Cold Cold Bones Novels & Stories

Chapter 25 – Death In Pink Selene’s POV My skin feels like it’s fighting a war with itself... feverish one second, glacial the next. A clammy sheen coats every inch of me, sticking the thin sheets to my skin. My breath comes in short, trembling bursts, and no matter how I shift, there’s no comfort. No relief. The cold from that damned pond hasn’t left me... not really. It didn’t just touch the surface of me that night. It invaded. It crawled in, coiled around my bones like frostbite made flesh, and made itself a part of me. The kind of cold that seeps so deep it becomes something spiritual... something punishing.

~ Avelyn ~ I’d gotten used to the cold. Not the kind that creeps through your skin, but the kind that settles into your bones. The kind that tells you, over and over, that this room? This life you desired. It was never meant for someone like you.

Third person's pov ~~ As they both swam in the river of the forgotten soul, the water lapped against their skin like a cold, unforgiving caress. The air was heavy with the scent of decay and death, and the sound of whispers seemed to echo through the darkness. Finally, they reached a point where a skeleton was waiting for them, its bony frame towering over the water like a macabre sentinel. "Finally, someone to play with," the skeleton spoke with a clatter of teeth, its voice like the rattle of dry bones. "What are you?"

His mood changes in an instant. He looks like Sunny just asked one of the most dangerous questions that she could ask. The sweetness of the candy is already gone and his stares send shivers down her spine. If glares can do something to a person then maybe she’s dead and cold meat already. That’s how dangerous he looks right now.

The wind hummed softly, touching the trees and making them sway to its caress. The smell of the gutter, spoilt fruits, ice fish and more all mixed together in the air. All around, people were busy. The wheel barrow pusher shouted at people to clear as he approached with cartons of indomie stacked on his wheel barrow. A man selling boxers made from bedsheets was walking around calling for customers. A woman shouting, ' upstairs and downstairs!' was walking around waving pants and bras in the air.

Luke Cold. It settles into my bones like it belongs there. Like it’s always belonged there. My fingers ache before I can feel them. I try to move them and they respond slowly, stiff, unreliable. The air burns when I breathe in. My teeth knock together once. I clamp my jaw shut to stop it. Don’t shake. I pull my arms closer to my body but it doesn’t help. Nothing helps when the cold is inside you instead of around you. There’s a weight at my back, solid and unmoving. Brick maybe concrete. Something that doesn’t care if I’m there.

“Doesn’t mean they belonged to slaves.” “No matter who they belonged to, how did they materialize in my medicine cabinet?” “That I can’t explain.” “I can,” Harold said, poking suspiciously at the cranberry quinoa salad as if worried that it might actually be mulch and rat feces. “You got yourself a ghost, Mr. Horror-meister. Just like our Melinda, only apparently a lot nastier.” Bias shot him a sharp look. “We don’t know what intentions the spirits in 324 have.”

Looking at the white skeleton in front of him, the man in a black robe, who looked like a thousand-year-old zombie, twitched the corner of his mouth slightly and spat out a cold sentence. "Humph, I didn't expect to meet you first!" There was a hint of coldness in the voice of Bones King.

Their weary gazes fell upon a pile of bleached white bones near the entrance, stripped clean of any flesh. It appeared as though someone or something had meticulously cleaned them, leaving behind a haunting testament to the grim reality of the situation. The realization dawned on the beastmen as they counted the bones meticulously, finding more than a hundred sets of skeletons piled up before them. Their faces contorted with anger and ferocity at the sight. The implications were clear: these clean bones could only mean that someone had devoured these beastmen, leaving nothing but their skeletal remains behind. The beastmen's fury ignited, fueled by the perceived barbarism of the humans.

“We’re not safe here.” Jenna’s breath stilled. Because behind the stranger— Behind David Branson— The Bone King was rising. Silhouetted by lightning. Mask cracked. Eyes burning with murderous rage. Holding a new weapon. A spear tipped with human bone. And he hurled it— straight toward Jenna.