Chris Afton X Nightmare Novels & Stories

The words burned unto August’s soul, he drank of the cup and closed his eyes. *** Long after Malitus and Quintus had retired in assembled tents, August remained at the waning fire. He saw no reason to enter his small tent Rufus had made up. Sleep would not come for him. His blood felt too stirred by the recent events. Stretching his legs, August rose from the fireside and began to walk about the camp. Again and again, he replayed the dire dream in his mind. Had it been a sign from God? There could be no other answer as he saw the pieces and the deaths exactly as they happened without being present. Was there meaning to it or was it merely what it seemed . . . a dream to warn him? He prayed,

I could hear my heart pounding inside my chest and my vein thumping in my throat. "So before taking another wrong step think about your little friend here," he spoke. He had filled the remaining distance between us and towered over me. I looked at Claire, who was staring back at me. This man has destroyed everything of me before and now, he was back to destroy me. You must be wondering who this man was and why was he after me. So, let's start from the beginning. This story began about a year ago. On my birthday night, that night which became my worst nightmare. I remember it as if it only happened yesterday.

I found myself saying before I realized how that sounded and knew it wasn’t guaranteed he wasn’t under Rex Foxworth’s payroll. “And why would you say that, Chris?” “Because I was still damn scared.” I partly lied. It was true I was scared but not for the reasons he was probably thinking. “And now that it’s gone and I see her hurting, I think that’s what brought my nightmares back.” “Tell me again what happens in your dream? Did it change a bit or is it still exactly the same?”

Your sister is next! Your, Nightmare There was a roaring wolf stamp and the end of the letter. I wonder how they know that I'm alive. First of all, I don't even know who 'they' are. After brainstorming I concluded. I think I know who they are. They surely did not name themselves but they did leave a small sign. The roaring wolf confirms it.

No discrimination between wolves, vampires or humans. Though I had such a beautiful experience when I settled for the night I had a terrible nightmare. I was drenched in blood standing in the midst of bodies faces I could recognize, Sia, Giveon, Max, Brad and Nathan. The dream shattered with a violent jolt. I shot upright in bed, sweat clinging to my skin, my heart slamming against my ribs. My breathing was ragged, but the images refused to fade. The metallic scent of blood still lingered in my nostrils, the cries still rang in my ears.

Little did she know that this encounter with Lysandra and the halfling named Alex would mark the beginning of an extraordinary journey—one that would test her loyalties, unravel ancient secrets, and lead her to discover her true potential as a vampire noble. In the distant woods of Netherndel, a figure prowled amidst the shadows, its movements swift and silent. This creature was no ordinary vampire or celestial being but a werewolf, a supernatural entity cursed with a dual nature. Astrid was her name, a young werewolf burdened with a heavy heart. For years, she had struggled to control the beast within her, the insatiable hunger that plagued her existence. The nights were the hardest, as the

Raped by a demon that thinks he has ownership over me. “Ashton.” My body is forcefully shaken. My name shouted into my face. “Damn it, Ashton. Wake up.” Carden’s voice snaps me out of my horror and I quickly compose myself. “You were having a nightmare.” He says sheepishly. “And? Can’t the nightmare girl have nightmares of her own.” I meet his eyes, but he quickly looks away. Did I say something, do something to give my nightmare away? “I think the entire complex could hear you screaming. I thought…” His words die off.

He pressed his hands against his temples, trying to piece together the fragments, but nothing made sense. Suddenly, he felt a presence next to him. A cold hand rested on his shoulder. Chris looked up, startled, and found himself face to face with Angel. The man, as usual, wore his ominous mask, his eyes hidden behind the dark holes, giving nothing away. “Chris,” Angel’s voice was low, a mixture of concern and authority. “What happened?” Chris blinked, still shaken from the vision. “I... I don’t know,” he muttered, his voice hoarse. “I had a nightmare—no, it was more than that. It triggered something in my memory.”

He just didn't want to see it. Now, on the forty-first night, the nightmare is worse than ever. His face is turning pale. His lips are blue. In his dream, he is drowning. I can feel it—the terror radiating from his small body like heat from a furnace. His heartbeat is a drum. His breath is a thread about to snap. I want to help him. I want to wake him up. I want to flip him over. But the blanket is pulled tight. And the rule is absolute.

I don't want to but it seems like no board to me. It was like I’m being haunted by these endless nightmares, and I can’t count how many times it visits me. But there's always someone who's bugging me. Those paired of eyes that it resembles, Alforo. I just don’t know where. And it made me so stiff when another day he's around. I was very nervous. It was as if I was burning as I glanced at him. I glanced at Klaud and suddenly the image of a wild shadow following me on my dreams vanished, somehow I felt safe even the pain were stirring on me.