Graffiti Monster Background Novels & Stories

~Author’s POV~ "This track is called the Serpent's Back. It's a narrow road that goes up a mountain. There's no fence. Just a big drop off the side. People have crashed here. One guy died last year," Simon said, his eyes shining with amusement. Harriet listened, but she didn't look scared. She was looking at her car, a simple silver Mazda. She touched it. It looked old, but she could tell it had been taken care of. The tires were good. The engine sounded smooth and strong.

They all looked relieved. “You got the answer correct, now what do you seek for,” the monster asked. “We seek for the black crimstone,” Darrell replied. “In between me, it is,” the monster said and began to crumble “Farewell Guardian,” the monster adds and falls down to the ground like pieces of rock, the black crimstone laid on the ground between the pieces of rocks.

Thorny vines shot out of the woods and wrapped themselves around one of the monsters, trapping it but it wouldn't hold for long. The other two ran towards me with a speed I hadn't expected from monsters their size. Blasting them with my water magic didn't deter them, instead, it angered them further. They had almost gotten to me when the mist popped out six huge monsters, five of which immediately went into action. The winged monster didn't, instead, it trotted to me and nuzzled my cheek, making me smile. The Egran, which I had decided to name my monsters, fought with Karissa's scorpion-wolves with such speed that stunned the scorpion-wolves themselves at first.

“I don’t know if it applies, but I am gonna try.” Roslyn was going to retort that he could try all he wanted…But then she gasped when she saw his chest. He was broad and well muscled. His right arm was covered with tattoos from shoulder to wrist while his left arm was covered with even more tattoos by his shoulder. The name Monster was written in black ink along his forearm. Roslyn had to wonder how he got the name Monster in the first place, well besides his size. She bit her lip to hide her snicker. Or his disposition… it could be that too.

“And medium teal would look better, or they might blend in too well with the ocean background. Unless you have a beach background instead.” Knox’s eyebrows shot up. He snatched the ochre swatch away as if it had suddenly turned poisonous. "Peach. Aye! That's far bolder, far mair alive. Ye're right—ochre's a wee bit too polite for what I'm tryin' tae pull off." He grabbed a nearby pen and scribbled ‘Peach’ in large, messy letters on the corner of a sketchpad. “And you are absolutely spot on about the teal,” he continued, tapping his temple. "A beach background would be a wee bit too cliché, would it no'? We're no designin' a postcard here. We want somethin' wi' a bit mair grit. Maybe a rocky

I could tell this was where Leonidas and his wolves usually shifted, there was a pattern to it, a rhythm in the dirt, like a trail of their animal instincts left behind. My boots crunched softly as I followed the path. The claw marks led deeper into the trees, almost vanishing at one point, until something caught my eye. Blood. A smear of it, dark red against the pale dirt. I crouched down slowly and touched the edge of the stain, pressing my fingers gently into the dried surface. It wasn’t cold yet. Still damp around the middle which meant it was still fresh. And definitely vampire blood.

"Kael, could the Healer be wrong? The life force of our pup felt so strong the last few times we checked." Kael sighed heavily, his eyes rimmed with red. "Some curses only reveal themselves as the pup grows." He handed me the diagnosis, pointing at the twisted black veins on the parchment. "Look here. The pup's wolf soul fluctuates wildly. There are signs of silver toxicity backlash. In this condition, even if the pup is born, it will die from the pain of its first shift." His voice choked, and the hand holding the paper shook. He looked like he was in agony.

Marcus taunted. Dante grabbed him by the collar and slammed him into the wall again. Harder. “Touch her again,” Dante said, voice low and deadly, “and I’ll break every bone in your body.” Marcus’s eyes flicked to me. Always me. “That’s the plan,” he said. Rage snapped something inside me. “No!” I shouted. All three of them froze for half a second. Just enough. Marcus twisted sharply, elbowing Dante in the ribs and breaking free. He lunged toward me—

But in workout gear, it’s a game of where’s skin. He’s got this incredible realistic grayscale full sleeve piece on his right arm of a mountainscape of a wolf pup sitting on a lake looking at the rippled reflection of a full-grown wolf. His legs are grayscale realistic mythology scenes featuring, you guessed it, wolves. His left sleeve is different, still grayscale, but it’s a Nightmare Before Christmas sleeve. And his back dude has a full-color Japanese Godzilla piece. And lastly, his chest piece is this grayscale twisted grove of branches that comes together to look like a guitar with a raven on the perched wings spread wide on the top.

"But the graphite content is perfect. The metal particles will bind directly to the linen fibers. If the district captain tries to scrub this text off the village walls with water, he’ll only end up smudging the brick. It’s permanent, Elara. Chemical-grade defiance." ​I didn't answer—the quiet of my throat was an absolute anchor in the chaotic, echoing space of the yard. Instead, I carefully lifted the master stencil of the fourth edition from the typewriter carriage. The grease-paper was pristine, each perforated letter sharp and clear, waiting to slice through the dark, oily barrier we had just mixed. ​On the corner of the deck, the modified Vane scanner gave a soft, rhythmic series of sta