Dr Frank Rocky Horror Picture Show Mga Nobela at Kwento

Frank recoiled in disgust, his bowels desperate to evacuate. He lunged towards the door, but staggered and fell, his feet adhering to the carpet in a coagulated mess of the creatures' excrement. His knee hit one of the things and it thrashed violently. Instinctively, he shot to his feet and leapt for the door again. Again he fell, his fingers scratching frantically at the doorjamb. Something was crawling up his leg inside his trousers. He screamed in abject terror. It was moving up the back of his calf. He kicked his leg to try and dislodge it. It stopped for a moment, and then, as if with stronger resolve, slithered round to his shin and touched his kneecap. Frank lashed at the thing with h

His hazel eyes glistened with mischief as they circled. “Dracul, If I wanted to talk, I would’ve stayed in New York.” Romero flexed the muscles in his shoulders, ready to release the tension roiling in his gut. It had been too long since he’d done this. Dracul shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe you should try that sometime instead of coming down here to give your best bud a black eye.” A loud ding rang and the cheers became even more deafening. Romero’s lips curled into a sinister smile. “Where’s the fun in that?”

The lock rips from the frame with a screech of tearing metal. Mick stumbles back, distracted. The door flies open, crashing against the wall. A shadow fills the frame. Massive. Terrifying. Drakon. He doesn't look like a man. He looks like a natural disaster wrapped in black leather. He doesn't speak. He doesn't pause to assess. He crosses the room in two strides, a blur of violence. Mick barely has time to raise his hands. Drakon’s fist connects with Mick’s jaw. The sound is wet and heavy—meat hitting meat. Blood sprays across my cheap wallpaper.

“It's time to wake up, sweetie...” The sun was beginning to rise, but the light didn't bring comfort. It only clarified the nightmare. I looked at the eye again. The pupil didn't dilate or contract. It remained a fixed, black pinprick in a sea of terrifying blue. As my eyes adjusted, I realized the skin around the eye didn't look like skin at all. It looked like wet parchment stretched too tightly over a frame that didn't quite fit. I remembered the "rules" people joked about in horror movies. Don't go outside. Don't answer the door. But what do you do when the monster is already in the hallway, wearing your father’s throat like a stolen garment?

“Ah, so you actually read the pack records.” “I see much more than you think I do.” “Well”—he takes a deep gulp of his drink, his throat bobbing—"Frankie’s tavern is one of my ultimate tests. I have brought every single male I have ever courted to this exact table.” I let out a sharp snort, looking down at the dark corner where a iron rat trap sits near the floorboards. I have eaten raw meat off the back of hunting rovers in the wild, so a little dust does not frighten my wolf. Still, this is a very strange place for a powerful Drakos to bring a potential mate.

Bianca and Drake finally agree on a movie, Drake places it in the player and turns the television for before joining the three of us where we're sitting on the floor with our backs on the couch as Drake presses play on the remote. "What did you two decide on?" I ask Bianca after swallowing a mouth full of Skittles. "The Conjuring, I love horror movies, don't you?" she asks excitedly. Shit, nope, I hate horror movies. "No, actually I hate horror movies," I say glaring at Drake because he knows this. Drake has a full out belly laugh, clutching his stomach. "I know you hate horror movies but you know I love tormenting you with them."

"Yeah, we took out about eight Vampires there. And you have how many?" "Only five," Dr. Ryan began, sipping his coffee. "But these are some badass goons, I'm telling you," he clarified. "I mean, I don't know anything about what you encountered in Denver, but these ghouls will take the head off of a child and not blink twice."

Conversations around us stutter. Forks pause mid-air. Because there he is. Harlan Rousseau. His broad frame blocks out the light, casting a shadow over the table. His jaw is tight, his shoulders rigid, and his eyes are fixed on Drake with the same flat, terrifying calm I saw in the video. Drake’s face is still contorted in a cry of pain, so I lower my gaze to investigate. My heart slams against my ribs when I realize Harlan has a brutal grip on his wrist, twisting it hard enough that it looks seconds away from snapping.

Peter's POV Draco walked in front of Enzo and me as we made our way to the underground torture chambers. The journey that normally took about 1 hour took just 35 minutes to complete. Draco's deathly aura when he entered the van indicated he was in one of his worst moods, which was very surprising considering he had been with the lady boss just a few moments ago.

Slightly hunched shoulder, shoulder length dark hair and he wore a black overall coat. He held on to the neck of a particular man that was dying. The man's face were rotten and maggots emanated from his badly beaten body. His legs hung in the air and her father's look alike was laughing sinisterly with his back turned to her. "Dad?" She called and the laughter stopped, the roaring fire blazing from the distance. He turned and his profile was the most horrific thing she had ever seen. Part of his face looked like they have been cut off and unidentified but his other half had Drake's face and as their eyes met, he dropped his victim and smiled, exposing his teeth.