Gothic Novel Setting Novels & Stories

Death would be preferable. He carries me over his shoulder again. We walk toward a building that you would expect to be owned by vampires. It’s dark, gloomy, and gothic looking. Gargoyles at the corners of what looks like an old castle. The only lights that I can see from inside look red and cruel, like what I’d expect in a low-class brothel. When we walk in, the screams that are coming from somewhere in front of me make my blood run cold. It’s the sound of pain and fear and death. Along with that sound is the sickening sound of lustful grunting, slurping and flesh being ripped apart presumably by sharp teeth.

* The story is told from a single POV, and it doesn't change over the whole book. A trivia bit that blew me away: I picked the setting rather randomly, and later on, I found out I set my ghost story a stone-throw away from where Lovecraft set The Dunwich Horror and The Color Out of Space. Those coincidences I love about writing. Okay, enough gibberish. I'm just gonna breathe deep and hope for the best. Please let me know what you think with a rating, share and consider giving the story some gems! Any and all feedback is much appreciated!

Clearing my throat again, I try to will away the heat rash that I can already feel blooming across my chest and neck – my tell-tale sign of being either nervous, or too drunk. "So, we basically saw Southern Gothic arise in the early 19th century. It's a super distinguishable form... or, uh, mode... of literature. It's filled with an identifier, something called 'the grotesque.' We have a lot of feelings of alienation and darkness that's indicative of the struggles that ran rampant in the American South during that time period, and the authors often sought to point out the moral shortcomings of the South. Slavery. Patriarchy. Racism. That sort of thing. So, a lot of delusional characters. Mad

Beneath the horror and the rational terror of what she was thinking about, there was a deep-seated conviction that she had to find this person. That something essential was incomplete without them. "This is insane," she told herself. Then she started walking north. As she got closer to the Nocturne District's edge, the streets altered. Older structures supplanted newer ones, with stone and wrought iron replacing steel and glass. The lighting becomes more dramatic and dimmer. The smell of old roses from the gardens that many vampire houses kept filled the air, making it feel even colder. A few pedestrians walking in the opposite direction passed her. They appeared to be humans returning to sa

"Why are you so obsessed with this novel? You read it to me!" Nina tries to focus on the book she is reading. "The door opens violently and the dust fills the room. This room, which is arranged like a new house, seems to be shrouded in a faint gloomy and miserable atmosphere like a tomb..." Nina's voice is soft and moving, pure and magnetic, which sounds very comfortable. Lucien puts his arm around Nina's waist and face on her head. He sniffs at the perfume from the depths of her hair. His voice is sexy and low, "keep reading."

It was pitch black and the ground was soaked, with streets between old stones, cold, wet grass, with a dense fog that was expected, due to the winter that was approaching that region , that was a marshy land, and it was full of puddles of water and mud, although that was what I expected, walking in the night spray, with a constant, biting cold wind. It was coming with the sound of a cutting wind. A strange, dense environment planned everything, including the weather, so monotonous and gloomy, like something out of a horror film, between the shadows and specters of the night, enveloped by winds, as if it were in the middle of medieval England . Even though it was going back in time, walking t

The mansion's corridors seemed to elongate as he traversed them, heading toward the rendezvous awaiting him in the secluded backyard. As they approached, a romantic tableau unfolded before Francisco's eyes. The air was infused with the sweet scent of roses, their petals scattered like a carpet under the soft glow of strategically placed lights. The ambiance, a calculated blend of allure and elegance, cast Lilith in an even more seductive light.

POV: Maya The Blackwood estate sat hidden in the mountains, three hours north of Blackstone. The road twisted through dense forest until suddenly the trees parted to reveal a gothic mansion that looked like it belonged in a Victorian horror novel. Gray stone walls covered in ivy. Tall windows with heavy curtains. Turrets that reached toward the cloudy sky like accusing fingers. The place radiated old money and older secrets. "This is where your mother grew up?" Jaxon asked from the driver's seat.

Anya’s POV The silence of the Rhodes estate wasn’t peaceful; it was heavy, the kind of silence that felt like it was pressing against my eardrums. After the jagged violence of the Chicago streets and the cold, transactional air of my father’s warehouse, this Gothic revival fortress in the Berkshires felt like a different planet. A planet where the laws of physics were replaced by the laws of Kai Rhodes. The foyer was a cavern of dark oak and white marble. The air was chilled, smelling of floor wax and something floral that felt out of place—lilies, perhaps. Funereal and expensive.

The mansion loomed like a fortress of secrets. Perched on the jagged cliffs of Harrow’s Point, the sprawling black estate rose from the mist like a myth come to life. Ivy snaked along its stone walls, iron gates towering high and unwelcoming. It was the kind of place that devoured sound. Even the wind, which should have howled across the gothic towers, seemed to hush itself as if afraid to disturb whatever slept inside.