Horror Graphic Novels & Stories

horror striking Adir push her away with his fist, she groan but maintain her hold on him,She slip into his skin eating it sloppily,a small dagger kept by the door side for protection flash,he bend down dragging her with him to pick the dagger and slash her throat cutting her head off,her body fall limply on the ground,the hands inside his body dropping from it's reach,Adir sit down beside the door breathing abnormally. Something he leant about the night creatures was that anything could penetrate their skin and ordinary plastic item could tear through their skin but it can't kill them,they take hours to heal when you strike them,no matter where you throw the bodies and the organs,it located

Not even a single try. “What does it say?” I asked, brows furrowing as I rubbed both of my palms to create warmth. The cold had been much cruel today ever since we arrived at the healer’s cabin. I encouraged myself to look at the drawings instead; the art style is pretty much gothic, if not ancient. It wasn’t inked. Hues of black and white were embedded on the golden brown pages of the material. I saw the graphics of a human and a werewolf. They were doing something strange… some sort of a ritual. Elliot did not flip the pages further so I ended up guessing that that was it.

Nyx couldn't sleep. The drawing of the Skinwalker from Corvus's research haunted her—a crude sketch rendered in brown ink that had faded to sepia over centuries. The figure was hunched, its limbs too long, its face a featureless void with hollow eyes that seemed to follow her even when she turned away. Abomination had been scratched beneath it in a spidery hand, the word carved into the parchment with enough pressure to leave grooves. Someone had watched the genocide of her kind and chosen that word. Someone had documented their destruction with clinical precision and called them abominations.

" Grace reminded her. "Oh yeah, you'll go there with a broken foot," Ava said sarcastically and Grace agreed to her request in the end. Ava chose a horror movie but Grace was quite unsure about this because first, it was 5 in the morning which was a bad time to watch a horror movie, and second she was damn scared of these types of things. The movie stared and Ava was excited about it but Grace was covered in blankets. She screamed when the ghost appeared suddenly and scared Ava as well. She turned to look at her and found her trembling due to fear. She laid back and wrapped her arms around her.

Frank recoiled in disgust, his bowels desperate to evacuate. He lunged towards the door, but staggered and fell, his feet adhering to the carpet in a coagulated mess of the creatures' excrement. His knee hit one of the things and it thrashed violently. Instinctively, he shot to his feet and leapt for the door again. Again he fell, his fingers scratching frantically at the doorjamb. Something was crawling up his leg inside his trousers. He screamed in abject terror. It was moving up the back of his calf. He kicked his leg to try and dislodge it. It stopped for a moment, and then, as if with stronger resolve, slithered round to his shin and touched his kneecap. Frank lashed at the thing with h

I just asked calmly, “Those people downstairs begged you the same way, right? You let them go?” The rusty cleaver seemed to have a mind of its own as it sliced toward them. A dull blade cutting through flesh, stroke after stroke, would have killed them. But before the metal even touched them, their Fear Values spiked to 100. They exploded from within, their bodies disintegrating with no blood left behind. I tucked that murderous cleaver into my arms and soothed it like a pet. “Okay, okay. I’m fine. I’m not hurt.”

A large table sat in the center, covered in maps, papers, graphs, and diagrams scattered like someone had been frantically working. The air smelled of old paper and something sharp, almost like blood. We crowded around the table, my eyes drawn to the strange drawings. The diagrams showed creatures,bhuman-like but wrong, with long fangs, or claws too sharp for any wolf. My breath caught as I read the handwritten notes: Hybridization Process: Wolf Blood Integration. Words like “vampire” and “Dracula strain” were scrawled everywhere, alongside charts about mixing wolf blood to create a hybrid, half wolf, half something monstrous.

He drifted closer, his long, pale fingers almost touching my cheek. The icy chill made me tremble. I fought back the tears that were threatening to fall. "You look... frightened," he whispered, his voice as light as a feather but utterly terrifying. 【OMG, that close-up!】 【The Boss is into the streamer!】 【Use your charm!】 【No, no, this feels dangerous!】 【Harper, don't fall for it!】 【Wait! I see something!】 【Look at their foreheads! The symbols are glowing!】

PATHETIC DRAMATIC melted and re‑formed. SCARED CREATIVE “I made horror because I was scared,” I said. “Not because I was weak. I wrote bad things happening because bad things *were* happening, and it was the only way I could stand to look at them without going numb.” Memory flickered behind my eyes unbidden: me at thirteen, hunched over a spiral notebook while my parents argued in the next room. Me at sixteen, typing frantically after my sister had rolled her eyes at something that had gutted me. I'm hiding in horror books because at least *there is fear that had shape and rules and endings.

“Oh, so you won’t come out? Fine. Then I’ll smash all your d*mn flowers!” He stormed forward and stomped the flowers into pieces. At that moment, I suddenly remembered something Lucas once told me. In horror games, players who refused to participate usually died horribly. Back then, I thought he was just making up stories, but it seemed like maybe I really should’ve believed him. “Sir, wait, don’t–” Before I could finish my sentence, the crushed flowers suddenly regenerated. On top of that, they grew larger and larger until the enormous petals swallowed the man whole. A scream rang out, and then silence fell. All that remained on the ground were two severed limbs and a pool of blood.