Aphella

Reads 36
Votes 0
Parts 9
Time 22m

Reads 36
Votes 0
Parts 9
Time 22m

Mature

One of my Headspace mates who is a king! He has gone through a few wars tho.... ^^ but yeah you'll see how that went in a few... uh months.... (Maybe, probably not)All Rights Reserved

horror poetry romance

Table of contents

9 parts

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A fucking mess of poems dead stories by amberandshadow

FINISHED AND COMPLEATED. Just poems, I suppose. Or maybe a scrapbook of scars. A chaotic collage of half-born stories, abandoned plots, and feelings too loud to ignore. This isn't a novel. It's a graveyard of unwritten books- stitched together with ink and impulse. A little trauma here, a little heartbreak there. Addiction. Bad parents. Dangerous love. The usual mess. I never claimed to be a poet, but pain has a way of teaching rhythm. And when the stories in my head refused to become chapters, they became verses instead. My father? A ghost in flesh. A man who cradled needles more tenderly than he ever held me. He is an addict. A lover of oblivion. And I, the daughter left behind in the smoke of his escape. Does that make me a girl with "daddy issues"? Or just a girl still learning how not to bleed from wounds she didn't choose? This book is for the overthinkers, the almost-authors, the ones who feel too much and write too little- until the words finally spill out like blood on the page. Welcome to the ride. There's no exit. But there's poetry in the wreckage. Author's Note I didn't set out to write a book. I set out to survive my own mind. This is what happens when you have too many stories, too many ghosts, and not enough discipline to finish a single novel. So instead, I wrote poems- or something like them. Fragments. Feelings. Flashbacks. A scrapbook of the soul. Some of these pieces are fiction. Some are memory. Some are just what happens when you stare at the ceiling too long and let your thoughts rot into poetry. If you've ever had a thousand ideas and no idea where to start- if you've ever felt too broken to write but too full not to- this is for you. Thanks for riding with me. There's no map. No neat ending. Just the wreckage, and the words we make from it.

You're untamed. He's a vampire, the King of Monsters. What happens when you're mated to literal death? +16

I squeezed my eyes shut waiting for pain but nothing happen. He froze smelling me. He pulled away with his eyes wide. He looked my over in shock and I looked at him confused. What was going on? "It's you" he stated. "You're the one"

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Sold to a Cursed Alpha King. by KazeemAteeyat

Iris's life has been a never-ending nightmare. After her mother's death, her father, Kyle, married Chantel, and together they made Iris's life a living hell. Forced to do all the housework in her own home, Iris dreams of freedom-until her father's desperate quest for wealth leads him to a dangerous deal with the Alpha King of the supernatural realm, Demonic. In exchange for riches, Kyle offers his daughter to Demonic as his mate. But Demonic is cursed by an ancient witch-unable to love, forever bound by his destiny. When he smells Iris, he realizes she is his fated mate. Trapped between two worlds, Iris is torn between anger and desire. As she's pulled deeper into Demonic's world, she finds herself questioning everything she's known. Can love break a curse? Or will they both be consumed by the darkness that haunts them?

$The King With Blood On His Name {COMPLETED} by Cyb3r_G$

After a bad war, the kingdom of riverflood was trying hard to scramble to their feet. When their king Apollo had a flower parasite that injected from his right eye, the kingdom worried if their king is dying. For as the flower didn't bother him, and it is fairly friendly, it only bothered is eye sight. Still the kingdom was scared that one day the flower would end up killing him in the end. With him being the only Arkan left, what would become of the Arkan throne? Without him being married and of no son to take over his spot, what would bece of the little kingdom? To only add to their troubles, word had been going around that a prisoner of war had gotten lose. No matter what, she couldn't get away. She was captured again and brought to the Kings heed. Instead of killing her outright, he bought her life and turned her into a maid. She gets along great with all the other workers. Well almost all of them. Because she wasn't from their kingdom, most avoided talking to her. While she loved staying at the castle, she didn't like one part. Her feelings. While staying at the castle, she began to fall for the cold yet charming king Apollo. What will happen when she finds out that one night between the two, could end up changing their life's forever? Guess you're going to have to read to find out! Finished: march 29, 2017 Edit finished:

Siren's Tale (On Hold) by DarkSerenity02

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What do you do when you're staring death incarnate in the eye? Run? Scream? Beg for mercy? Or maybe, just maybe, fight back? I'm sure you wouldn't throw yourself into his arms and let him devour you until you're lost to everything you once knew about yourself. It was a mistake to summon a vampire. And then, I went on to fall in love with one. I pretty much complicated my entire life. But, if I can have him, everything is worth it.

"I never wanted this!" I scream, tears streaming down my eyes. He kisses my neck, muttering sweet things to me, but I ignore him. "I wanted to live a normal life. But no, guess what, I had to be the mate of the freaking vampire prince! Yay!" His body tenses behind me, and I realize what I said. I turn back to apologize, to tell him that's not what I meant, but he stops me. "If that's how you feel." He whispers, walking away before I can blink. - Sadistic: that's what everyone thinks of Ava. She enjoys watching people suffer. The way the squirm and beg for mercy, it probably turns her on. Though, what happens when she has to save lives, not take them away? It's not saving lives like Superman does, it's way more intense. Did she see that coming? No. Does life care? Not at all. In fact, it's throwing her in front of a bus (literally). One secret demands poor Ava to bend all of her morals, and change herself completely. Forever's going to take longer than expected. Warning: Cursing is frequent.

Forced to marry a king that I've never heard of or met has me in whirlwind.My gut says not to worry at all. My brain tells me otherwise. An then there's the promise I made to myself years ago. Am I to break my vow and succumb to the desire he ignites deep inside me?

A fucking mess of poems dead stories

FINISHED AND COMPLEATED. Just poems, I suppose. Or maybe a scrapbook of scars. A chaotic collage of half-born stories, abandoned plots, and feelings too loud to ignore. This isn't a novel. It's a graveyard of unwritten books- stitched together with ink and impulse. A little trauma here, a little heartbreak there. Addiction. Bad parents. Dangerous love. The usual mess. I never claimed to be a poet, but pain has a way of teaching rhythm. And when the stories in my head refused to become chapters, they became verses instead. My father? A ghost in flesh. A man who cradled needles more tenderly than he ever held me. He is an addict. A lover of oblivion. And I, the daughter left behind in the smoke of his escape. Does that make me a girl with "daddy issues"? Or just a girl still learning how not to bleed from wounds she didn't choose? This book is for the overthinkers, the almost-authors, the ones who feel too much and write too little- until the words finally spill out like blood on the page. Welcome to the ride. There's no exit. But there's poetry in the wreckage. Author's Note I didn't set out to write a book. I set out to survive my own mind. This is what happens when you have too many stories, too many ghosts, and not enough discipline to finish a single novel. So instead, I wrote poems- or something like them. Fragments. Feelings. Flashbacks. A scrapbook of the soul. Some of these pieces are fiction. Some are memory. Some are just what happens when you stare at the ceiling too long and let your thoughts rot into poetry. If you've ever had a thousand ideas and no idea where to start- if you've ever felt too broken to write but too full not to- this is for you. Thanks for riding with me. There's no map. No neat ending. Just the wreckage, and the words we make from it.

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