Black Like My Soul Novels & Stories

Tyrel could not continue what he was supposed to say until Yesha continued what he was saying. "Symbolize as death? And it symbolizes as bad luck?" Tyrel nodded while Yesha took a deep breath before she explained to Tyrel why the black color is her favourite." "Doesn't mean black symbolizes bad luck and death. We will be afraid of the color black. For me, black is like me, and black is like other people who struggle with what they are going through. What black means to me is hope. Why? Because even if you are trapped in your dark experience, darkness will call to light to give you hope of being free from all your problems. Whatever you hide in the dark, it will make its way to someone to hel

Now the history that tarnishes those two pasts is today! More tar than tar, blacker than black, darker than dark... And what was all this for? Illuminate that darkness? Of course it wasn't! It looked like that at the time, but the date to come with that signature, that is, today was the day when the sun went out and life disappeared. Today... October.. It looks good on its own, but it wasn't! It looked good for Kerem but it wasn't! It looked good in terms of iron but it wasn't! It looked good in terms of Nevra but it wasn't!

Victor wanted to reluctantly argue, blinded by what was really happening but the next second his breath hitched in utter disbelief at the sudden occurrence flashing before him. “No… No!... im... impossible! It must be the drug… you must have released the fumes in here… yes! That has to be it… this was all part of your plan… have the others distract me… while you were secretly waiting to take me out…” The agitated man reasoned; clearly in denial as he stumbled backwards pressing on the wall behind him for support, his eyes intently glued to the scene of the glitching figure several steps ahead. “I… can assure you… this is no drug… and I am… Mike Rayburn… a soul with a vengeance.”

Nothing, no scent, no sound, no sign that anyone had entered. A shaky breath escaped my lips as I clutched my pounding head. I staggered to my feet, guided only by the pale moonlight spilling through the window. My body felt like lead, weak, empty, and starving, my throat burned with dryness. I stumbled into the kitchen and drank water. I set the cup down, and that’s when it happened. A sharp, agonizing crack split through my bones, my knees buckled. No. Not again. I screamed as the shift overtook me, my bones twisting, reshaping, skin tearing. The black wolf emerged, ruthless and wild, trapping my soul behind its eyes.

Not when it was this demon in human form in front of him. "I am asking you again and for the last time,where is my money?" the other man who looked exactly like a drug lord said,while puffing carelessly on his pipe. "Give me just one month please. One more month and I promise I'll pay off my debt. Please" the older man begged. "You think i came all the way here to listen to your pleadings?" the drug lord said with a scoff. The older man, Mark,was mute. He had tried hard to pay back the debt he owed this demon standing in front of him,but things seemed to be working against him.

the leader of their council said. There was so much hatred in the way he spoke to me, and I wondered what he was talking about. "What did you find out?" I asked him. " You possessed a dark lunar magic and this has brought about some kind of darkness to our pack, we do not accept that kind of magic here and anyone who brings such to us will be punished" he said. It sounded like some lame joke, I am never with such kind of magic, what has this got to do with me?

According to him, saying his name always left an awful taste in his mouth. I didn't give a shit if my preference for black would be perceived as weird or creepy. Black represented a huge part of my soul, and reveling in it made me feel whole and at peace. I locked my door and exited down the hallway, making a mental note to revisit my lovely case with the little rabbit whenever I got bored of the summit and decided to leave. We still had unfinished business. My mouth rose as a dark smirk danced on my lips. My tongue grazed my left canine, and my eyes glinted naughtily at the thought of having her in my room.

I curled tighter on the cold marble floor, pulling my knees to my chest, the silk of the gown pooling around me like cold water, like beautiful, shimmering chains that bound me tighter than any legal clause. “I don’t want to be his,” I choked out, the words ripped from the deepest part of my soul. “Not even on paper. I don’t care what the law says. I’m still me. My spirit, my soul… he doesn’t get to own that. He can’t.” My wolf was quiet again, her presence settling into a profound, shared silence. But I knew she agreed. Her quiet understanding was a bond stronger than any ritual. Even if the world saw me as Damian Blackwood’s mate, his property, bound by his will… my soul was still mine. My

They say, life is full of colours, sometimes dull, sometimes bright but for the man waiting in that almost empty hallway, life has mostly it shown him the colour black. Dark black. How can black be dark? One might question but after looking into this lost billionaire's eyes, they would get their answer. Maybe if they look a little closely, they might also see his dark soul. Just like his soul, the colour black dominated everything in him, in his life. His soul was just as black as the clothes he wore. As it should be because life is full of colours, death is not. Death has only one colour and that is the magnificent black.

Dylan feigned a hurt expression and placed his palm over his heart. “What? Do you work with him?” Dominique questioned. Dylan smirked. He was enjoying the game, “Have you seen him?” “No, never.” Dominique gave a straight answer but a frown settled on his brows when Dylan let out a dark chuckle. “Well then hello to you. I am the psychopathic Mafia Lord you were talking about.” He asserted and flashed Dominique a small smile but that only ceased his heartbeat. “W-What? That’s not possible.” Dominique couldn’t embrace reality. He was ’The Black”.