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S.L. Lewis

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About S.L. Lewis

  • Rank
    Loving it up with my Slash

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  • Age in Years
    35
  • Gender
    Female
  • Sexuality
    Ask Me
  • Favorite Genres
    Horror
  • Location
    Arizona
  • Interests
    slash, reading, writing, rping, editing, AIM: SweetStrailo

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  1. My 2020 plans? Let's see. Finish rewriting and editing the Rose and Lex story called Books and Roses. Post it. Write on the Anthologies. I'm going to plot them sometime in the next month or so. Work on and get close to finishing Bad Dog.
  2. Why yes, I am alive. Why do you ask? 

    Let me just state that the last while has been slightly insane. Between holidays, pain issues and other issues cropping up at random times, I have been a tired writer. 

    But I am going to do a few things this month.

    1) Plot out the anthologies that I plan on joining in on. (Must read the forums again)

    2) Finish some rewriting that I need to get done.

    3) Plot some shorter fanfics that I am posting currently. 

    4) Talk about the discord server I have more. 

    5) Finish rewriting Lex and Rose story. 

    6) Actually post the story.

    7) Finish off the Christmas Romance. 

    I wish to do this all before July. Here's hoping!

  3. *sips tea for throat* What happened during November? Well. I wrote a lot. Okay so let's break it down. I was keeping pretty good on keeping on track with the base amount of words. I did a lot of small things to get started and I continued a few older things that I've been wanting to play with. A list: A Santa Needs a Mate story - 31 chapters in length. I'll post it when I'm done with it. Obscurity: A Morally Grey Harry Potter story. I need to reread the first 20 chapters to take notes and fill out information but I'm working on it. Never a Spare: A What If Harry Potter story. I did some filler chapters for the first arc of this story. A Naruto Time Travel fic. No idea where I'm going with this. Another Naruto fanfic. I know where I'm going with this one. Yep, I focused on a lot of fanfiction. I've been rewriting Bad Dog, which is a Comedy-Horror fiction that is book 1 in a series. I had issues with it, but now I'm doing better with it so I kind of haven't been focusing on the fanfic the way my mind wants me to. Fanfiction is a happy place for me mentally since I don't have to build a world for my characters. So outside of the writing, what happened? I was sick for most of the month. It was come and go for the cold but it was there. The first week was all about the shopping for things. That was fun. Really. The second week was foggy and I spent most of it wording very slowly with one or two days of good words. Week 3 was wonderful and I hit my word count hard and fast. The last week was all about thanksgiving prep and relaxing. I did enjoy my day of turkey though. It was delicious and relaxing. I am now hopefully able to get away from real life and spend some time on playing catch up with some stories and other people. ❤️ Hugs and loves all of you! Also, yes, I won! I hit 50K on the 27th between making bread and skinning yams.
  4. *squints* won nano. Will be back after I'm along laptop later today with more information. Love you all.

  5. What to say. What...to...say. First of all, it's the 7th. I'm tired. So very tired. I've been either in a lot of pain (knees were grapefruit sized they were so swollen) and I've been doing Nano! So how about I break it down? Week 1 of National Novel Writing Month: Week 1 has been interesting to say the least. On the 3ed, our friend's van died. She had to get a jump to start it up and we couldn't let it shut off (which made getting around a bit interesting), but I got some words that day. Then yesterday was shopping for my household. I got...no words. I was just so tired and my head hurt and...the cold had hit me hard. Like very hard. I'm recovering but right now I have this lovely thing called a temp so it's not happy making. Anyways, I'm sitting at over 11K right now, so I'm not hurting to badly. Current Works: What am I writing? 3 fanfics and 2 different originals. My 2 originals are named Santa Needs a Mate (which is straight up romance) and Stalkmas (which is just what it sounds like). I'm already on chapter 5 of my Santa needs a mate and I'm mostly focusing on it for the moment. I'll be doing my others that it'll take a while to get it done and out. I hope that people like it, that's for sure. I'll also probably need someone who can edit things for me. We'll see how it goes down. Other stuff: Like I said, cold hit me hard. I've been okayish for most of this week but the last two shopping trips have just worn me down so I'm resting and relaxing mostly. Hopefully by the end of the month I'll have gotten past this cold in full and I'll have a lot of words to rewrite and edit!
  6. Happy Halloween ya'all! I've gotten some wonderful responses to my Halloween story so that makes me very happy! I'm going to hold off on posting the last chapter of my Halloween collection on here for a day so I can post it tomorrow (when I get up and get to work on my NaNo stuff).

    So, plans:

    1) Write Mini. 

    2) Write my Santa Needs a Mate WIP and Stalkmas.

    3) Work on the other 3 stories I have holding for me. Cause I need to.

    That's it. 

  7. S.L. Lewis

    Chapter 1

    Seeing as this is backstory for the full series (in progress, just need to finish off a few other things first), it was a lot of fun to write. Now I know the motivation of a character and I creeped people out. My day is a good day. *cackles* Good. I'm glad that I was able to creep you out. And I grew up on old school horror. Not surprising that I write it to. Oh just wait until I'm actually able to get the full story written. I'm in the middle of giving Bad Dog (book 1 of this series) an overhaul before I start up on it again. So this'll be lots of fun.
  8. They had gone to see an old house and help their friend decide what he wanted to do with it. They weren't expecting to be betrayed in such a way by one of their own. A Gay Authors Halloween Hunt 2019 story.
  9. Staring up at the house, Michael tilted his head. “I’m not sure what to think about this,” he drawled. He tucked his hands into his pockets. Leon rested his chin on his friend’s shoulder and hummed. “It’s big. I didn’t know your family had money,” he said. Michael shrugged as he hefted the bag up further on his shoulders, tilting his head back some more. “I kind of forgot that we do. It’s mostly in trust,” he admitted. “I get an allowance and once I get through college, or find a career that makes me happy, it’ll go up. It pays its own taxes and shit. I don’t really think about it,” he said. Leon hummed, Maria bouncing up to stand and look up at the house with an amazed face on her look. “Wow,” she breathed, Barbra walking up to stand next to her. “Damn. Is it even safe?” Barbra asked Michael, getting a nod. “Alright then. Shall we go in?” she asked. Michael chuckled and pulled out his set of keys and wiggled them, the group of four walking up the stairs. Bending over, he pushed the key into the lock, turning it with a click. Panting and running down the hallway towards the hidden door that Michael had shown to them, Maria slid around the corner. She slammed into the wall shoulder first, fingers fumbling for the switch. Finding it, she shoved at it, pushing her entire weight behind her to get the rusted latch open. Watching the door pop open, she yanked it open enough to slide in and pulled the door closed behind her. Groaning, she rubbed at her bruised shoulder, caught her breath, and started to run once more, heading down the servant’s hallway. She knew where they had all agreed to meet each other should they get separated but was worried that she would not make it. The thumping footsteps and the scent of fire was still heavy in her ears and nose even as they started to fade behind her. Maria stumbled at the near roar of anger that echoed through the house, feeling that she had escaped the creature that had been hunting her by a hairs breath. She stopped for a minute, pressing a hand against the wall as her breath came out in shuddering gasps. Calming herself down, she continued down the hall, turning left at the branching, knowing that the right hallway would continue down to the kitchens. She wanted to get to the back stairs. Finding the doorway that lead up the backstairs, she pushed it open and gazed out into the dark. Finding nothing but blackness, she stepped out, pulling her penlight that Leon had insisted they all carry just in case, she flashed it around. She stepped further into the stairs and closed the door partly behind her. She walked up the stairs, being careful of where she was walking when a hand reached out between the stairs and grabbed at her ankle. Her scream echoed through the soundproofed hallway as she caught sight of the manic grin on a decaying face. “Tell us about the house, Michael. You never really talk about it, but I hear that there’s stories surrounding this place,” Maria said as she carefully checked the chimney in the master bedroom. They had all decided, after looking around, that the master bedroom would be best to sleep in while the living room would be a good place for the rest of their day. Michael hummed as he and Barbra laid out their sleeping pads and bags. “There’s really not a whole lot to tell. Just a lot of rumors and shit because they didn’t like my family. Rich baron family from the South coming out this way after the Civil War? One that stayed on the North’s side while feeding the South a bunch of bullshit?” he asked. He shrugged as he sat back on his heels. “Really not a lot to tell.” Barbra snorted. “Your family helped a few battles be won by supplying the Northern troops food and medical supplies. Not to mention help funnel information back and forth as it was needed,” she said, shaking her head at her boyfriend. “I’ve done some research into his family. The stories mostly come from the South. His ancestor of the time came up from a very poor family. Taught himself to read with the help of his bosses. Learned how to read the invoices as he proved himself a hard worker. Got a job as a runner at first, then later helped to work the processing of cotton and wool. The man’s boss actually took him under his wing when he was sixteen because he didn’t have an heir to give his business to.” “The guy didn’t like his son-in-law. Called the guy a lay-about who only married his daughter for possible money when he kicked the bucket. The guys wife refused to lay with him for more than one child,” Michael said, rolling his eyes. “Guy changed his will so that his daughter only got a small amount of money from his estate as long as she was with the guy, any kids that came from that marriage would have jobs when they grew old enough to start working, and the husband got nothing. My ancestor worked hard to make sure that the business would continue to go well.” The year before the old guy dies, his daughter divorces her husband via death, takes the kid and marries Michael’s ancestor. They have three more kids, move out of the South after the Civil War, then the rumors that they made deals with the devil start to come around,” Barbra said, shaking her head. “Not the devil. A demonic being of some unknown name. My family had to have a bunch of land consecrated by an official priest from the Catholic church so that they could be buried in blessed land because of those rumors. That land still gets blessed every three years for three days on the third day of the third month. The local parish still doesn’t like us,” he told them. “A demonic being? Really?” Leon snorted, shaking his head as he put the basket of wood that he had gathered from outside down. “I got wood for the living room to. We wanna cook lunch before exploring?” he asked, holding up four flashlights and matching penlights. The two women cheered as their boyfriends shared amused looks. Whimpering, Barbra curled herself up tighter in the little cupboard that she had found, listening to the creature thump past her. Through the slates of the door, she saw that the hooved feet left behind burnt-in marks on the wooden floor. Clamping her hand over her mouth and trying to keep her breathing even, she waited as the creature walked down another hallway, wondering just how big the house truly was. Michael had told them that the house was huge, a stately manor at one time, but a few of the wings had been closed off to be rebuilt when he had been a kid. After his parents had died, they had been finished off but kept closed off since there really hadn’t been any reason to open them. When she was sure that the creature had left the wing that she had hidden in, she pushed the door open and slipped past, closing it behind her. She could still remember the warning that Leon had read in the book. It had been about closing any door that you had opened behind you otherwise the creatures that were called could hunt you down if you were marked as prey. She already hated that they were running and had been running for most of the night already. Carefully stepping over the creaky boards that she had remembered from their tour, Barbra headed for the front of the house, trying to remember if there were other stairs beyond the ones upfront. “No, he said most of the stairways had also been shut down because of dry rot,” she breathed to herself. She carefully slipped through a door, closing the door behind her, waiting to hear the snick before she lifted her hand up. Turning around, she frowned at the fact that she was in an office, one that looked as if it had been closed off for a lot longer than just a couple of decades. “Where am I?” she wondered, stepping carefully around the furniture. Pulling out her penlight, she shined it around, finding that most of the furniture were covered in dustcovers, protecting them from the dust and time. Lifting one corner, a carefully sculpted brow rose at finding an antique piece in near mint condition. Dropping the cloth, she walked over to the desk and found that there was a diary in pretty good condition sitting in the middle of the desk. Carefully flipping it open using a long nail, she started to read the words before her, remembering the handwriting of Michael’s ancestor who had moved his family to the land they had built on. She sat down as she continued to read, finding herself sucked into the story that the man was weaving about how he had gone from rags to riches. It had been a part of the history that hadn’t been told to anyone, having met his mentor and future father-in-law, and learning all he could. Including all about the contract that the men of their family held with the demonic entity. As long as they kept their side of the bargain and brought him into their world when humanities faith was weakening, it would help them. Closing the journal, she stood up and shuddered. “Oh gods, what is going on?” she breathed, moving to walk away from the desk. A hand with bones for fingers that were barely hanging on by the rotting flesh came out from the darkness under the desk, a leering grin making her scream. “Ya should always make sure that it’s all truly closed,” the creature breathed, an odd echo to the voice as it yanked her down, ignoring her scream as it pulled her into the shadows. “Wow, this place is freaky,” Maria said, wrinkling her nose. Leon nodded next to her. “Yeah. How many wings are closed off? And how closed off are they?” Leon asked, looking at Michael with a curious look. The other man hummed and rocked on his feet. “I have the keys actually. I turned seventeen and my guardians gave them to me so that I can do what I need to do with the house. I’m not sure what I’m going to do with it. I’m hoping that I can figure that out,” he said. He shrugged. “I remember most of how the house is laid out but I also have like the basic blueprints of the house printed out so that I can use it like a map since there were like three wings that I couldn’t get into as a kid.” Leon looked over and watched as Michael took out several folded sheets of paper from his pants pocket. He looked at them with his friend, figuring out where they were. “Okay, here’s the living room. It looks like they closed up the servants wing, the family personal wing, and the guest personal wing,” he mused. “What do you mean by a personal wing?” Barbra asked, looking around Michael, eyebrows raised. “They’re not where they slept. It’s where they could just hang out without worrying about someone bothering them unless they were a servant. Only family were ever allowed in those wings,” Leon explained. “They held small reading spaces, personal studies and libraries. The more ‘public’ areas of the houses held formal living rooms, classrooms for the children, places to entertain. It kept the two parts of their lives separate.” “Where do we want to explore first? I’m kind of wanting to check out the guest wing at the least,” Barbra said, smirking at her friends. Maria rolled her eyes and pointed to the wing. “I’m kind of wanting to explore this place here,” she explained, pointing to a study off of the main area. “That’s the servant’s quarters. The offices,” Michael said, reading the small print on the paper. Michael looked over the pages. “It looks like the servant’s quarters are connected to the rest of the house by hidden hallways and stairs. I know most of them in truth and I can get us around there,” he said, smiling at his friends, leading the way towards the servant’s main entry way. The other three followed after them, Leon bringing out his three-in-one flashlight and using the lantern option to light their way. “Fuck,” Leon groaned, slamming the door behind him and sliding down to the floor, head thumping against the wood. “Why did you drag us here?” he hissed, staring at his friend. “Michael…” “I don’t know.” Michael sat back onto his heels from his position on knees and hands, staring at him with dark eyes. His eyebrows had furrowed together, and his lips were tugged down into a frown. “I have no idea. It was just a thought of heading out to the family house and thought you guys would be interested in coming around with me.” He moved so that he could rest back against the wall near his friend. “Leon, do you think...that the old story of my family being cursed is real?” he asked, rubbing a hand through black hair. Leon sighed, slumping as he listened for the thudding footsteps of the creature that had chased them from the basement into the bedroom. Hearing nothing, he shrugged. “I have no idea,” he groaned. He slumped and looked around, seeing the bags that they had dropped off in the master bedroom along with their camping supplies still there. “I suppose...that we should go out and see where the girls are.” “I am not leaving this fucking room,” Michael hissed, eyes wild. “Did you see that fucker? Like a movie devil made from nightmares,” he continued, shuddering. “I say we stay here and wait for the sun to rise.” “You heard the same screams that I did. I think that was Barbara,” Leon said. He pushed himself up and checked his battery levels, the light on his lantern flickering. Muttering, he got into his pack and pulled out fresh batteries, sliding in fresh ones. “I can’t leave them out there. I think I saw Maria running for the servant’s wing while Barbara was running for the personal wing.” He looked at Michael, the other man holding out the papers. “I’m still going to sit here. Maria brought that funky as fuck book copy back with her. Maybe it has some information as to what it is,” he said, nodding to the book sitting on one of the beds that they had set up. Leon nodded. “Stay safe and keep your phone close,” he said, wiggling his own phone. It wasn’t their normal phones: rather they were the two-in-one phones that were connected walkie-talkies and phones. The girls had their own but hadn’t answered when they had tried to call them. “Yeah, I will. You remember the back passages?” Michael asked, shakily standing to grab one of the bigger lanterns, turning it onto a good brightness. “Yep. Stay safe,” Leon said. He pressed his ear to the door, and not hearing anything, pulling it carefully open, looking out into the hall before slipping out. Michael picked up the book and smiled at it as he listened to Leon close the door behind him and disappear down the hallway. “I will,” he hummed, tucking the book away. “Damn,” Leon breathed, staring at the large library that had been their last stop. “Your family really owns all of these books?” he asked, looking at the climate- controlled bookcases. “Yeah. My great-grandma was a historian and put the first cases in. They used to use things like salt packs to keep moisture out and the windows were a brown color that you could read through. These had just been put in like a week before my parents died and the books put in. I think they still use things like salt packs to help with excess moisture, but part of my estate pays for the electricity they use and the caretaker that comes from the museum.” He tucked his hands into his pockets and rocked on his feet. “Guy knows his shit. Works with books mostly but also scrolls, parchment, old papers. Whatever needs to be carefully preserved. He’s only in his forties. And in return for taking care of the books, he can sit in here and carefully go over some of the older things.” “What is he doing with them?” Maria asked, looking at the man. “Scanning them into a computer program for the use of the museum and his thesis work on a few things,” Michael admitted. He nodded to a computer that was against the wall. “On the other side of that wall sits the room with all of the servers that run the bookcases. And the tower of the computer to,” he said. “It’s kind of cool. Some of these books have been appraised as worth thousands if not millions of dollars. The insurance won’t die until I’m in my grave and my great-grandkids are all grown up to.” “Your family were really smart about this, weren’t they?” Leon asked, shaking his head. “Hey, looks like he left out a book,” he said, pointing to a book made of leather. “The fuck?” Barbra breathed, frowning as she walked over to it. She rubbed a finger against her jeans, rubbing off the oils before gently stroking over it. “It’s made of a skin of some kind. Not cow. Cow is different in texture,” she said. She saw the specialized packaged gloves, grabbing a fresh set and opening them, pulling them out. She slid them on before very carefully opening the book. “The Deals of a Family,” she read. “That’s the book that was said to hold the deals that my family made with the demonic creature,” Michael said, frowning. “What’s it doing out from its case?” he asked, looking over to the unlocked case that looked to hold just the one book on display. “It shouldn’t have been removed at all.” “Think I can read it?” Barbara asked, smirking at him. Michael waved a hand and she flipped to the first chapter. “How to summon the beast. Call forth its name and bind it to you with blood. Eww.” “It wasn’t a nice book,” Michael said, shivering as the air started to go cold around, pulling his sweater up to around his nose. “It’s starting to get late. I think we should replace the book,” he said. Barbra pouted but did place the book into the case before making a surprised sound at finding another copy, this time bound in cow skin. “Can I take the copy?” she asked, holding it up with a smirk. “Never seen that one so sure,” Michael said, the group of four heading out to the living room where a warm fire and hot coffee waited for them. Michael looked around the library once more before closing the door on the soft growling laughter that echoed. Leon stepped out of the hallway and walked to where he could see a door standing open. “This wasn’t unlocked before. Didn’t Michael say that this was his father’s study?” he asked himself. He carefully pushed the door open further, stepping into the room and running the lantern portion of his flashlight around the room. Walking over to the desk, he found nothing there but some old papers that looked to be correspondence from various investments and friends. Stepping forward, he paused when his foot kicked a pen light. Bending down to pick it up, he noticed that the twist knob was the brilliant pink that he had painted for Barbara’s, feeling a shiver run down his spine. “Fuck,” he breathed, looking around for any sight of his friend in the room. Finding nothing, he left, heading for the next set of servant’s hallways and stairs, turning to walk up them. He knew that Maria most likely would have headed for them and the relative safety of the master bedroom where she could have lit it up with the lanterns. He was halfway up the stairs when his foot once more kicked a penlight, knocking it down to behind the stairs. Cursing softly under his breath, he walked back down the stairs and worked his way back behind the stairs, finding the pen light. It had a bright yellow painted on the turn top of the flashlight, telling him it was Maria’s. “Where did they go?” he asked. He shined his light around the crawlspace and paused at the disturbed dirt that sat before a part of the wall. “The fuck?” Carefully walking over to it, he pushed on the wall, feeling it give under his hands. “Huh.” Using his flashlight to light the way, he pushed the door open a bit more before stepping into the room, closing it behind him. He looked at the way the door worked. It looked as if the only way to open it from the other side was to push and release to get the catch loose enough to open. From there it would once more lock and the catch itself could be opened from the inside. Shaking his head and making a note of how it worked, he left the door and headed down the hallway, trying to remember if he had seen it on the blueprints. He stopped and stared at the marking on the wall and tapped it. “Right. The backway of taking out the deceased in the family. They would die and to stop those in the main parts of the house, they would use three specific servant hallways to move them to the right rooms for the wake and then the funeral,” he told himself. He continued to walk down the hallway, peeking into a few of the side hallways. Looking down, Leon frowned and bent down, shining the light along the floor with a groan. “Dragged through the hallway, huh?” Leon said, standing up again and following the drag marks. He came to a final door. It was large and decorated with roots that had things intermingled with various faces. Swallowing, he reached out to push the door open, never seeing the bat heading for his head. Walking out of the bedroom once he was sure that Leon was heading for downstairs, Michael hummed softly. He went over what had been going on for the last several hours. He had brought his friends, lying to them about never being there in many years. He had been there, having to sign off on some upkeep on the house. Otherwise there would have been roof damage after some of the bigger storms that hit the area. And that would have ended up destroying the interior of the house, which would have meant more work. Luckily for him, his guardians had explained when he had turned sixteen just how they had invested his estate money. Small investments in major companies when they came up for sale. Investing in a couple of major chains. He lived off part of the interest, the rest going to the upkeep of the house. It had been on his seventeenth when he had started to explore the house in earnest and found the book that the museum worker had created. He had created four of them, bound in various types of skin to figure out what it was. One had been made from sheep, one from deer and one from, surprisingly, squirrel. How he had done that, he couldn’t figure out. The last one had been specially treated to keep supple with some information that he had ‘found’ in the journals that his family had left. He had learned other things. Like they had indeed made a deal with a demonic being, a devil of a sorts, to gain power. The story that most knew was correct for the most part, but some details had been changed. When the old man had been getting on in years with just a son, he had been looking for a proper son-in-law for his daughter to give him a proper heir to his fortune and estate. Then his ancestor had walked into the factory as a child, learning how to read by doing the invoices and working hard. His ancestor had impressed him and continued to impress him up until the moment that he had married the man’s daughter and she had become pregnant with a boy. Then he had been taken in under the wing of the man and given the secrets to his family power. His ancestor had taken to it like a duck to water and signed the same contract. From there, the two families had become one and grown from there until he had been born and something had whispered to him late at night. He hadn’t known what it was, hadn’t really cared because it felt right, and he had listened to it. That night he had killed his parents, found the first of many special journals from his ancestors, and spoke to the creature. Of course, he hadn’t known what it was until he had returned at age sixteen, seeing it’s true form made of shadows, souls and molten gems. He had agreed that it was more than time to fulfill the family promise and worked towards that for the last two years. It was time for that last step. Three people who considered him friend, and in the case of Barbara, his lover. Three people who would feel the betrayal when he cut out the proper parts that he would feed to the creature in it’s chosen form for the night. The creature chuckled as he licked his paws, having chosen to take over a feral cat, fattening it up and getting it’s body used to a lot of good food. Michael smiled and put the book down next to the original book before picking up the bat and going to hunt down Leon. The other two were knocked out already and ready to be woken up. He walked out of the room and headed for where he knew Leon was, smirking as he snuck up behind him, lifting his bat. Watching the four of them wake up, Leon gagging because of the concussion that he most likely had, Michael rested against the table as he carefully cleaned a knife. “Michael?” Barbara slurred, getting a smirk from him. “Welcome back, Barbara,” he cooed, coming to kneel before her as he stared at the way her eyes widened, staring behind him. He chuckled as she stared at the devil behind him. He had known from the moment that he had meet her that she could see things that others couldn’t. He could see the form of the devil behind him. And it looked as if she could to. “Did you know…that there was truth in the stories of my ancestors making a deal with a devil?” he asked, smiling at his friends. He stood and walked over to the table again. “At least before that one ancestor who married into the family who did. He made his own deal to continue their line nice and strong, and when a proper boy was born, they would fulfil their side of the deal. I just happen to be that boy,” he said. “Deal?” Maria asked, Leon shaking his head, trying to get his head to clear. “A deal. To have power, monetary and familial. To keep the bloodline strong. Back from the Dark Ages,” Michael replied. “We used to be cursed, in a way. Poor and with children dying left, right, and center. No money. A bad habit of marrying the wrong people who turned out to be abusive, cold as a fish, and other shit like that,” he said, crossing his legs as he stared at them. “My ancestor, a woman hoping to marry a Lord’s heir, found a way to contact the devil that you see here and made a promise that her family would bring him to this world in his own form.” The creature chuckled, mouth sitting open as it spoke. “It has been many decades since I have made that deal. I had to wait until a proper son was born. There were daughters who would have been good, but the woman was smart and specified. She was my greatest deal, and I was willing to wait until the proper child was born.” The smirk was obvious. “When Michael was born, I knew that he was the perfect child to do what needed to do.” “So one night, he came to me and told me just how to kill my parents. A bit of sedative lacing the coffee grounds in the coffee pot. A very carefully sharpened knife in the perfect spot to hit an artery without much issue. They died without waking up once and I ‘woke up’ a couple of hours later when my nanny arrived and found my parents,” he drawled, smirking. “Not a single person suspected me, found any kind of evidence since the knife had been carefully washed and put away, and I was just a kid. What kid could kill their own parents?” “Never mind that there’s dozens of cases about killer kids,” Leon slurred, his head flopping back as he glared at the man. “You a sociopath.” “Indeed he is. The perfect child for what I need to happen,” the devil chuckled. “And it all started with the hunt.” Michael smiled, a sweet smile as he picked up the knife that he had been cleaning earlier and walked towards them with a chuckle. The next morning, he carefully washed off in the river that ran along the far back of the property, cleaned up the plastic that he had used to keep their blood off the floor and gathered their things. Placing it all into Leon’s car, wearing protective gear to stop from leaving evidence behind, and glad that they had decided to go in two cars, he drove the vehicle to another house that was nearly ten miles away driving the winding roads. He knew who used to own it before he had gone insane and killed his own family, and the house was considered haunted by many. He knew that it was just an empty place with ghosts of the past haunting it. Leaving the packs just inside the house with keys in one pack, he carefully left their lights in one of the rooms and left. He noticed that someone had been in the house recently and swept things up as he left, shrugging. The police would most likely find out who had been cleaning up the house when they found the car, so he wasn’t too worried. Walking back home, using the backtrails that he remembered well, it took him just under twenty minutes to get back and start to call their phone numbers as the sun started to rise. He finally called his guardian and asked her if his friends had arrived at her house since it looked like they had left him for whatever reason. Laying that groundwork, he called the police, told them where he was and said it looked as if they had packed up and left without him. He chuckled with the devil when they promised to be there as fast as they could to find his friends. “Ah, but they won’t be finding them,” he hummed, checking his nails as he walked down to the hidden room with the now very full cat. “Will you be fine for a few weeks?” he asked. “I will have much to eat for the next few weeks. Do try to find me a healthier animal, preferably larger to, when you next come,” the devil hissed. Michael promised as such and left the basement once he had put everything that could be bad for him in the room. Such fun was soon to be had.
  10. Notepad: She had left her notepad laying out on the desk the night before. Her mostly done notes had been neatly rewritten and highlighted, the notes she had taken in class next to them, waiting to be transferred. But what was making her pause as she climbed down from her bed was the fact that there were new words on them that she knew she hadn’t written on the new pages. Her roommates had gone out to stay with other friends in another dorm to study for the exams to come, so she had been alone in the room. Alendra swallowed and wondered if something had followed them from the estate. Especially when she got up to read what had been written, paling at the “You haven’t written my story” in tight cursive. Cursive that she knew very well. She looked to her file cabinet, knowing that she was going to have to print out all her notes, but decided that she should be safe instead of sorry. She left her room, using one of the dozen grills that the university provided the dorm room students to burn the pages before having a friend come bless the room. She was not going to write about the psychopathic bitch that had possessed her line to kill whoever she felt didn’t deserve all that they had in life. bone: It was old. Discolored with age, turned an almost yellow color but not quite there. It was rounded in parts and straight in others. It had an interesting texture under his touch and made him smile while he remembered just how he had gotten it. It was slim and lean, just like the woman who had used it to walk. A nun who had died in a fire; one of the few that hadn’t been casualties of said fire. She had tried to get her fellow nuns out of the fire after a fugue state, anger and hatred clouding her mind. When she was unable to and saved, she had felt so despondent that she had killed herself. The church had covered it up since before her suicide she had thought herself possessed. The church had just thought she was having a mental break down and promised her that a therapist would see her soon. She had never gotten her confirmation or her therapist before she had taken her own life. The sixties and seventies were a great time for mental diagnosis and mental health awareness, but still so bad in so many ways. The church had gone back and forth between a person being possessed and a person having a mental illness so much during that time, that the poor nun had gotten caught in the crossfire. He smirked as he smoothed a hand over the bones, feeling the faint carvings of runes and symbolic circles that had been carved onto her very bones over three years. He knew that she had been a chosen sacrifice by the very demon that he now served. It had worked it so that it’s power had saturated her bones and muscles and skin. He knew that if the church had exhumed her, they would have found her body in near perfect condition beyond a bit of leathering of her skin. He looked over at a patch of said skin, reaching out to trace the faint scarred mark that his master had left on her in those years. “Yes, she was just the perfect choice,” he cooed, smoothing a bit of the rich auburn hair that he had found in her coffin down. “She will power the last of our rituals perfectly.” Guitar: She really did love her guitar. It had been well loved and used during her many years of owning it. She had restrung it many times and the body had been carefully cared for. The neck had a few parts replaced over the years, but that hadn’t taken away the fact that it was still loved and was a gift from her father. He had taught her how to play on it when she had been but a young girl-child. The years of blood, sweat and tears going into leaving her with a composing career left her with happy, fond memories. She had left that life behind when her fingers had started to hurt more and more, arthritis settling in without a care to her wishes or desires. By then she had been well into her fifties, more than ready and able to retire. Her investments were doing lovely things after all, and her retirement fund was quite large by then. Her husband had been smart in the way that he had made money himself, and they still had royalties from the music that she had worked on or composed herself for various companies. Not to mention his own royalties. But now, after so many years, she was alone, her husband gone for three years, leaving her alone in their small townhouse. Their children had long moved out, going out to build their own careers and show their brilliance to the world. And her guitar had been placed in a case, displayed proudly. Her will already said that it would go to her eldest, who had gotten chosen to play in an established band. He also taught the same lessons he had when he had picked up her guitar when he wasn’t touring or creating music. Still though. She really did wish it would stop twinging out “I love you. Always” every night. She wished to sleep. And really, her husband may have been a smart man with money, but he had been a lazy slob of a man. She didn’t want him to stick around after she had put in so much work to kill off so that she could enjoy her golden years without picking up after him. Space: It was vast and cold. She had known that. It was filled with planets and suns and things that she could only hope to understand even slightly. She would often wonder how it would feel to die up there in the vastness. To stop being able to breath and freeze in seconds. To float, unable to stop, just a body that would most likely never decay. Maybe one day get hit by a meteorite, or a comet, or just general space debris. She wondered but she never thought for a second that she would learn first hand how it felt to die in space as she was shoved out into a space lock, the door closing behind her before the one to the outside opened, pulling her out without a suit. She found that even as a ghost, space was quite big and scary. But so very filled with those had found their own death in the vastness around them. Book: It was heavy and thick, covered in leather that had been carefully treated and taken from a deer. It was well kept, its counterparts just as in good of a shape. Alexander ran his fingers over the cover and frowned at the raised lettering that created the title. He had no doubt that at one time they had been embossed in gold foil, creating a beautiful contrast to the rest of the dark leather. Picking up a piece of paper, he carefully placed it over the cover and ran his charcoal stick back and forth to get a proper impression of the words. “Births and Deaths of the Marquis Family. Years Fifteen-ninety to nineteen-seventy,” he read aloud. “Well damn. You would think that they would have removed this when they moved.” Maria looked over his shoulder before smiling. “Oh, information,” she chirped, pulling it over and opening it. They found all the names that they knew they needed, finding that someone had actually written down ‘murdered’ for several causes of death with ‘undetermined’ for others. The book was creepy in that for many years it was mostly a death registry, but it was still informative. The ink and book though looked so very new which added to it.
  11. Alendra looked up from where she had been pouring over a large tome and squinted at the room around her. It was still dark outside, still in that odd twilight that they had been in for the last day since they had found the mummified body of a baby. The library that they found seemed to hold every book that had come into the house was lit up with candles that were stored in a room to the side and their rechargeable lanterns. She knew that Kyle was somewhere in the library. Looking around, she found him moving to his own seat and laying a large tome of his own down, frowning as he read a page in it. Tipping her head back, she swore that she had heard someone walking slowly behind her. Turning to look over her shoulder, she scanned the area, finding nothing but a large open space with furniture that had been destroyed in what they guessed was a fight. The long windows let in the feeble twilight light in from the outside. She turned back to the book and managed to focus for a few more minutes before a thud of a book landing on the floor made her jump and jerk around. Kyle jerked from where he was sitting and stood, looking over to where a book was laying on the floor. They stared at it. “Did you…” Kyle trailed off, unsure on how to ask what he wanted to ask. She shook her head. “No. I didn’t even see it when I was looking at that spot a few minutes ago. And I sure as hell didn’t move it,” she said. She shuddered softly, biting her bottom lip in thought. “I’m not sure what I need to think.” Kyle swallowed, standing up and walking around the table to the book. He knelt and carefully picked it up. “January second, nineteen-fourteen, to January first, nineteen-sixteen,” he read, frowning as he stood up. He walked over and placed the book down onto the table next to Alendra. Flipping it open, he caressed the careful, looping letters. “Jillian Marquis nee Vela. Didn’t we find all of her journals on the journal shelf except this one?” he asked. Alendra nodded after checking the list of journals that they had scanned through already. “Yeah. It was the last two years that she was alive if I’m remembering correctly. Her death date was noted as February of nineteen-sixteen,” she said. She flipped through her hand-written notes. “I kind of wondered where this journal had gone off to. But it’s here now.” Kyle hummed. He walked down to where he had been working and found his own notes. “No idea where it was, but her husband’s journal said that she had gotten really sick around that time. Vomiting, unable to eat anything. Blood in her vomit. Some of it brightly colored, as if freshly spilled. Some of it chunked up like ground tea leaves,” he said, reading off the information. “I think that she was killed if she was vomiting blood. I’m thinking something that would erode the stomach lining away mixed with low doses of arsenic. If I remember my history, it was easy to find the plants and arsenic at that time if you knew what to look for.” Alendra pulled a face and shuddered slightly. “Do you think that she’s one of the people that we have to solve the murder for to get out of here?” she asked. Kyle sighed and nodded. He pulled up a list of four other names and typed it out. “Yeah, I kind of do. It looks like we’re going to have to go through the last couple journals of hers and find out who she talks about in a negative way. Then we’ll make a list of people to visit their rooms. It’s like the ghosts are intent on making us solve as many of these murders as they can get us to before we’re allowed to leave,” he complained. Alendra reached over, patting his arm with a smile. “At the very least, we’re not always stuck here reading books. Doesn’t Richard and Alexander have Karen and Michael Conner’s case right now?” she asked. Kyle nodded. “Yeah. On the left side of the mansion in the Yellow Wing. Markus and Maria are in the Gold Wing going over the Branson Marquis case. The great-great grandnephew of Jillian,” he said. We just have to wait for them to finish off those two. If I remember correctly, Jillian and her husband were in the Gold Wing. I think that we need to focus on them so we can solve her case. Or so we can get some rest before digging through the wing. Whatever happens first.” “I think that getting some sleep will be a good idea actually,” Alendra stated, shaking her head. “Seriously, who would strangle a kid though?” she groaned. Kyle winced, rolling his shoulders. “No idea, but it’s nice that the family made everyone have journals to practice their writing, reading and comprehension skills. Otherwise, I don’t think that we’d have as much information as we do now,” he said, shaking his head. “And we’re lucky that he was thirteen instead of three to ten,” he continued. Sighing, he flopped down into a chair, slowly stretching. “I think that there are a couple that will have all of the information we need in their diaries though.” “Which ones do you think that we should pull?” Alendra asked. She stood to start rearranging the books that she had been going through for their project, intent on focusing on Jillian’s and her husband’s journals. “Might try Curtis and his wife. It looked as if they seemed rather paranoid after the death of their first daughter, so they took to recording everything from what I was able to learn by reading them. And Kendal and her husband. They were shot while out on the property, so it might be that they had an idea who was after them. I really want to know why they’re forcing us to figure all of this shit out.” Kyle groaned as he let his head drop onto the table. “I think it might be because once we’re free, we’ll be writing essays about each of the cases and telling their stories,” Alendra mused. She smiled at her friend. “Alexander has been taking so much video for his Youtube channel that he’ll have enough for something like eight or nine videos minimum. And that’s just talking about the basics. You have your blog and professional essays that have been getting published. And I have a history book that I’ve been playing with lately. Us writing this will hopefully allow them to rest.” “Right. As long as we can actually figure all of this shit out,” Kyle drawled. The two shared a small smile before going to gather the journals that they figured would help them with their case.
  12. The door had been nailed shut and hidden behind a new wall for a reason. And for a very good reason as he was finding out. He stared at the bodies that were piled on the floor, making him swallow the bile that was working its way up his throat. “Houses upon houses. Cemeteries and funeral homes. All of that and never once have I seen something like this,” Alex groaned. Brian gagged before the spun around and staggered out of the room that they had just found while pulling down wallpaper. They had officially gotten the keys a week ago and had started to rip things out or up, wanting to get everything ready so that they could move in. Start work without having to worry about renovations on top of everything else. “Well, I’m guessing this is where they stored the victims that fed that thing,” he called from the living room as the window protested being shoved open. Alex swallowed again, rubbing his lips as he followed his partner. “Yep. That was disgusting,” he said as he flopped down to sit next to Brian. His lover was leaning out of one of the few screen-free windows. “That’s one way of describing it. How many bodies do you think there are in there?” Brian asked, pulling back to look at Alex. Alex sighed and rubbed at his face. “A dozen. At the very least,” he finally said, pulling out his phone and dialing the one detective that they all trusted. “Hey, Kran. I got an issue with my new house...No. More like a dozen or more bodies, some rather…” He wrinkled his nose at the thought of the room. “Fresh is a good word.” He stopped and let the man curse up a blue streak, smirking. “Yeah. I suggest that you get a few dozen biohazard bags, someone used to dealing with gooey bodies and nasty situations, and a lot of SD cards for the cameras,” he drawled. He listened as Kran asked something, Brian tilting his head, catching the words. “It’s not as if we’re sleeping here right now. Too much work to do. We haven’t even gotten into the kitchen and some of the plumbing still needs to be taken care of,” he replied. Alex relayed that answer for him. “I take it that we’re going to be stuck in the apartment for a while longer?” he asked once Alex had given Kran the address and hung up. “Just for about a week or so longer if I’m thinking right. Since we know how the house worked for so long between our research into it and what the past owners who escaped have said, it’s likely they’ll exam the bodies. But in the long run it’ll be stated that the victims were sacrifices,” Alex said, rubbing at his face. “I don’t think I want to remember that room either. We’ll have to make sure that Brinda doesn’t get to it until we’ve cleaned, bleached and drenched that room in holy water.” Brian groaned. “I’m just glad that I do have my experience with dead bodies,” he said, rubbing at his face. “And some nasty shit at that.” “Yeah, working in a morgue is like that. You tend to see the worse of the worse come in, alongside with the saddest,” Alex replied. He reached out to pat the back of Brian’s calf. “Go ahead and move our shit into the garage. When we’re allowed back in, I want it here and ready for us. I’ll make sure to go get industrial strength cleaners and holy water for that room. And full body suits for us.” He rubbed at his head. “I’m kind of surprised that we didn’t catch that room when going through.” “Did you see the wallboard that we had to pull off? It’s only because you hate wallpaper so much that we found out that it was there and that it wasn’t natural to the house,” Brian said, sitting next to his boyfriend. “Not to mention that it holds the bodies of the demon’s victims. You think that they got free of his hold?” he asked. Alex tilted his head back to rest against the wall. “Yeah. I think that when we cut the ties that were holding it here, feeding it, it’s hold on the souls would have been broken along with it’s connections. Now it’s just a matter of getting any lingering souls to leave or give us enough information for them to leave knowing that whoever gave them over will get their ass kicked. If the idiots aren’t already dead,” he said. “I’m hoping that I can get to do that soon to be truthful. I’ll be calling in Marrian and have her talk to them after another blessing sweep. It should calm them down enough for her to do it without getting overwhelmed.” Brian huffed out a laugh before he nodded as the sound of a van pulling up to the curb came through the window. Twisting around to look out of the window, he saw that it was just one of the three forensic vans and a plain clothes cop car. “They’re here,” he said, pushing to stand up. Alex grunted and pushed himself off the floor to, heading out to meet Kran and the others. Alex was far from surprised to find that Kran had printed out the blueprints of the house from the day that it had been built until the present-day layout. With the blueprints, they were able to find two more rooms that had been hidden. One was more of a storage room: Alex threatened to sue if the items were removed until he had time to cleanse them properly and find out if they needed to be returned. The other room was a ritual room. One of the newbies were sent to collect the evidence within and take pictures with his mentor carefully watching over him. Three hours later and the teams were nearly done with their collecting. They were down to scraping the walls and floor for whatever bits they could take up without compromising any evidence. Alex and Brian locked up the house after they had packed up, leaving the cleaning supplies and their building supplies they were using to fix things up in the garage. They then locked the garage down and armed the alarm. Alex muttered and complained about having to buy a power washer to get all the blood cleaned up in the rooms, just glad that they were sealed concrete. Brian mused as he loaded up their truck that the body room had probably been the laundry room at one time since their current one was right above it. His lover groaned and made him drive them back to their apartment so he could rent a high-powered power washer in a few weeks. Kran shook his head, got into his own car, and headed back to his station. He told his partner that he had to find friends who didn’t create new paperwork for him nearly every time that they saw each other.
  13. So...a quick update while I take a break from editing and creating this Hellsing Ultimate Word Crawl... If you've noticed, on your end, The Roads That We Explore is sitting at chapter 4. Why? Well....Mostly because I'm holding onto the rest while I finish off their edits. I'm setting them up to post from October 25th at 3PM to October 31st at 3PM. I just set up story 7 and will be editing story 8, 9, 10 and 11 in the coming days. Next story to be worried about will be my holiday stories. I have 2 stories. One will be posted for the Month of Christmas. December 1st until December 31st. At, as usual, 3PM. That means I'll be writing it, rewriting it, and editing it in November. I'm going to try starting it this month but I have a few other things I need to finish. Seriously. Need to. And this word crawl is just one of them. Anyone want to edit my fluff for me? I'll probably ask in the Writers Club soon but still. Okay. To tell you about the crawl: It is Hellsing Ultimate anime themed word crawl and it is going to be long. It's all episode base, and each episode is an hour long. The crawl will take a while to get done since I have timed attacks, timed word attacks, Hydras (if you don't know what that is, look up 50 Headed Hydra in the Nano Forums and shudder in horror. I've done those. They scare me.), D6 rolls of various kinds and various other word goals. I'm going to make people cry. It'll be fun. For me. And yes, I'll be doing it myself. I'm going to run it while I'm on Year of the Novel discord (invite is available but be warned: we're not exactly the sanest group of people) and I'll be running word wars on there to. It'll be fun. Now, I need to go prepare for episode 2 and getting things ready for November. *groans*
  14. “Are you sure about this, Brandly?” Detective Brandly looked up from where he had been working with the desktop of one of the missing college students. Two weeks before, they had gone missing and no one had any idea of where they were. Detective Kran, Brandly’s partner, raised an eyebrow at him with a smile. “Yeah, I am,” Brandly replied. “We don’t have any fucking knowledge as to where they are. Their phones aren’t popping up, their GPS doesn’t show, and the only communications that we can get at a quick enough point is their computers. We’re rather lucky that Mrs. Kandra allowed us to look at her son’s computer. I learned that all students in their history class has forums to connect with others for their schoolwork. The teacher will set up the group subsections and allows them to assign their own names as long as he knows them.” Kran took a seat next to his partner, watching as Brandly turned on the computer and typed in the password that their techs had found in a locked booklet in the dorm room. Watching as the screen loaded, they stared in surprise at the multitude of files that sat on one side of the screen. “Are there any flash drives, memory cards, or something like that?” he asked. Brandly pointed to a small blue box to the side. “That is an external drive. They found three of them. One is labeled movies and looks like movies that she downloaded from various services. One is labeled book slash research. And the last one is labeled schoolwork. That one there is the schoolwork one. It seems as if he was seriously paranoid about anything getting lost or needing it for future use. He made copies of everything that he’s done since middle school. His mother said that since he started college that he would bring his in-use ones’ home and transfer the semester’s files to his larger one. If he had a need for a file, he was able to access it remotely.” Kran blinked at that. Brandly smirked, opening the forum app that he had been told to look for, finding it already logged in. Finding the right forum, he sorted it so that it would go in order from oldest to newest. The first subject was ‘What to write about’ and created by Kyle. Opening the subject, he found that it started with Kyle listing subjects that they could choose from and asking what the others wanted to focus on. The resulting conversation was all about the pro’s and con’s of each subject before they decided to do their mid-term report on myths and legends on the city. “It looks like they decided to do myths and legends of the city and start with that one estate way out there,” Kran mused. “See? Alendra talks about what she knows about the Estate. A lot of murders and sudden deaths. They all agreed that starting there would be a good idea,” he said. Brandly nodded his head, looking for the next forum post, which was just a general talk forum. They scanned through the posts, finally finding what they were hoping the kids had talked about. “Shit. They went to the estate,” he said, frowning softly at the screen. “You don’t think that they actually did go there right?” he asked. “I think they did,” Kran sighed, his eyes running over the decision that they had come to and the plans. There was a link that moved the conversation to it talking about the trip and found the details they needed. “They did tell their friends that they were going to be gone for about four days, remember? Two days traveling, two days there for their recording and research,” Brandly read. Kran made notes. “Let’s see. They were going to take two vehicles: Alendra’s car and Alexander’s truck. Alendra would hold her, Maria, and Richard, along with three of their coolers, a lot of water and other drinks. Most of it in her trunk. Alexander would have him and Kyle in his truck, enough food to last more than just the four days, even more water, enough wood to last for a month, their camping gear and more clothes. They planned this out.” “Didn’t Mr. Krin say that his son, Kyle Krin, had an appetite because of his active lifestyle?” Kran asked. Brandly looked at his notes and nodded. “So, they were planning to feed a lot of hungry adults barely out of their teens,” he said. He shook his head. “At least they were prepared. But we still haven’t found a damn thing about them so far. And now we know why there are no leads. I suppose that we’re going to have to our own ghost town and check it out. They were talkin’ about staying on the estate land as their home base and hike around town. See?” He pointed at the screen at a message. “They have some generators to recharge the off-road electric boards that a few of them bought and their equipment batteries. They made damn well and sure that they had everything for at least two weeks as a safety precaution.” Kran hummed, standing from the desk. “Welp, looks like I’m going to check out a car. I’ll fill the tank and get my cooler to. This is going to be a long ass trip. I’ll also talk to the chief and warn him that we’re heading out that way,” he said. Brandly grunted and started to get the forum printed out in full, finding a few large, empty binders. “I’ll go get these ready so that we can go over them while we’re on the road,” he said. “Make sure that you have bullets and extras for your gun. Just in case,” he instructed. Kran nodded. They split up and headed for their own jobs. Brandly continued to print out each forum post, punching holes into the pages using their extra large three hole puncher and putting the pages into binders. With laptops packed into their bags, he met Kran at the car, putting Kran’s into the back. Kran held up the detective card that they could use for their gas while they drove and a hotel room overnight. They knew the history and the legends. Knew about the old cases that were connected to the estate. They silently wondered if they were walking into a bloodbath or not.
  15. They knew who they were to go after. They could still remember every moment of staring at him as they killed them. They could feel him, tied to him in ways that only Victim and Murderer could be. One such spirit was staring at him, having found him once more and settled into a corner to watch him. She was waiting for her fellow Victims to arrive. Her hand came to rest around her neck, feeling the odd way that her head was able to move. She could remember that she had been strangled. Two of the other Victims had been tied down and slowly cut open until they bled out as sacrifices. Three other Victims had been hung upside down and had their throats sliced so that he could gather their blood. Those three had ended up stuck, watching as he removed their heads and hands to make sure that every bit of blood that could would drip out of their bodies while hanging. She could only guess what kind of anger and anguish that had caused them having to watch it. They had been found quickly enough by the Original Victims and brought to the rest of them after he left, disposing of their bodies. They all knew where they were buried and were just waiting to find someone who could speak with them so that they could be found and buried properly. She was one of the ten out of fifteen victims that didn’t know where their bodies were. They thought they were in the same area, but not for sure. She had tried once to find it by going along the connection she still had with her body and all she could feel was cool, wet soil. She was almost sure that she was buried in the same area as the others though. She could feel them. She turned back to the man as he sprawled out on the bed, his body glistening with sweat as his hand worked over his own cock, eyes glued to the porn on the TV. She sneered in disgust at the sight, wanting to do nothing more than to grasp the penis and rip it off before he shoved it down his throat. But she hadn’t been able to. He was protected by something stronger than them, but they had already been promised that eventually he would slip up and they would be able to get their revenge. A fellow spirit, one who was old, from the time that the Native American tribes wandered America and those from other countries had set foot on the land, had been the one to promise them that. He told them that he had seen tribes who had gotten their revenge on those who had killed them. It had not been a pretty sight, and it had been as if they had gained the Blessing of the Gods to tear apart those who had ended their lives. The man had gone back to his home that had a museum standing on the land that he had called his, watching over things while there. A few of the Victims had since gone to speak with the man themselves, coming back with more stories, comparing it to what the Originals had told them. But for now, she was watching and waiting from her corner that they claimed as theirs once they had found the home. It was a small home and one of a dozen that he used, but it was the one that he returned to the most often. Mostly whenever he wasn’t working on killing more of them and trying to gather the power to open the door. Sighing, the puff of breath a cold mist that floats before her face, she gagged as he grunted, spilling over his hand as the climax of the movie happened. “Disgusting,” she sneered. She was unsurprised when he bounced out of bed like he hadn’t spent the last hour working himself off. He never paid any attention to anything but himself unless he was working. Then he was meticulous in setting down protections and opening himself up to the spiritual world. Not that they could truly do much beyond stare at him, just waiting for the moment that he fucked up. She followed him into the bathroom and watched as he started his shower. She eyed it before floating closer, her broken neck cracking as she turned her head, finding that the idiot had a slip up. He hadn’t marked one of the walls well enough. While she wouldn’t be able to attack him personally, not with his marks and bracelets, but she could touch the pipes within the walls. Her smirk spread over her face as she reached out, carefully making sure that she wouldn’t get stuck by touching a mark and waited until their murderer had stepped under the hot spray of water. They all knew that he hated the cold in any form and loved hot showers or baths. If he could get away with it, he didn’t take lukewarm showers or baths, even if he was staying at the home of his family. He would always find a way to make it as hot as he could stand to have it. Waiting until he was fully relaxed under the spray, she grasped the pipe and pushed as much cold into it that she had the power to do it. It turned the water freezing cold, but she also made sure she didn’t burst the pipe while making the water cold. She may hate the man, but she didn’t hold any anger to the landlord. The lady was nice and had to deal with other things. The screech of surprise as he tried to scramble back from the sudden needles of freezing cold that hit him. He slipped and slammed into the wall before falling onto his ass as the freezing cold water continued to rain down on him. Enjoying the bit of petty revenge for a few moments, she finally pulled away, finding that she was a bit tired. Breathing out a breath as the water started to warm and fall on the shivering man, she floated away from the shower and settled back into the shadows that wrapped around her like a blanket. Cradled by them, she settled back in to rest and wait for the man to come out. Maybe when the others came to take her place, she would be able to share this story of what happened, but currently all she wanted was to rest. He wouldn’t be going anywhere that they didn’t know about. Not yet. After all, he had to be a good little boy for the public and not end up disappearing or moving suddenly. That would bring to much attention to him which would be bad in all aspects.
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