Creepy Priest Novels & Stories

I wondered what the fuck her mind would be doing right now if she knew what I was doing. My brain halted in its tracks as I took in the well-dress black suit presence of Critsy walking in with two guards by his side in matching suits. His long red hair that went just passed his ears had to be taking all of the other guests by surprise but still there he stood. We made eye contact and I waited for him to look away in anger as he’d been for so long knowing I’d killed his companions but instead today he gave me a nod and smile then shook his head like he couldn’t believe it himself. My entire body exploded into goosebumps and I knew, the Crimson Priestess had struck again. This was why he was h

I came to and found myself cradled in the arms of the priest who was shaking like a bloody leaf, eyes snapped wide as he watched the whole place being flipped upside down by men whose souls were so far gone there was no saving them. I recalled Lorenzo’s call from earlier, how he barked to whoever was on the other side of the receiver and telling them to get the priest to the chapel; even if they had to drag him out of bed. Looking at him, the poor guy looked like he’d seen the devil’s eyes. A moan slipped from me, everything in front of my eyes dancing. He screamed something in Italian before clutching me tighter. I realized we were stuffed behind the stone pulpit while war raged on the outs

It seemed to grow with the blackness of the alley. The priest rose a hand to the man. Yellow teeth crumbled like a wet rag before it reached him. Along with the smell of rotten fish and excrement, the alley now seethed with the foul stench of urine. The priest turned his gaze to Sethlzaar. "Come, child," he said. "Time to leave." Whatever had held Sethlzaar prisoner, released him. He rose to his feet, confused, wondering when he'd sat on the floor. He took a step toward the priest and embraced his returned command over his body, placing one foot in front of the other.

Draynon coughed once more and continued the recitation. “The corridor was immense and opulence was everywhere, yet that is not what caught the attention. Nor the fact that everything was made of gold, expensive silks, satins or encrusted with jewels of bright colours. The deep gold is as pure as anyone could imagine and the satin as blood red as the heart of a lover. The floor and stately columns were as black as the soul of night yet the walls were covered in clashing colours of purples, greens and orange. The riot of conflicting colours still was not the main focus, nor the obvious and nauseating display of inestimable wealth. What would catch your attention are the two men walking do

Kyra is his obsession, his punishment, and his prey. Steven Blackwood doesn’t love he dominates, he torments, he claims. Resistance brings pain; surrender brings chaos. Trapped in his mansion, surrounded by fear, jealousy, and the shadowed eyes of those who serve him, she must navigate a world where innocence is weakness and temptation is unavoidable. Every moment in his grasp threatens to break her, and survival is not escape, it is submission to a man who bends desire and fear into a power only he understands. In the hands of a devil who refuses to be denied, she may lose everything…even herself.

Hadn't let himself. The priest came out of the sacristy as they were closing the door behind them. He was old, older than Alex expected, with white hair and hands that trembled just slightly when he moved. His cassock was worn, the fabric thin at the elbows, the hem frayed. But his eyes—his eyes were sharp. The kind of sharp that came from years of watching, of listening, of seeing things other people tried to hide. He stopped when he saw them. His eyes moved from Vincenzo to Alex's mother to Alex, and something in his face shifted. Something that looked like recognition.

Serra's POV I waited and waited for the old priest to show his self before me. As he appears from the doors, I plaster a smile to welcome him, his eyes wide like of his servants. "Clairra," he called. No matter how much I recall there was nothing significant about him other than the pressure he put Clairra through, sending her happily to her death. "Old priest, Heliu," I greeted. "I believe you have not heard of it yet... my name is not Clairra. I am Serra, the new Priestess of the East."

“Mine dropped off when the squealing started. Good grief, do you think they are afraid of the creature that is making the squealing sound? If so, that must be one freaky creature. Whatever it is, judging from its squealing, I think it’s coming closer to us in the passageway.” A flaming torch appeared at the end of the passage. The tall bearer of the torch led a procession, pulling a heavy wooden sled that made the horrid squealing against the concrete. The torch kept flickering off and on as the procession grew and members of the procession were wearing ancient Egyptian clothing, they moaned as if in a funeral cortege. They stopped several units away from the Asplundhs’ to perform a ritual,

“Two men come where de swamp still remember. One wid steel on his back. One wid smoke in his mouth. Both wid fear dey try to hide.” Kofi’s jaw flexed, but he said nothing. Gideon bristled. “We came for answers. Not games.” The priestess only laughed, a low, rattling sound that set the chicken tied on her altar thrashing. She lifted a blade and slit its throat without ceremony, catching the blood in a carved bowl. The scent of iron filled the air as she smeared her brow, muttering a prayer. Then she pulled out a battered deck of cards, slick with age and strange symbols scrawled across the backs.

Knowing what I know now, I feel like it was obvious and I was a bit stupid for not realizing earlier how materialistic our dear priest was, I mean when he climbed into my car that night, his cologne filled the entire car, and it was an expensive cologne. His entire outfit from that night was expensive, the car he wanted from the dealership was crazy expensive. It was odd that a priest was materialistic, but that was fine, I was lucky to have an abundance of materials, and it would make the perfect bait.