Another Head Hangs Lowly Novels & Stories

As she walked in, she could see blood splattered everywhere. In the middle of the room, a man was hung by two chains holding his hands apart. His legs were also chained to the ground, positioning him in a crucifix fashion. His head hung low as though he had expired but his chest said otherwise. He still heaved, an evidence that he was still alive and breathing. Only that his breathing was laborious and rather slow.

An eerie silence fills the room and the only thing that alters it is the heavy panting of the fool that kneels in the pool of his own blood. His hands are untied but they lay useless by his sides. Platter sounds accompany his panting as I stalk towards him, I try not to look at my pants cause I already know the state of it. I hate to get messy when I handle situations like this but I have no choice when it comes to traitors like this. He groans in pain when I pull his hanging head up by his blood coated hair.

The High Gods below all showed expressions of delight—especially Hodr, whose unfocused eyes curved into a smile, his usually cold features suddenly becoming almost endearing. *]:pointer-events-auto scroll-mt-[calc(var(--header-height)+min(200px,max(70px,20svh)))]" dir="auto" data-turn-id="request-WEB:244cc9f1-3cfe-4916-870e-a656305a4df5-78" data-testid="conversation-turn-158" data-scroll-anchor="true" data-turn="assistant">

All black men are not, I repeat, NOT hung. This black man was not hung. Draven was not very large at all. In fact, he was somewhat small. As my hand held it, only about half of the cóck head was still sticking out the top of my fist. Draven was just over five inches long. I smiled at him and slowly began to jerk him off. "You have a nice cóck, Draven. It's so dark and big," I lied.

I look at my shirt and then back at me, with my head still hung low. "Take out your pants too", he says, and I stare at him for a second. What has got into his head? I stand in my boxer reaching till my mid thigh, head hung low while cheeks burning red with the humiliation while his petrifying gaze does not leave my exposed self alone. What he wants and why is he doing it was hard to tell as my knees wobbles ready to collapse anytime soon.

She craned her long, thin neck, humming a high-pitched, beautiful tune that echoed in the cavern like an ancient war horn. Soon, I felt the cave shaking, and a black silhouette slowly floated out of the cavern entrance. Its blood-red eyes stared at Mary once before turning towards me, and soon he turned towards me and lowered his head like Dicken did—just like a dutiful minister’s gesture of respect to his king.

My middle school and high school crush. “Can you stop embarrassing yourself." Jesse is on the bed trying to pull him away from me. “Wake up you deadbeat." Anderson finally opens his eyes. He groans and pushes his hair backwards. He's hotter than when I last saw him, during our graduation. He's hair is grown and his eyes seem a little bit brighter. “What's with all the ruckus? I'm sleepy." “Or hungover," some dude I didn't see yesterday snorts. “Definitely hungover." The others concur.

We were in Dawn's blue Honda civic, a hand me down from her mom, Neenee. I called Dawn's mom 'Neenee' because when we were younger I couldn't say Genie, her moms name, but as we got older the name kind of stuck so now if I try to call her by her real name everyone, including myself, just get weirded out, and so, she's my Neenee. My second mom, and my mom's best friend. Every time we went out together, people just generally thought I was Neenee's daughter which wasn't just because she was old enough to me my mother but because like me, she was also pale with ginger hair soft features, but her eyes were blue.

He gestured for Chantelle to follow him as he used his phone's weak backlight to feel his way toward the passage exit. Just as they neared the entrance, his hand suddenly touched a mass of hair. At first, Andrew thought it belonged to Chantelle, but when he turned around, he saw a large clump of hair hanging between them as well. Chantelle covered her mouth tightly to prevent herself from screaming while pointing frantically upward. Andrew did not need her signal to understand the situation—he slowly looked up to see a grotesque face with no pupils and a twisted neck hanging less than three feet above their heads.

Her sore neck slowly tilted to the upper side, a cracking sound, like a bone snapped was clear as the dawn outside of the greenhouse. There, just how clear her vision could ever be, a skinny woman posture like animal that stands on four leg was hanging up there, with her hair filled with dirt and tangling to each other hanging upside down. Her arm that abnormally twist, broken bone under her skin. Kaylene's breathe stuck, as she was struck with the shocked view.