検索キーワード： 著者 "Mace Styx" すべてのカテゴリー

Then, she looked up and let out a short, bitten-off scream. A...thing was there, looming above her, observing her with the impassivity of the cat. Though most of it was shrouded in darkness, Paige knew it was a demon. She could vaguely make out the silhouette of wings, of huge horns curling up from its head like a gazelle. She wanted to light more candles to see better, but she didn’t want to look away from the creature.

Well, this beginning of my new life did not start as I thought it was going to. I was here for less than two hours, and I already managed to have a panic attack. What should I expect next. I was in a foreign country, in a car with two people I do not know, going to a clinic where I should have a meeting that could determine my whole future. I had no idea how to do it, but apparently, I had four and a half hours to bring my A-game and impress my future boss.

One of the most remarkable things about Cathy was her beautiful skin. She had skin that was clear as crystal. And her figure was amazing. Her nose was pointed, defining her face in a well-structured manner. People often called her "the sunflower girl" because of her features and talents as a stripper.

The next complainant brought us back our cabbages, which was one of our produce that father took pride in. He was already agitated before the vendor could say anything. And just like the tomatoes, the cabbages looked totally fine on the surface. The vendor took out one of them that was already cut in half, and father tried his best not to lash out in front of the vendor because of what he saw. There were maggots crawling from the stalk of the cabbage, and the inner leaves were incredibly pale that it was almost grayish white.

We were dangerously close from the explosion. My ears rang as my vision was blurred by the ashes that covered the area. As I regained my hearing, I heard a very discreet sound that sent chills down my spine. I was certain that the others heard it, as well, when they turned their heads from left to right. It sounded like a silent howl of something that I have not heard before. It was like a strong gust of wind passing through a shattered horn or a screech being forced out from a dry throat.

"No.” She admitted, guiltily. “I am sorry. If I enter the darkness, it would grab me before I can fetch you anything to get the fire going.” Sam nodded. He had faced death before. But every time, there was hope, a fighting chance. This time, he could do nothing. Emily visibly shuddered. “He will have me, place its scythe through my soul. It allows it to control the agony my soul receives. Then, until the morning, I will keep suffering. Every moment feels like an eternity. I might switch to my other personalities, just to escape the pain.”

The Reaper did not speak. He did not even move, for what need did he have to chase anyone? Everyone comes to him eventually. Men, women, and gods all are consumed in his ever waiting black. Clive, sighing deeply, turned to look Death in the face. In the form he took for Clive, Death stood around seven feet tall, the hood of his monk’s cowl falling to just above the bridge of the nose, had there been a nose to speak of. Instead, there was simply a hole, a cavernous nothing, like death itself.

She blinked at Sir Farridan’s sudden entrance. He was surprised by how ordinary-looking she was, for a princess - they were supposed to be wispy little things, delicate and ungodly beautiful. Princess Idrun wore a simple white gown, her unruly blonde hair falling down to her hips, a greenish cast to it in the light. How will Sir Farridan rescue a princess who doesn't want to be rescued?

Oliver spoke first, the only one who could initially find their voice and start what they came here to do. “Is anyone here with us?” And just like that, the planchette began to move. Slowly, it made its way to "yes". "Are you the girl they say haunts this bridge?" Charlotte asked. The night around them suddenly got darker, pitch-black, and it got windy, with the sound it made under the bridge sounding faintly like screams. The planchette then moved from "yes" to "no". Nora gasped, bringing her free hand to her mouth, looking at Oliver for comfort.

Enjoy this short story by Mace Styx. George heaved a great sigh, dragging a hand over his face. “Rebecca...do you recall when your mother was pregnant with Orin?” he asked. “I don’t suppose you do”. Rebecca frowned in thought, then shook her head. “Not very well”, she said. “I would have only been around eight years old at the time. But I remembered she was bedridden during the last couple of months, wasn’t she”? “She nearly died”. George replied, and Amelia visibly flinched".