πŸ“– Monday Night Monsters: Creepshow (1982)



The Storyteller Chronicles:  Pages of the Damned


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πŸ•―️ Opening Monologue:

> It’s not them I fear.
Not Seraphine with wings like burning stars.
Not Nyra, who moves like silence with daggers.
Not even the Clatchi, who train like they were born to end things.

I walk beside monsters. Magic. Death. Legends.

And still…
The thing I fear most is me.

Something ancient is growing inside.
I feel it when I dream—ink bleeding into parchment, tendrils wrapping around memory.

The others don’t see it. Not yet.

But when they do… will they still call me ally?
Or will they do what must be done?




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πŸ“œ The Story So Far…

We were resting after training. Val and I, bruised and breathing hard in the hollow belly of a cave, where the air tasted like smoke and stone. Our blades had just stopped singing when Seraphine appeared—her wings still radiating heat from a battle we hadn’t seen. Behind her, Nyra, hooded and unreadable. And from the shadows, the Clatchi crept forward—small, swift, relentless.

But none of them looked at me like they used to.
Not with caution.
With urgency.

“We need your help,” Seraphine said. “All of you.”


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⚙️ The Enemy: Threxil, Devourer of Sparks

Threxil wasn’t just some rogue machine.
It was a sentinel from the Ash Void—a biomechanical horror fused with fractured time and dying starlight 🌌⚙️. It was built to protect balance. But something went wrong. Terribly wrong.

Now, it hunts.

It stole the Arken Shard, a ruin stone forged in the Dawn Cycle that powers the Lifeforce of their dimension. Without it? Time decays. Oceans vanish. Cities crumble into sand in a matter of hours. The world… dies.

Seraphine and the Clatchi are warriors.
But they can’t out-think Threxil.
Not without a bookworm.
Not without someone who knows the shape of myth, the scent of ruin, and the rhythm of story.

And that’s where I come in.
Val—with her fists of fury and focus—and I are their best hope.

When I agreed to help, the Clatchi stepped forward, eyes narrowing.
“If the shard changes him,” one said, “we will end him ourselves.”

Val’s hand hovered near her blade.
She didn’t say a word.
But her silence said everything.


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🎬 Movie Time: Creepshow (1982)

Sometimes horror isn’t just one monster.
It’s a collection.
A patchwork quilt of terror.

Which makes Creepshow the perfect pairing for tonight’s story.

🧠 Written by Stephen King and directed by George A. Romero, Creepshow is an anthology dripping with morbid humor and EC Comics flair. Each story is a blood-splattered parable—with a wink, a shiver, and sometimes, a scream.

Let’s break it down:


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πŸͺ¦ Father’s Day
Vengeance from the grave! A zombified patriarch rises to collect what’s his—on his birthday, no less. πŸŽ‚
Best moment: “Where’s my cake, Bedelia?”

> A reminder: some ghosts don’t haunt—they demand dessert.



🌱 The Lonesome Death of Jordy Verrill
Stephen King himself stars as a hapless farmer who touches a meteorite and becomes overgrown with alien vegetation.
Think: cosmic horror meets weed killer.

> Isolation. Madness. Green thumbs… everywhere.



🌊 Something to Tide You Over
Leslie Nielsen plays it straight-up terrifying in a tale of revenge via high tide. Drowning has never been this vindictive.

> Betrayal and beach-front justice. Waterlogged terror at its best.



πŸ“¦ The Crate
What’s in the box? A creature with more teeth than patience.
A professor discovers a solution to his personal problems… and it involves feeding them to the thing under the stairs.

> Morality, marriage, and monsters—chew on that.



πŸͺ³ They’re Creeping Up On You!
A germophobic businessman battles an unstoppable cockroach invasion.
Spoiler: the roaches win.

> Clinical horror meets infestational chaos. If you hate bugs… skip this one. Or don’t.




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πŸ’‘ Did You Know?

πŸ“š Creepshow was inspired by the 1950s horror comics King read as a kid. The movie mimics that style—complete with comic book transitions and neon lighting.

πŸ•Ή️ The film’s FX team? Legendary. Tom Savini led the practical gore effects. Every squelch, ooze, and head-snap was real. Well… real enough.

🎞️ The wraparound story with the kid and the cursed comic book? That’s Joe Hill, King’s real-life son—now a horror author in his own right.


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πŸ“¦ Shelf of Secrets:

> A weathered, tattered comic book. The cover reads “CREEPSHOW #1.” It bleeds ink. Literally. The blood is dry, but it’s there.
Found wedged in a stone crack beside the Storyteller’s gear… but he swears it wasn’t there when they packed.




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🧨 The Journey Begins

We leave tomorrow.

Through a rift Seraphine will carve open in the fabric of their dying world.

Val sharpens her weapons, muttering lyrics under her breath.
Nyra lingers, staring at me like I’m a question with no answer.
The Clatchi stalk the edges of our camp, watching for cracks in my soul.
And me?

I stay up late… reading.
Not for knowledge.

For control.

Because if the Threxil isn’t stopped…
...I might become something worse.


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And if you dare… drop a comment and tell me your favorite scary movie, urban legend, or horror memory.
We’re just getting started—and things are about to get dark.

thenightlystoryteller.blogspot.com


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