Clown Hunters Novels & Stories

Otherwise i have to listen to many questions i don’t even know the answer of. “Shut up, you freaking like someone?” She asks again. I nod my head. “Oh my gosh I think I know who it is!” she says excitedly. “Its Toby isn’t it.?” “Toby Arnold, the guy who ate chalk in 6th grade.. The guy who licks his fingers when no one is looking. The one who confessed he liked me in front of my class by standing on the teachers table saying ‘I like ju Shummer’ Because he has huge braces on?” I ask. She nods.”No! shit, hes gross as hell. Even grosser than me.”

It wasn’t another of his werewolf subordinates, or vampires, or even mages. Instead, what stood before us were humans. Not just any humans but the Human hunters that we call “Fowlers”. I gritted my teeth at Druscilla. It’s not that humans are tough, It’s just they are persistent in sending backups, tricks, and traps laid everywhere to our advantage. They kill any creature they find, from mermaids, witches, vampires, and others of our clans. Even worse, they sell us to other humans with high bidding in an auction. They are that greedy.

Must be a higher official's son. "Nice strategy but that won't work. You will easily be surrounded if you all clump together during a fight.", Clayton is talking about their stance. They must have thought staying together would make them a stronger force... Which is stupid for him. His eyes went pitch black while standing to let them know who he is. "H-hunter ...", One of the kids,probably their leader, finally recognized him. At least they still know what his eyes project. Hunters. That's what they call them. Creatures created to balance humanity and vampires. They are basically halves of each sides. They can eat like humans in a normal basis. They could also drink blood if they feel like i

“12 out of 21 deer have been killed by this hunter.” Holding my spear, I am trying to catch my breath while paying my whole attention to the keeper. Keepers are the one who has the information of how many kills a hunter has in an hour. “None other than, Raffi of the Ambrose’s!” I saw my father fixing his hunter’s robe while wearing his huge smile. The whole tribe is excited especially the women of which gender I belong to. I started to walk to the wooden stage created by the tribe for this kind of ceremony. Everybody is happy and I hope this will last forever.

He looked around the room. “The council has decided that these daily drawings are too time consuming, so we have decided to move to monthly hunting teams. As this will be the first month, we are asking for volunteers. As you are all aware, the team consists of 7 members. So, if you are willing to hunt for a month, please raise your hands. I will go on the first team since a leader should be fully willing to do what they ask their citizens to do.” I watched as all my men raised their hands one by one. I kept my arms folded across my chest, knowing that nobody liked hunting. They had made me worry, so they could wait anxiously for me to volunteer myself. Timothy scanned the room and his eyes n

I straightened my back and arranged the hem of my gown to hide the overexposure of my skin though there is really nothing to hide given its cut and style. I just did it out of nowhere. I put on the mask of the clown and waited for the hunters. Here they go with their bloated ego again. These men hunt down a prey and then take it down as if it's the game of chase between a cat and a mouse. They are deliberately there with their proud muscled chest peering us down using their blank cheques.

However, just when the game was about to end, my eyes caught a glimpse of something that made me stop. I noticed that Clark had a peculiar tattoo on his arm I believed was similar to what we found in Hunter Grey. Based on my quick observation, the tattoo was an intricate design of a demented clown, with elongated limbs and a twisted grin on its face. The colors used were vibrant yet grotesque, with shades of mustard yellow, deep red, and silky green. The clown's eyes were black and soulless as if they were staring right into your deepest fears. But the weirdness of the tattoo did not stop there. Around the clown's body were tiny, almost indiscernible symbols and lines that seemed to move and

A big boot print was pressed into the mud, with a weird, vicious pattern, a wolf’s head in a slashed circle. Ash came over, his face serious. “Is that an animal track?” “Worse,” Kael said quietly. “Hunters. The Crimson Claw. They were here not long ago.” Liora didn’t know the name, but seeing Ash go pale told her it was bad. A new kind of cold crept into her veins, different from the freezing river. Amid all the chaos with the heart, the light, and the stone statues, she had almost forgotten that real monsters still lived outside.

It’s very easy to do. I know there are witches in town. The hunters live in town. Maxim lives in town. Why not the wolves? “What happened?” “The hunters collected them quietly, one at a time. And not only wolves. That season, anything with fangs or magic and no alibi was fair game. Actually, the alibi was optional, the hunters have always been more of a kill first, ask questions later kind of operation." "Did they have families? The wolves." "Yes." The word just sits there. I look at the candle instead.

"Then I would say, tell me in the next sixty seconds because we got a line from here to Milwaukie, and we need a show for our seven-thirty today." "A real live wolf-man!" It was a gamble, a real risk taker considering hunters were spotted in the area, but I needed the cash. "Well, Mr. Ardoise, would that be good enough for you seven-thirty?" Clarence paused in the counting of his notes, money stacked in little neat piles as he jotted down the pay in his ledger and handed them off to the carnies on his other line. Clarence was one of the few cryptids that I'd met besides my family and the one dryad girl by the creek. He got around easier like most earth spirits did, like the way we shifters d