Crackhead Chronicles Novels & Stories

"Hey." She takes a step back, covering her nose, and my smile drops as I turn to the side and exhale into my palm. Fuck. I think I really drank too much. I just couldn’t stop after the first cup. I guess that’s what getting your heart broken by your girlfriend does to you. "Sorry. Morning breath." I chuckle when I turn back to the girl. "You’re Veronica’s sister, right? Where’s she?" "Who are you?" She questions back.

CRACK The sound resonated through the quiet courtyard as my bones shattered upon impact, and a sharp, agonizing tear of pure torment immediately tore past my lips. I lay crumpled on the cold earth, weeping hysterically from the sheer, blinding volume of pain radiating through my spine. I couldn't move. My muscles refused to obey a single command. While my concussed mind yet pondered on how to act, how to crawl, or how to slip away into the safety of the shadows, a brutal kick descended directly into the side of my head. The sheer force of the boot almost knocked me out completely, sending a kaleidoscope of white-hot spots dancing across my vision. And then, a relentless storm of heavy blows

"Love? Dude, take a good look at yourself in the mirror. If it weren't for your money, who would want to put on an act with some sleazy, overconfident guy like you? You really think you're some big shot CEO? Now that you're broke, of course I'm dumping your pathetic behind." With that, Sandy turned and walked away. As she passed by me, she stopped and immediately plastered a fawning smile. "Ms. Greer, to be honest, I was deceived by him, too. If I had known what a scumbag he was, I never would have had anything to do with him. Besides, I'm sure you're far too magnanimous to hold this against someone as insignificant as me." Watching her grovel like that, I felt nothing but disgust.

A couple hundred years on your own gives you plenty of time to build up a bank balance. Two hours later, to my surprise, I was ahead by a couple thousand dollars. I'd fended off two drunken salesmen from Billings and a local rocker who was killing time before his ten o'clock show. I turned down the offer of a private backstage party but did buy a ticket for the performance. The local boys were opening up for a death-metal band I'd actually heard of, and I was in the mood for a little mosh-pit action. Headbanging and slam dancing would help me work off my tension, I figured. It would also be easy to sneak a feeding from one of the partiers afterward, though after my snack on Kaz's rich blood,

Chapter One - Sylvie Slam! The door to the café bursts open. The cold winter breeze whips through the small shop, rustling the loose strands of my ebony hair. Momentarily distracted, I barely notice the hard wall of a body until it is too late. Crash! The sound of several ceramic mugs shattering against the unforgiving concrete floor jolts me back into awareness. As if making a huge mess wasn't bad enough, the sound echoed throughout the room and now several, if not all, eyes in the café have been drawn to me. As the spilt coffee slowly spreads across the floor, so too does the hot, red flush of embarrassment across my cheeks.

“Keep going. You can do this. Come on, Tie. You can do it, put your back into it. I can do it, put your ass into it. You can do it, put your back into it. I can do it, put your ass into it. Put your back into it. Put your ass into it. Tick, tick, boom! Hear me banging down these back streets. Bumpin’ Blackstreet, treated like an athlete. Life ain’t a track meet, no it’s a marathon.” FUCK! Shit Fuck! Why can’t my brain focus? I was damn sure I was doing it, then my brain went down a music rabbit hole, and I started singing Ice Cube. Now instead of the knife I wanted, I’m looking at an ass pocket watch. I’m serious. It’s a little ass-shaped pocket watch the size of my palm. And you guessed it,

someone from the other side said. What? He is drunk. He doesn't drink. "Mam?" I heard the same voice again. "Okay, I will come in half an hour,” I said and cut the call. I don’t know where the club is and it's almost 12 a.m. I don’t know whether I will get a cab or not. I called Daya uncle. Thank god I saved his number few days back. He didn’t pick the call. Maybe he is sleeping. I called him one more time.

Every crack in the world. A thousand voices screamed in unison, and the sky split open. This wasn’t the battle. This was the beginning

Lena's mouth dried. His cock was… monumental. Thick and approximately 19 cm long, with prominent vein running along its length. The broad head was flushed a glistening deep red-purple. It was bigger than she remembered from her mouth, more intimidating, more beautiful. It stood proudly at full mast, curving slightly upward towards his stomach. She opened her mouth wide, the awe and want stripping away her last pretense. But he didn’t thrust in. He placed the broad head against her lips, smearing pre-cum on them. She licked her lips, then took just the head into her mouth. The taste was musky and sweet. She swirled her tongue around its sensitive ridge.

She replayed memory after memory, searching for the moment love had shifted into ambition. Tears blurred her vision. Not delicate tears. Angry ones. The kind that come when your foundation cracks beneath your feet. She had married a partner. She was now confronting a rival. Her phone vibrated again. Alina. "Mia… investors are calling. They've seen the teaser. They're asking questions." Of course they were. The crisis had begun. The Decision By dawn, exhaustion had given way to clarity. Mia stood before the mirror in her bedroom. Her reflection looked different.