The Girl With Black Hair
  • Reads 67
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  • Parts 1
  • Time <5 mins
  • Reads 67
  • Votes 1
  • Parts 1
  • Time <5 mins
Ongoing, First published Dec 16, 2014
She appeared to me in my sleep the girl with black hair her voice filled with pain and frustration "what are you doing here"? she said she then added "you gotta get out of here or he'll keep you here to" I stared at her my eyes filled with terror "get out of where?, where am I?" Was all Veronica could say her voice sounding scared and confused  "You're in the place of evil where they take your soul and imprison you here forever now go before he takes yours to"&nbsp;

       Veronica looked around at her surroundings taking it all in, the place was magnificent there was roses everywhere rows and rows of them there was an archway of them in the far distance before she could say anything she hears thumping, as panic rose through her the sound came closer and closer by the second she looked at the girl and asked "who's that?" Soon regretting it the girl said "it's the soul snatcher now go leave now hurry" 

Veronica tried to leave but she couldn't she was stuck there for eternity "you're mine now" said the soul snatcher Veronica turned around and the last thing she saw was a hug mouth with razor sharp teeth smiling down at her viciously.
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Hell's queen cover
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The Contract

28 parts Complete Mature

Something didn't feel right. I looked around my room slowly; cautiously; taking everything in and trying not to feel too nervous. Perhaps Lure was in my room right now, watching me, silently laughing to himself. I didn't doubt it. I slipped off my bed and walked around, hugging my waist, and tilted my head. I felt my rough ponytail slide against the back of my neck and over my shoulder as I moved. "Lure?" I hissed, "Lure, are you there?" I wandered around a little, for some reason feeling scared. But why? It was only Lure. He wouldn't hurt me, would he? "Okay, Lure. Quit it. I know it's you. Who else would it-" I stopped, startled, when I heard a strange sound that made me cringe. It was like fingernails being dragged across a chalkboard. I whipped around and came face-to-face with my mirror. Immediately, I saw the difference. Various scratches were displayed across the glass, forming words. It looked as if claws had written the words in the mirror. "Deepest apologies, but it was fun." (All credit goes to my sister, who wrote this when she was in the twelfth grade)