Craft Stories I Wrote For The Devil Novels & Stories

They'd read 9 Lives, 10 Circles, and been tested on it. He wished he had a copy right now. It was a fiction book about one tom's attempt to gain an audience with the Black Devil. It read like a tour guide of the Underworld, down to the minutest detail, when it didn't go into the scratchings of the main character's slowly twisting mind.

I felt like someone just scraped my throat with sandpaper. "Okay, I will." I typed and sent him. I did not want to torture myself by dragging this conversation. Nor did I want to see Delilah. So, I asked Samuel to sign a contract with her and send her a schedule and script for a shooting. I intend on keeping this as quiet as possible.

This was worse. Tears welled in my eyes, but I kept fighting. I kicked. Screamed. Cursed. Their hands gripped my waist, my shoulders. I thrashed like a wild thing. I didn’t care if they broke me—I wasn’t going down quiet. And then something inside me cracked. I wanted someone—anyone—to show up. Even Leon. Even Sean. Even the damn devil himself. I hated them. But at that moment, I wanted to be saved by the same people I was trying to run from. I didn’t want to die in some alley. I didn’t want to be left like trash after these bastards were done.

And now, the strings tighten. Damitri slumped, sword clattering from numb fingers, his breaths ragged wheezes. The queen sobbed, clutching the infant tighter, while the boy stared with wide, tear-streaked eyes, fists balled at his sides. The devil's gaze shifted, those crimson slits narrowing with predatory hunger. He released Damitri with a casual flick, the shadows recoiling like whipped serpents, and strode toward the child. His hooves clicked ominously on the flagstones, tail lashing behind him, barbed tip carving shallow furrows in the stone. He paused before the boy, then crouched low, wings folding with a leathery rustle, bringing his grotesque face level with the child's. Sulfurous b

I wasn’t staring at a man I called my brother or my best friend either, I was staring into the eyes of the devil himself and the devil wanted everything I had. During one of the few moments I had with my father, I remember him telling me a story about the time he made a deal with the devil himself. I never believed him because I felt it was a lie, a fairytale he was telling me to make himself feel exalted in my eyes. The old, dimly lit tavern was the kind of place where only the most desperate of souls dared to tread. It was a place where the lines between good and evil were blurred, where the patrons were as likely to be demons as they were to be men. My father began.

I smile when I remember that incident. "That was the worst nightmare I've ever had, you know. The devils were after me, their faces were covered with holes. While their bodies were as big as skulls, and before they had a chance to eat my soul." Unknowingly Aphrodite started to hold my hand, and I had no idea she was also afraid of ghost stories like this. "But thank goodness I was able to wake up," I continued and smiled. Meanwhile Aphrodite heaved a sigh of relief. "And one more thing you should know. The devil can eat souls, and he can take over the bodies of people who are eaten by his soul."

Devanna noticed my reaction and just chuckled. "They are creatures who are almost the same as us, they have self-esteem, have shame .. can feel disappointed and humiliated, therefore ... don't make them offended. You understand what I mean?" I just nodded, I returned to processing the dough until it was ready to be put into the oven. Devanna invited me to sit aside. There is a sofa in pink and red there. We sat side by side while waiting for the oven to sound. "It's a slightly different world. Did Charlie tell you... That I have fairy blood from my grandfather's line?"

”Nice flowers.” Wendy commended as soon as Rebecca entered the room. Rebecca on the other hand didn’t pay attention to what was said. She was lost in a world of her own thought. She didn’t see the face of the biker, but from the sound of his voice, she could tell who it was. It was a voice she would recognize anytime, any day. The voice of the devil who haunts her in her dream. A pat on the shoulder brought her back to reality. She jerked and the flower slipped from her hands, but Wendy caught it before it could fall to the floor.

The devil is killing not just the supernatural creatures, he is killing the humans as well but luckily he hasn't revealed the existence of the night creatures Dear readers please check out my other novel on W******l "A Deal Is A Deal."

I let myself fall deep into my zone with red in my sight. “Gaetano, do you understand why they say never make a deal with The Devil?” I interrupted his laugh. He looked at me with narrowed eyes as I blew out the cigarette smoke into the night sky. I flicked the bud away and met his gaze, giving him a devilish smirk. “I’m about to show you why.” I drew my guns out at the same time men jumped out from the wooden crates. And a war with fire began.