a few minutes to my right. ‘Warm up with the goblins on your way in. You’ll need it.’

Especially dark ones. Horatio shakes his head. "I wonder sometimes if it wasn't Gordon who created the monster. His affections were very clear." "Horatio." He faces me dead on, eyes shadowed. "Say it. Who is her biological father?" "Nicholas—" "Fucking say it." "Chandler," he says flatly. To think it is one thing. To guess it. To hear it, though, and to know it as fact, it's another thing altogether. "Chandler Carlisle-Bent hated his half-sister. He despised her, Nicholas. He raped her over months and months, and I never even saw it. Never saw what was right in front of my eyes."