Gothic Gargoyle Drawing Novels & Stories

Gargoyles lined the path on either side of them, soft growls emanated from the stone protectors. "I told him he should upgrade these things. Why can't we have a three headed hound like Hades and Persephone?" Zalakai asked openly. One of the Gargoyles shifted its face from stone and bared its teeth at Zalakai menacingly. "Oh, how scary." He said sarcastically before he snapped his fingers. The Gargoyle grumbled into dust where it stood.

Just as the end of the bridge came into sight our path was blocked by two figures dressed in black a stone creature roared between them. "Vampire's and a gargoyle." Lucinda breathed just loud enough for Max and I to hear. A purple glow swirled around them. "They are under a spell." I muttered. The grimoire bobbed almost nodding to me.The gargoyle lunged and Max transformed into his wolf growling fiercely. Lucinda's eyes changed to their vampire scarlet glow as crouched ready to brace the impact of the charging gargoyle. I fought in human form blocking one of the Vampire's as they hit out at me. Our attacking and defence was limited as we were standing on the bridge with the dark waters of th

“Begin.” Demons leap from the shadows—falling from the ceiling, crawling from walls, even sneaking up behind us. A massive gargoyle-like creature blocks our path, but instead of stone skin, his hide is made of bone. On one side of him is a lion-headed woman in Egyptian garb. On the other, a woman with antlers and a body split down the middle—half rotting skeleton, half cold-eyed human. Others close in from behind, but I’m locked on the horrors in front.

The gravity of his speculation hung in the air, heavy with foreboding. The silence that followed was thick with the realization of that potential reality, a human, perhaps? Innocent, vulnerable, and most importantly, ignorant of the ancient power they were unwittingly unleashing upon the world. The Gargoyle, an ancient sentinel carved from rough stone, rumbled with a voice as deep as the earth itself. “The earth… it does not lie. Where did this… Chosen One appear?” His gaze shifted toward the ever-weakening light within the room. “Where was the tomb disturbed?”

"We are close" "Close to the demon's cave?" I queried. "No. Close to the creature that made that growl" Benjamin said. Before he could speak further, we felt a chill behind them. "Fucking hell!" My gaze widened at the creature behind us. "You didn't deem it necessary to inform me we were tracking a fucking gar" "It's called a Gargoyle and you didn't ask" Benjamin forced out as we watched the winged creature approach us as if approaching a prey.

Brandon looked at the image stylized on the brittle and yellow parchment in shock. In the center of the sheet, was the Ghoul or a blocked and inked panting of it. All of the limbs were stokes of circles and blocks and in the painting its teeth were overly dramatized, its ears pulled back, and its limbs far too long and painted pitch black, but beyond all of this the essence of the picture was of a Ghoul.

Noah was on the floor with the drawing unrolled in front of him. He had added something in the lower right corner. Small. Specific. We crouched down to look. It was a house. Not Captain Fossil's house. A house. With a pitched roof and four windows and a garden. And three figures at the right side. A tall one. A medium one. A small one with a fossil in his hand. But different from the drawing on the kitchen table. In this version the three figures were inside the house. Not at the right side.

That’s what they say in every horror film before the lead dies. Still… I followed. The air grew cooler as we descended. When she pressed a switch on the wall, soft light filled the space as my eyes widened. The underground room was covered in ancient drawings. Walls filled with creatures — humans, werewolves, vampires, witches, dragons, mermaids, faries and something else I didn’t recognize. One caught my eye — tall, radiant figures with wings spread wide like light. “Angels,” I whispered. Eleanor smiled faintly. “And their kin.”

She merely scowled at Rosette, no doubt thinking that she’d merely traded one demonic master for another. “How about you, little boy?” asked Rosette. The boy looked ready to open his mouth, but the girl gave him a reproachful look, and he closed it again. Soon we arrived at a house—not quite a manor, but larger than a typical London home. A gargoyle sat atop the door, and leaned down over us as we neared. The children and I jumped. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” said the gargoyle, its stone lips pulling back to reveal stone teeth. “Do you happen to know the password?”

The atmosphere was suffocating, heavy with despair and hatred. In front of the gates, three powerful creatures stood out. To the right, a white Lycan with golden tips in his fur and eyes red as embers. At the center, a witch with flaming hair and shimmering purple eyes. To the left, a great Dracula, with prominent fangs and eyes as black as the night. On the ground, drawn in blood, mystical symbols formed a circle. At the center of that circle, a baby lay wrapped in a cloak adorned with enigmatic engravings. The little one cried in despair as a dagger hovered menacingly above him.