Black Candle Women Novels & Stories

I watch the woman my brothers tell me I loved. The One. That’s what my journal tells me. Lillian Blackwood is my one. The problem is I can’t remember her. Not a single thing. All the descriptions I wrote about her don’t do her justice. Even while I watch her breakdown. While I watch my brother comforts her, over a dog named Benny. She’s still incredibly beautiful. “Are you willing to let that go?” Dylan asks as he watches the commotion in front of us.

TW-RAPE (not a scene just a mention) “The Black Hunter strikes us once yet again leaving a gruesome mess in the house of the murdered. Despite being a messy murderer, not a trace of DNA can be found. Careful. Whoever he is, what does he want and why has he targeted these specific targets?” He. They always assume I'm a man but whose to tell them that it's a woman killing multiple men and women. Pure sexism in the 21st century. As the saying goes ‘Some women fear the fire while some women simply become it’. I am the fire that burns enraging the wrath and vengeance that runs in my veins but there is a twist.

“I don’t go every week myself. It’s more Helena and Christine’s scene. I have another thing that I like to do. Maybe it’s more your type of thing.” “Oh?” They stood and got off at the stop just down from the school and linked arms to keep warm and hold each other steady as they made their way back towards the school, pausing only to light their cigarettes. Bianca blew out a cloud of smoke. “Yeah, it’s like a women’s circle. It will probably seem weird to you, but my mother and grandmother were big on that sort of thing. My grandma says that men call it witchcraft because it gives them the excuse to stop women from continuing to be the holders of ancient knowledge about herbcraft, childbirth,

The silence of waiting. Hundreds of candles burned without flickering, illuminating a vast circular hall carved from black stone. Pillars rose like the trunks of ancient trees, disappearing into darkness high above. Banners bearing the crest of the First Bloodline hung motionless from the walls. At the center of the chamber stood a throne unlike any crafted by human hands. It was carved from obsidian, polished until it reflected the candlelight like still water. Upon it sat a woman. She looked no older than twenty-five.

A soft-spoken word, a flash of flame, a single candle was lit. The pale circle of light showed three women, all robed in black. They moved about the circle, lighting candles as they went. One at each cardinal point, they called to the elements. The three witches moved with a comfortable ease with each other, calling up power from the earth. They had practiced together for many a year now and knew the feel of each other's gifts. One girl was a fair skinned lass with thick red head. She lit the candle of south, a welling passion of thought and lust. The girl of water was paler still and had dark hair, long and curled. The third was of earth, long raven black hair, the skin a deep caramel, eyes

The air inside was colder than the hallway and smelled like smoke, dried roses, wet earth, and something metallic beneath it all. Blood. Always blood. I stepped inside. The room lit itself. One candle at a time. Flames flared along the walls in silver-white bursts, revealing portraits. Dozens of them. Women. All women. Some young. Some old. Some crowned. Some barefoot in torn dresses. Some with wolves kneeling at their feet. Some with blood on their hands. Every woman had silver eyes. My breath caught. Damien stepped in behind me. The door stayed open. Small mercy.

Due to that, he hobbled around, nearly as good as crippled. Resentment simmered between them: Sean with his grudges, Rowena with her cold shoulder. Nancy confided in me that the pair, though housemates, were at each other's throats daily, stirring up a racket that could wake the dead. The stillborn they brought home did not last long before it decayed, swarming with maggots, filling the house with a stench worse than a sewer. Rowena's grip on sanity started to slip, her days filled with wild outbursts. A video of one such episode, self-recorded, went viral and, bizarrely, turned a profit.

she said pointing towards a shelf with just a few candles "Can you see those two candles that are very close to each other?" She asked I and Nath both nodded in unison "Those candles belong to you and your mate Nathaniel" she said I looked at Nath with confusion in my eyes and he looked at me the same way One of the candle is lit with a tongue of black smoke and the other is lit with a tongue of white smoke Madam Debua saw the confusion in our faces then she explained "The candle lit with black smoke belongs to Nathaniel he is ripper, meaning that he can manipulate the fears of people... he can also bring their fears to life and it's properties while the other one with the white smoke belong

A cold pressure suddenly filled the council room. The candles flickered violently while dark smoke slowly spread beneath the doors and windows. “Everyone stay alert,” Rylan ordered immediately. Warriors moved forward while Maya quickly backed away from the center of the room. The smoke gathered together slowly near the middle of the council room. Then a woman appeared from the darkness. Tall. Pale. Dressed completely in black. Silver markings covered parts of her neck and hands while her cold eyes moved calmly across the room. She looked completely relaxed despite standing inside an enemy territory surrounded by wolves, witches, and vampires.