Cursed Gun Novels & Stories

Zilla screamed so bitterly as he rushes Fisher but all he could get is his ashes. Fisher was burnt down to ashes just by a shot of a gun? that gun is not ordinary, it can seriously terminate anybody's life. Meanwhile, Wisdom and his team were watching what is going on, they couldn't give help. The truth is that all the soldiers have this very gun. It appears that they are not even safe at all, many may pass away at this very moment of theirs.

And she just wanted to make something delicious to Aiden that she could find in his kitchen. “Fuck! You're a heartless man. You damned sniper!” Calistha cursed angrily while pounding her pillow brutally. But a second later she remembered the gun, and immediately took the black weapon from her cupboard. She wanted to let out all her annoyance right now by shooting something. After all she also had to keep practicing to hone her skills with weapons, and she felt this was the right time to do so.

The man mumbled with a hoarse voice, bringing his head down and looking sideways to continue making his list — something he was doing before she showed up. "El Depredador, Sobek Special, Double Clutch sniper guns, El Rubi and Ciervo Macho shutguns as well. I'm hoping you'd have the aforementioned here tonight." She gruffed, dropping a cheque on the table before him. He lifted up his head slowly to take a closer look at her as she drew near to him with those words coming out from a young teenager's lips.

No one knows this code but me, even Chad doesn’t know it. The electronic padlock makes a beep and the door of the closet opens. I push it farther so I can get a decent view of the guns. My eyes land on one of the guns that I consider my lucky gun. I have used it to assassinate about twenty two persons, it has never failed me. I even nicknamed it, I call it Betsy. I take Betsy from among the other guns and I also take enough ammo to kill a small army. I just like to be prepared, who knows what may happen.

he cursed in confusion. The muzzle of a gun was pointed at his head, shutting him up.

“Let him choke on it.” Dragon’s hand finds mine, his palm scarred from engine burns and old battles. We’re a matched set, he and I—broken things remade sharper. Outside, engines snarl. Lou Nwa’s bikes form a crescent around the porch, headlights cutting through the swarm of wings. *Not enough. Never enough.* Uncle D racks his shotgun. “Koulye a, nou pran batay la (Now, we take the fight).” This is how curses die. Not in whispers, but in the thunder of hammers reloading. Not in pleas, but in the war cry of a stew pot boiling over with poisoned silver.

WARNING SIGNS: LANGUAGE THAT IS UNAMBIGUOUS CURSING VIOLENCE, GUN VIOLENCE SELF-INFLICTED HARM BLOOD, DECEASE, and GORE LUCA POV They were clearly unskilled and unprepared, and they were definitely working for someone else. Damn, I didn’t need more trouble. I tucked my gun back into my pocket and looked at the crates filled with drugs. "I need this shipment processed quickly. I don’t want the police getting too curious," I stated, talking to no one in particular. I turned to Theo. "Get it sorted," I ordered.

he cursed. As George's subordinate sprang into action, disarming the assailant with a swift, decisive move, his eyes blazed with fury at the cowardly act of violence against his boss. Who would have thought that these cowards would bring a gun? Fuck! Guns are prohibited right now due to the war between the two mafias, but now this man has a gun! With a low growl of anger, he spat out a curse at the man responsible, his words dripping with contempt and righteous indignation.

My voice cracked on the words because I was certain that he did love me. Confusion marred her perfect features. “Is he sick?” Because truly, that would be the only other problem. “He's cursed.” I blurted out. “Cursed?” She sounded disbelieving. “Yes, cursed.” I spent the next few minutes explaining Brian's curse, his age, the death of his prior mates, and the future event of my possible death.

"The curse is real." "No," I said desperately. "What do you mean, this isn't me!" "Four hours," Dante whispered, looking directly at me. "You've been here four hours and I'm already dying." "What do you mean by that? and if you think so, is this how curses work?" "Isn't it?" Soren asked coldly. "Your first mate died in a hunting accident. Random attack. Your second mate got killed by rogues. Random attack. The third mate just dropped dead. Random death."