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Horror Fiction Quotes

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Horror Fiction Quotes

“You Can Not Be Honest With Others, If You Are Not First Honest With Yourself.”

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Author:Chris Mentillo
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“Evil should not be, Detective Vera. Truly never can be. But in defining it as such, an inherent human bond with negativity confirms its very existence. Its mere acknowledgement cancels its credibility. Evil is nothing—the lack of anything of substance— made concrete as a balance to everything else. Evil is not, yet it is a part of each human, because humans welcome its participation in their lives. They speak of it in anger or disgust, fear or even wonder— the most appropriate response— giving it a stronger foundation with every passing thought it distorts. Though within their pliable minds, they welcome it with the glee of the ignorant, nurturing the unthinkable, thinking the unimaginable, imagining the most horrid, abysmal designs, embellishing them with an insidious veracity until evil is as substantial a reality as their next breath. I strive for something else, beyond evil’s claustrophobic clutches. I strive to transcend evil by becoming pure nothing. I strive as my followers strived.” He paused, his ideology a cancer, spreading… “I am, yet I strive to not be. Do you understand, comrade?” His tone suggested fellowship, disciples of the same obscene religion. ...”

EvilHorrorWeirdLiterary FictionHorror FictionLiteraryDetective FictionWeird Fiction
Book:Autumn in the Abyss
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“Just make sure she’s comfortable and gets to eat whatever she wants to eat. That’s it. That was the oncologist’s parting advice, the home care instructions for the love of Jack’s life. His wife was now like a goldfish brought home from a mall pet store. The goldfish that was confined to a small fishbowl that sat on a bedroom dresser. The little goldfish you imbue with so much love. You feed it first thing every morning. You talk to it. Develop a relationship. And then one morning, after less than a week of having the fish home, you find it floating belly up in its little tank. And you realize some part of you knew this would happen. You realize that every morning you fed the fish you were saying goodbye. You just didn’t know it at the time.”

GriefHorrorCancerHorror Fiction
Book:Send Me Your Nightmares
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“O cheiro é inconfundível, quase metálico, entranha-se como vapores pelas narinas, pela boca e pelos poros. Já não sei se o cheiro é em tal concentração que qualquer pessoa o poderia notar ou se, imperceptível, sou eu que me habituei a tê-lo presente, capaz de o reconhecer mesmo em proporções insignificantes. De qualquer forma, é real, sente-se, está aqui. Esta casa cheira a sangue. Nada de novo.”

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Book:Contos de terror do Homem-Peixe
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“I stared down at my hands and saw the blood coat them, how warm and real something felt when it wasn’t just ink and stains. This was life and I was holding it in my hands. I drew my eyes back up and beneath the flickering streetlight and the throng of drunken cattle, I saw nothing else but the dead girl. Somebody out there had taken her life, her heart, and there I was with her warm, sticky blood. Feeling the most alive I’d felt in years. I had to find him. I just had to.”

HeartDarkBloodHorrorDepressionMurderScaryRevengeKnivesHomelessDisturbedGoreHorror FictionShort StoriesDepressedSerial KillerKillerHorror WriterKnifeGrittyHorror Short StoryDark SceneHorror Short
Book:Down by The Mausoleum
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“By this unhinged craziness - I sing praises to dead rabbits. Embodied by the craven of sin, their whispers exist in me. No dawn can avert me, just leave me here in this forbidding place. All I want is this noesis to leave me on this crest of soaring Alps. The bliss of this nameless nightmare will make me dwell on its snow-covered form. All I can discern are gateways leading into the deepest frozen infernos. None of them are willing to torment me - as I am already disturbed. Is this the stead where God has died? It seems to be fervently so. No Moon has ascended here - only a pallid eye-like sun was staring down at me. Only this bitter cold shows me a real horror - a dreadful worry that no monster has to reside in it. Vacancy has made the surrounding atmosphere eerily still. All there was, was a weak hum of a chirping bird whistling in the obscurity. Every Tree was massless - nameless - shapeless confined to hostile spaces that grew ahead. This aeonian, a limitless eternity of interminable suffering, has a beckon to endure fourth. Indignant cries erupt from my flaccid throat - sounding for a sob that someone can hear. All there was a deafening hush, with that ominous bird tweeting in the distance; so I believed. Within a moment, a rumbling of a devastating howl was booming and crashing directly in front of me. It was indeed not a wolf, for this was something far more malicious than any canine species. I could not perceive it with my naked eyes, for it was just another aspect of the void that can not be witnessed. Its presence did not want to be detected, it just desired for me to know its existence is here. Inconceivably, I was not able to go face-to-face with this utterly horrific thing that was invisible before me. O’ the great madness and fright was ravaging me, rendering me psychotic and deranged. Discordantly, this nemesis splendor was starting to manifest its fondness for my presence. Barren and bleak when it invoked its cryptic witchcraft, withering away my insecurities to be frightened. The bottomless pit was eager for me to be eternal, wanting to enthrone my image as the coming Lucifer. I was conceived to become the supreme embodiment of blasphemy for the emergence of hell itself. My inner consciousness was being Plunged by the menacing screaming, as my hearing was being bombarded by piercing sounds of a violin shrieking. The God-awful screech of these horribly shrill screams where just the roar of hysterical laughter. Chaos - O’ that glorious disarray - I was condemned to be impelled with an absurd compulsion for madness.”

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Author:D.L. Lewis
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“I was born in a dumpster, in an alley behind a dive bar. A wee speck of methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus, baptized by saliva from a hospital orderly, clinging to a wedge of pizza crust. Honestly, I didn’t want to hurt anyone—certainly not the Norwegian rat who gobbled me with his yellowed fangs, feeding me a banquet of liquefied refuse. We’d both gotten a bad rap, MRSA and rats.”

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Book:Rigor Morbid: Lest Ye Become
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“Insects crawled across my skin, legs skittering across my flesh, numbed paths of cold left in their wake. They were the creatures that heralded my ghosts, and I knew them well, yet the revulsion they caused in those moments far exceeded anything I’d felt before.”

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Book:Chasing Azrael
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“In the illusion of delusion, between madness and lawlessness I exist. I dream about dreams, about illusions and disillusions and cold and madness and you… the source. Known and unknown and the eternity and the darkness flittering with my soul and on the outside of memories; cages and cages of feelings caught in a single line of dreams shackled to a thought”

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Book:The Master of the Realities
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