Horror Monologues Novels & Stories

The misty gleamed red, like the terrible drop of a blood oath, before squirting onto the rotten ground. "Shit, this place is scary; I mean, Hollywood movies are kind of scary," Diana murmured as she noticed the hoary tree knots glaring at her like baleful eyes. She felt like the devil's forest was infecting her with its evil darkness, like it was talking to her; she could almost feel the breathing whiz of the moistened turf. Diana had never encountered these sentiments on her many journeys. She had battled her demons in her nightmare, quarrelling after the dreadful monster in the fathomless bowels and dripping basins of the deepest caves of her dream; however, this forest was scarier.

However, any glimpse of tranquility was abruptly shattered by the haunting voices that reverberated within the recesses of my mind, akin to an eerie chorus heralding a descent into madness. Those voices, once sinister and chilling, now twisted and distorted, permeated the eerie stillness with Killian’s haunting laughter. Each malicious chuckle seemed to snake through the air, sending shivers down my spine, while George's screams reverberated through my thoughts. Their resonance was enough to send my skin crawling, a visceral reaction that betrayed the very essence of my being.

“…drink the blood from her veins.” “Devour her screams…” ‘So not panicking.’ My frayed, weak laugh was contained to the mind-link. ‘Alright, I’m panicking a little. I’m like a fucking shrimp cocktail to these creeps!’ “Come here, little girl.” One crooned, it’s voice like violence. Like blood. Like death. “We can hear you breathing.” ‘Say nothing, poison. You hear me? Keep that mouth of yours shut or there will be hell to pay later.’

He snarled, trying to convince no one but himself of his own words. Laughter bubbled out of me as he fumed. I saw the anger dancing in his eyes as I laughed, and even then I breached the distance between us, stopping before his fuming face. I placed my palm on his shoulder and leaned forward. I had a diabolical smile on my face as I spoke. “I am the monster they fear, Father. I am the unknown evil lurking in the shadows, the monster rumored to have murdered his mother as a child. I am the one evil they don’t understand that has them watching every step, every word, and every action. You might’ve been a terror before I was born, but you and I both know I am the one thing they fear above you.

Has he drained me within an inch of life and now he wants to finish the job, or does he want to turn me like in all my vampire novels that I read as a kid? I don’t know if I will ever know, because all he does as I stare at him is smile at me with a smirk on his lips and sits silently cross legged. After a few more moments, he finally starts to move forward as he leans into me and says with a strange accent, “Don’t fear my child. I won’t harm you. I merely want to ask you a question?” He pauses before continuing with that slithering accent like something you would hear in a horror story or someplace in the darkest parts of Europe, “Have you ever wondered if the things that go bump in the

i fear for the worst i am in a room of endless empty offices light fixtures ticked on and off like christmas lights in the summer i ran and ran but the hallways did not stop an endless vignette of darkness swallowed me they’re out to get me a monster is right around the corner it is silent yet it prowls it is here and yet it is not here it is out of sight, not out of mind have to kill it before it kills me or i descend to the furthest depths of hell and burn for all of eternity Mickey blew out like a fuse box and passed out on his desk. He’d be sleeping peacefully again. For now.

“But there aren’t any monsters in this movie.” “Stop doing that.” “Doing what?” “Taking everything I say literally. The monster is a metaphor okay, a metaphor for horror. I want the audience to bring the horror home with them.” “I’m sorry, I’m just not buying it. I’ve seen too many arty horror films and read too many short stories that ended inconclusively. They don’t scare me, they just leave me dissatisfied and annoyed that I’ve wasted time and money on them, when they couldn’t be bothered to tie up all the loose ends.”

At this point, she began questioning what she and Becky saw. That was until they got to the top of the stairs and flipped the first switch to turn on the lights. The sound of haunting moans audibly filtered through the air in protest as heavy shadows fled into the dark corners of the room. With the closer look at the shadows, Gemma now understood these weren’t shadows unless shadows came in a solid inky form. They crawled or oozed into the darkness, but the plaintive wail clearly made it all worse. “Definitely Fear Mongers. Where’s the next door?”

The air was thick with the scent of dampness and decay. As she struggled to free herself, the sound of footsteps echoed through the room, growing louder with each passing moment. Fear coursed through her veins like ice water. A figure emerged from the shadows, his face obscured by darkness. Sarah's heart raced as he approached her, his presence filling the room with an unspeakable menace. "You're a very special girl, Sarah," he sneered, his voice low and menacing. "And you're going to do great things for us." Sarah's mind recoiled in horror as the man's words hung in the air. She was trapped, helpless, and at the mercy of this monster.

And yet the horrors before them eclipsed the storm’s violence. The frog-monster let out another guttural croak that vibrated in Jonah’s bones, its bulbous eyes rolling grotesquely as ichor spilled from its torn underbelly. Smaller creatures crawled along its flanks—centipede-like abominations with human hands for mandibles, and eyeless wolf carcasses reanimated by dark magic. Silas’s breath hitched. “Gods above…” “Don’t freeze now.” Jonah’s tone was sharp, masking his own fear. “We don’t have time.”