Mechanical Horror Novels & Stories

I know I will nearly solve the case. “Ahhh!!!” I heard the father scream and lose his mind and then the wind suddenly blew hard which kills the candlelight. My room is so dark and I can still feel them watching me. They were surrounding me and it made me freeze. I can still hear them. I know I need to be strong even though my fear is already eating me. I can hear the laugh, the scream, the whisper, the weep that makes me so scared and I can’t take it anymore. That is why I grabbed the lighter beside me and I immediately lit the candle and opened my eyes and looked around. They are suddenly gone. They are not here anymore and the atmosphere of my room went normal. I wiped my sweat that contin

he said as he stared at the burning building, and I heard from a distance painful screams from that building. “Grim reaper?” both my mind and mouth asked. I read stories about them from multiple books in my library. He shook his head as he whispered to my ear, “Non, I am Doom and I-“

The sea was coming for them. Savannah’s hand gripped the nearest counter as a thin rivulet of icy water slithered across the tiles. In seconds, the alarms erupted—shrill, electronic wails, accompanied by the mechanical heartbeat of strobe lights. Crimson washed over everything: the polished glass tanks, the silent, suspended horrors inside them, the steel walkways trembling under each new shockwave.

My body slowly beginning to shake as I continued to take in each of their bodies, neither of them noticing me as both continued on making small talk, both wearing sinister smiles upon both of their faces the longer they do. The scene before me like a scene one would find in a horror movie. Like Chucky or Scream. The kind of movie that took blood and gore to a whole new level of madness. My body unable to move even as I continued to process everything going on before me. Grant quick to notice my lack of movement as he moves to follow my gaze only for a deadly smile to grace his lips as well. His eyes soon locking on those of his brothers.

I said confidently. "Hmm. Such a pity that everyone is already looking for you but does not know your fate in thirty minutes." He said and smirked. His smirk made me shrink. Like I said, his burn scars made him look creepy. And it wasn't just on his hands, I was now watching him carefully- It ran up his chin and beside his ears. He looked more like a modern day Chucky. "Shouldn't you be wary of taking me that way? They're more people there than you think. They could notice something going on and you'll be put into a state of complete jeopardy." I mumbled and he scoffed.

Warning bells were ringing in my mind, but I found myself inexorably drawn forward, as if some unseen force guided my every step. Walking deeper, I stumbled upon a carving that sent a jolt of fear coursing through me—a grotesque visage of a demon, its twisted features contorted in a grimace of eternal torment. Horns spiraled from his skull, framing the nightmarish countenance. Flames were carved around the skull, implying that the fires of hell burned around the demon. My gasp of horror echoed and bounced off the cave walls. I tried to move back. To get out. Because something told me that this was the last place I should be. But for some inexplicable reason, my feet moved forward. Like a mot

The next second, the Patchwork Monster tore the man in half. He tossed the body outside casually. Just then, a crisp, bell-like voice sounded outside. “It’s after work hours, who’s so rude as to be throwing bodies around?” A young girl with three heads and eight arms appeared at the doorway. With just one look at the shop, anger filled her voice, and her hair stood on end. “Who the hell had a death wish and smashed the Number One Must-Eat shop in the entire horror game?”

The forest was wrong. It endured them. That was the first truth they understood as their boots crossed the threshold of that warped stretch of land. It wasn’t merely the absence of birdsong or the way the shadows seemed to stretch toward them like skeletal fingers; it was a fundamental, molecular wrongness. There were no screams, no fresh blood on the moss, no visible corruption twisting the ancient oaks into something grotesque. Instead, this malevolence was quieter, more intimate, and infinitely more terrifying. It crept under the skin, a cold, oily film that lodged itself in the gut a deep, instinctual warning that whispered you don’t belong here with every step they took.

" I stayed silent, but that did not deter them. They started ramming the door. I pressed my back against it, looking at my unconscious mother in the bedroom, and closed my eyes. A living hell on earth was worse than any horror game. When humans start killing each other, they were more terrifying than monsters. ... Meanwhile, a group of bosses gathered in the empty supermarket, staring at each other in confusion. "Uhm, where's Ms Thrushwood?" one of them asked. "She's always punctual. Even on restock days when the shop's closed, she tells us ahead of time," another commented.