Another Head Hangs Lowly Novels & Stories

Diego: I watched as they hung Stefano’s head on a stake, putting it to rot where I knew Bartolomeo’s head was hanging. His head had been removed a while ago, but the stake’s hole was there. “Anything else that you intend to demand, Alpha?” Zenith asked, walking toward me. His eyes were hard as he watched Lea looking at the hanging head. Her father’s was put in a box. “The fact that you know that I am your Alpha is nice to hear.” I said, putting a hand on his shoulder. He looked at my hand, and though he knew to submit to me, I could see the hate in his eyes.

I said, my gaze locked on hers. But as the moon climbed higher, fat clouds gathered on the horizon, grumbling with thunder. The air grew heavy, electric. "Storm's coming," Mr. Hang announced, eyeing the sky. "Best get the little ones under cover." The pack scrambled, erecting tents and awnings, but the first drops fell—fat and warm, a summer deluge that turned the ground to mud in moments.

By the time I'd reviewed my teacher's notes, it had plummeted to 1280. I tapped my phone, pulling up the feed from the pinhole camera I'd hidden in her room. She was freaking out. "Why is it dropping so fast? I knew she was lying! She said she wasn't studying, but she's obviously grinding right now. Why doesn't she believe the score?!" A cold, unfamiliar voice answered her. "Why are you panicking? Once it drops below 1000, it'll detonate right on top of her. Studying is basically a death wish."

Marcus The moon hung low in the sky, a thin crescent barely visible through the clouds that lingered like dark secrets in the night. The rogue encampment was quiet, too quiet, as if the very earth was holding its breath. It was the calm before the storm—the calm before everything changed.

Technically speaking, no one knew who I was yet. The young man stiffened as if he had been exposed, and his ears turned scarlet. "It's fine. Just do a good job. That's the most important thing." The elevator had reached the top floor, and I was amused to see the young man still staring dazedly at me. "You know, I'm in need of an assistant—" "I can do it! I'll be a great assistant!" the young man cried out, his cheeks still flushed with embarrassment. There was some kind of naivete about him.

Master Greendrake, for one, was the main culprit of this thought. For one, though Master Greendrake had said that he didn’t know the secrets of the seventy-two mounds, he seemed to have a rather good understanding of this place. That aside, according to Finnley, the headless general was a corpse that had turned into a devil. Master Greendrake should know this much, yet in the end, he still led so many experts over and even got them to prepare angelic formations to deal with the headless general.

But the card has already said what it needed to say. I glance up at him. “This one’s you,” I say quietly. Kieran says nothing. I reach for the second card. The Hanged Man. The figure hangs suspended from the wooden beam, one leg crossed behind the other, head tilted in strange calm. For a moment it looks the way it always has. Then the shape of the body shifts. The shoulders broaden. The posture becomes familiar. The face remains hidden in shadow, but I don’t need to see it. The card isn’t showing a stranger.

The ‘revived’ Wind Demons moved towards Red Rose with blank expressions – at least, the one that still its head screwed on tight. The Wind Demon which had its head cleanly knocked off was moving without a head while the one that had its neck shattered was jogging gallantly with its head hanging to its side. It did not look bothered in any way. As for the other two that were unharmed thus far, talking about them was unnecessary. They were obviously good enough to fight.

The pavement flew up to meet her face, and the smack of her head silenced her thoughts. The world swayed in a strange, bobbing rhythm as Sidney resurfaced. She came into her head first, throbbing slow and heavy. Then, as her awareness spread down her body, she felt something pressing hard into her abdomen, smashing her organs. Her neck whined in a stretch, and she realized her head was dangling and rocking side to side. Her fingertips tingled as they hung long and lifeless past her hanging hair. When she finally managed to open her eyes, she made out the blurred shapes of Tony’s shoes walking beneath her.

I took the male leads as I was still the only male in choir. “Off with your head…D-dance-dance-dance 'til you're dead…O-off-off-off with your head…D-dance-dance-dance 'til you're dead….O-off-off-off with your head…… It's close to midnight…And something evil's lurking in the dark…Under the moonlight…You see a sight that almost stops your heart…You try to scream…But terror takes the sound before you make it (Heads will roll, heads will roll)…You start to freeze…As horror looks you right between the eyes…You're paralyzed…… 'Cause this is thriller, thriller night…And no one's gonna save you from the beast about to strike…You know it's thriller, thriller night…You're fighting for your life inside