Blech Soul Novels & Stories

“Whatever-the-fuck. Anyway, I been watchin’ from here almost every night since then and he’s always gone real late on Wednesday nights. I’m goin’ in there and I’m bustin’ inta that stone chest . . . ” He reached behind him, unzipped his backpack and pulled out a short-handled, hand-held sledgehammer. He hefted it, like he was Thor and it was Mjölnir. “I’m bustin’ in there and gettin’ that box and I’m crushin’ all those tiles to fuckin’ powder. I dunno how I know it, but I do. Dad’s soul is trapped in them things, and I’m gonna let it out.”

I was feeling the pain of the sprinkles of holy water being thrown at me, it's like glass cutting through my flesh. I was wailing with pain as every words written in that stupid bible cuts my insides, I can feel my bile rising up my stomach as I vomit brownish green fluids out. I can feel myself weakening. It's as if my soul is being cast out of Cassidy's body.

The blood moon festival was a celebration of the shadow clan’s revenge on werewolves after a pack of werewolves attacked the three monks and stole the spirit sword. I kept looking out the window as he drove until he turned on the radio and “lovely day” by Bill Withers started playing. I grinned and looked at him, then we sang along. In the 17 years I was with the Chesterfields, Mr. Chesterfield never smiled at me in the manner Henry Luther was smiling as we sang. That was all I needed to know that he was my actual father. The road to his house was lonely and seemed deserted. The house itself was a small bungalow painted with bright colors and was dark when we walked inside.

Kayson felt slightly astonished, as it was soul projection, and the soul was the symbol of a Smasher. He looked at the appearance of the soul and thought that it was like an old sorcerer wearing a loose robe. Was the soul coming at him? Kayson was preparing to perform a darksoul projection when he sensed Chase performing soul projection next to him. The soul projection of Chase transformed into a golden light that could not be seen by outsiders before he shot into the sky, holding a soul blade in his hand.

From hunger. The soul he was about to trade had never been his to begin with. He pressed the edge of his claw to his tongue. Bit. Bled again. “Lael ith os murn. I am the last flame. I am the spine of the beast. I give. Take me.” The ground groaned. The altar split down the middle. And from the wound in the earth came not fire—but breath. Old breath. The kind that smelled like burnt roots and forgotten names. The kind of breath that remembered the First Pact and had waited too long to be worshipped again.

Child of the Unbound. The sound burrowed beneath her ribs. “What is this?” she gasped. The words felt wrong here, like they didn’t belong to her mouth. Kael’s expression darkened. “The soulstream beneath all realms—the artery of Death itself.” The Vein pulsed, as though acknowledging him.

She said that you disgraced our entire family. Each word struck me like boulders by the ton. Overdose? Shame? They were facts of a life I'd otherwise remember, and they seemed as distant as words from another world. "Amy—your sister, isn't she?" I stuttered, looking for a spark of reality in her eyes.

But the words that caught her eye sent a chill down her spine: “Soulbone Imprint—The Key to Ancestral Awakening.” Asha’s breath caught. This was it. This was the answer she had been searching for. The Soulbone Imprint wasn’t just a key—it was a power. A power capable of awakening the Ancestral Spirits within the Frostkin, and using their energy to control the Blood Pact Beasts.

he sneers and I hear a whip crack. I realize I'm no longer in the chair and I'm chained to a wall. The blade is still stuck in my gut and then the bite from the whip on my chest. I wince and I feel another and another. "You're stronger than I thought," he growls with disappointment. I laugh as blood sputters from my mouth. He looks at me confused and I say dryly, "I've survived worse than this you son of a bitch. You hit like a girl. Are you that weak that I need to be restrained?"

Hansel gazed at his back with mixed feelings; thorn between hurt, pain and regret. "Damn that bitch!" He roared, thumping the glass of wine to the floor. Shuffling back to the sofa, he put the bottled of whisky on his lips and gulped down some of its content. As the liquid burned its way down his chest, he winced and closed his eyes. Ben's words echoed back in his head.