Frankenstein Graphic Novels & Stories

He wished he had a camera right now. He would love to take a picture with Frankenstein staring out into the street. He giggled as he almost ran into the Wolfman. He touched the fur on its hand, all the while admiring how real they looked. He wanted to take his time admiring everything, but he couldn’t.

Jesus . Her mood continued to sour into disquiet the further she went in. There were things on a few of the printouts Emma wished she hadn’t seen. At one point, the eyes of a werewolf with a bodybuilder physique burned into her from an old woodcut, its jaws embedded in the midsection of a victim dangling from its hand like an hors d’oeuvre. In a black and white photo, a grim line of men in Civil War regalia posed for the camera, the winged corpse of something that resembled a dinosaur stretched out at their feet. Emma’s fingertips began sticking to the pages. She wiped a sleeve across her brow before any of the gathering sweat could slide off her face and smear the ink.

The darkness within the cavern enveloped us, its oppressive weight matching the uncertainty that loomed in our hearts. We treaded cautiously, our paws making soft but deliberate steps along the rocky terrain. The faint glow of luminescent moss provided the only source of light, casting an eerie glow on our fur. As we delved deeper into the cavern, a figure emerged from the shadows, a werewolf with sleek black fur and piercing amber eyes. His presence seemed unexpected yet oddly comforting in this foreboding place.

Claire withdrew her hand and took a step forward. “He may not look as good as Mason, but we found useful antibiotics in his blood. The necrosis of Tracy’s cells has been suppressed…” “…He does look ugly.” A chunk of flesh with bulging blood vessels. I could only describe this new creature as an animal. It was nothing like Mason’s perfect and miraculous creation. It looked more like a random mix of different animals stitched together. I felt bored and uninterested. “Claire!” I called out to the woman who was circling around the glass incubator and admiring the new creature.

With a blink of an eye, he was at the entrance of the den, he entered and walked through the walls covered in cobwebs and flickering candles, casting his reflection across the stale air. Thick red velvet curtains adorn the windows and fluttered with the wind, Pascal stepped forward and stood before four vampires. His gaze was cold as he studied them, and the colours of their eyes changed to a deep scarlet, a sign of impending violence. "A werewolf in our den?" one of them growled in annoyance. Pascal darted at them with a speed faster than sound, low groans and moans escaped their mouths, and they fell making flesh thuds. Pascal moved swiftly, killing all the vampires he saw on his way until

Herne focused his attention back on the screen, "Who is leading them?" "Your old friend Matthias Ponts, or at least I thought so at first. Brace yourselves," She pulled up an image of what appeared to be a Female Frankenstein monster. Unlike the Hollywood version of the aberration, the female golem was shapely. Long angry scars along the neck and shoulders. Tiny bolts jutted out from the throat area but did not look out of place. The pale skin and mixed and matched eyes haunted warren. Archon flashed a picture of the wolf gigas he fought. "Archon thinks it's another gigas. I agree with him."

screamed Anthony, terrified, “you need to see this.” Hansly and Dmitri ran to a room around the corner of the hallway to see the rest of the men gathered inside a large study. It was the smell that caught Dmitri first. A thick, unbreathable stench of death filled his nostrils which closed his throat and his eyes stung. He made his way into the study and knew that this memory would be burnt into his brain for as long as he breathed. Headless torsos stripped of most of their flesh hung on the walls along with decaying arms, legs and heads like trophies, paintings made with blood glued to the walls and even photographs of Werewolves, Vampires, Witches and other supernatural beings being torture

That wolf was dead now, along with the entire eastern pack. His anger built with the memories of the battle. He became so lost in thought that the imagined smell of smoke made his eyes burn. The plane landing. A vampire subduing him. The last terrible images of his pack. Vampires and cats slaughtering everyone. Franklin, the vampire leader of his pack and his best friend, torn to pieces. The screaming of she-wolves as the children died. Those same she-wolves torn limb from limb shortly after. He remembered everything, the graphic details imprinted on his brain forever. Now he had a chance to exact his own revenge and something to live for.

Next to everyones name except for mine was the word deceased. As I turned the pages there were drawings of what the author thought was my monster but the more pages I flipped through, the more the images changed and began to resemble me and the way I looked when I shifted. A large black monster neither wolf nor vampire but something in between, it had the extended teeth of a vampire but a snout like a wolf, the ears were small and pinned to the head whilst the body was huge, muscle after muscle bulging everywhere. A thin layer of black fur coated the dark skin whilst razor sharp claws were protruding from the hands and feet, it really was a disgusting sight but that was one hundred percent m

He hungered to hear the sickening crunch of her skull popping open like a fucking exploding watermelon. He continued to play, staring back at her with rapt attention as that graphic image kept appearing at the forefront of his mind. Keeping that devious smile plastered over his face. She switched positions, spreading her legs open before him. She was still naked after that earlier tryst with two human males and a female, her body reeking of sex.