Grotesque Novels & Stories

The creature's body was slime-like, yet it seemed to have short limbs and a small mouth that produces a harsh hissing sound when it opens. "Don't call them junk," the elderly professor replied. Struggling to stand up from sitting on his chair, he gently placed the book he's reading on his desk, which was also filled with empty laboratory flasks, notebooks and pens. There was a stain of spilled ink covering the upper corner of his disorganized table. His hair and beard are almost white, with visible streaks of gray, and along with his crumpled and stained lab coat, they all seemed to have been unattended for a long while now.

In a fraction of a second, I screamed and darted out of the room, my heart exploding with dreadful terror, as the possessed and ghastly figure of my daughter followed me, moving backwards on her hands and limbs with her back bent low and face twisted. It was a sight that could rip a person’s soul apart and pop the eyeballs. The creature cackled in the most repulsive manner, flaunting decayed ghostly teeth and a pitch-black hole. My eyes couldn’t spot anything in the umbra, and I stumbled on something that emerged as one of Selina’s mates’ repugnantly mutilated body, and I shrieked, which caught the creature’s attention as it spotted me. It marched towards me terrifyingly,

Just one word as the title, as if it was enough to describe it. Curiosity drawn her to the grotesque face of the piece, noting how patient the artist was to build such creature. The face was godly but distorted, the body was intricately made and veins showing on both claws. It was posed as if to attack, eyes deep and cold and vengeful. “Prime,” a voice said, startling Chessa. “They were believed to be fruit of sins and wars, cursed to live under the dark, keeper of demons from the seven gates of hell.” It was Augustus.

A greedy, hungry sound. These things hiding in the smoke stood and reached, feasting on the body that lay trapped by age and sickness and sleep. Umbra waited, quiet as a mouse, as they kneeled and bent. Steps from her, Gran’s housecoat was lifted as they laid their hands on her body before more teeth bit and more tongues licked and more mouths sucked and more lips kissed. Her knees, her legs. The pale skin around her belly button. Her sagging boobies. Heads even pushing close to her super-duper secret private place. Lips spreading and jaws stretching and throats swallowing as her strength, her energy, her health was eaten. All she was, everything except her actual body, her life, being bit a

Crash! I stood over the fractured ice once more and swung the axe with every last ounce of strength. I hadn’t removed the camera from my helmet. Immediately realizing what I was doing, Luna screeched, "Sophie, are you crazy?!" I ignored her, continuing to raise my numb arms and swing them down, mechanically repeating the motions until… Crack! With a sharp crack, the ice split completely apart, exposing the heating pipe underneath. Taking aim, I lifted the axe high—

And then, the monsters breached the mist. They were horrifying. They were massive, grey-skinned abominations, their muscles bulging with sickening, unnatural proportions. Their chaotic, glowing purple eyes burned with mindless, explosive rage. To Mwajuma, they were the ultimate manifestation of the toxic, violent male spirit—beasts that existed only to destroy the beauty of the world.

Dark energy crackles, lashing out. Get down! Kieran’s voice, useless and frantic, but the instinct is mine. I throw myself sideways. The corrupted earth where I stood explodes. Chunks of blighted soil rain down. The backlash hits the corrupted form. A shriek, unearthly, agonized. The carefully constructed body… fractures . Mossy skin splits, revealing writhing darkness beneath. Glowing veins rupture, spilling sickly light like pus. It stumbles back, clutching at its chest, howling. Not pain. Rage. Betrayal.

As it crossed into a patch of yellow bioluminescence, Baraka’s breath caught in his throat. It was roughly human in size, but the proportions were grotesque. Its arms were elongated, the elbows possessing an extra joint that allowed them to bend backward. The skin was pale, translucent, and stretched tight over protruding, jagged bones that had grown wildly out of control. It wore no clothes, only the tattered remnants of what looked like a hospital gown clinging to its waist. But it was the face that made Baraka’s blood run cold.

“Can you make yourself visible at least? I don’t enjoy talking to nothing, it makes me feel crazy.” Movement out of the corner catches my attention and I watch as Knox emerges. It’s almost as if he’s stepping through a door I can’t see. He’s not translucent. Not glowing or hovering the way you expect a ghost to be. He just is. Tall, lean, and heartbreakingly handsome in a rugged way. His clothes are casual, black ripped jeans and a baggy black T-shirt, but they look well-worn and frayed. I have the urge to go to him, to touch him.

' The man said as he let out a low and dark chuckle. Purple was shaking with anger. The man immediately stopped laughing when he felt the girl’s stop struggling; he opened his eyes widely to receive something sticky and slimy in his eyes. 'YOU BITCH!!' He growled in disgust as he removed his grip from the Girls' hands and rubbed his eyes to remove the spit from it.