Humans Are The Real Monsters

Humans Are The Real Monsters

  • WpView
    Leituras 727
  • WpVote
    Votos 148
  • WpPart
    Capítulos 8
WpMetadataReadMaduroEm andamento11m
WpMetadataNoticeÚltima atualização dom, abr 10, 2022
My first book of dark poetry. A tribute to all things that go bump in the night - tip of the hat to all things paranormal. Inspired by dark fairy tales and horror movies.
Todos os Direitos Reservados
Junte-se a maior comunidade de histórias do mundoTenha recomendações personalizadas, guarde as suas histórias favoritas na sua biblioteca e comente e vote para expandir a sua comunidade.
Illustration

Talvez você também goste

  • The Reaper Saga [Book 1-3]
  • 𝕋𝕙𝕖 ℂ𝕣𝕖𝕖𝕡𝕪 ℂ𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟
  • 𝐒𝐂𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐄
  • Fated || 1
  • Dark Attraction
  • Poems of the Deathly Romantics
  • Poetry of Death
  • Dark Stories And Poems
  • Reaper's Pet
  • The Reaper's Curse (unpublished)

[BUNDLE] BOOK 1: There's a reason buried things should always stay buried. For better or for worse. To have and to hold a demon for eternity. She says demons haunt the night, inflecting everything in their path. But where I come from demons don't just lurk around the shadows. They breed in your head. Feasting on your soul until you cease to exist. And, mine just woke up infested in wicked lies. Till death do us apart, little soul. BOOK 2: Girls like them are expected to dance to the tune of evil. To smile with the taste of souls in their veins and vengeance in their hearts. To feed the ghosts and the monsters within them. Discarded by the world and hidden in a maze of twisted creatures, I'm barely holding into my sanity, trapped between the past and the present. Between good and evil. Until one day I no longer recognize myself or them. He says he can see beyond the evil that I am. But it's not him that my madness prevails for or HIM. Because I'm starting to hear their tune, dancing to destruction and chaos. BOOK 3: There's a reason buried things should always stay buried. Like my mistakes. Your past. Now the grave is open and corpses are crawling out. Corpses inflicted with lies and betrayals. Corpses that you pull the strings of, corpses that even Hell is afraid to take. You see, little soul, you think that makes you the monster in our story. But you forgot me. You forgot my promise. Our story might have ended with till death do us apart. But even death has a shadow to lose.

Mais detalhes
WpActionLinkDiretrizes de Conteúdo