Dream Of A Shadow Man Novels & Stories

Godber turned to the woman, his smile fading slightly, "Have you heard of the 'Shadow Man'?" Both the woman and the frail man beside her were shocked. Everyone knew the 'Shadow Man,' a legendary assassin who started dealing in death at the age of ten and became the world's top killer at sixteen. But he vanished from the scene five years ago, his whereabouts unknown. "Do you know him?" the frail man asked incredulously. Godber grinned mischievously. "To be honest, I am the 'Shadow Man'. It was just a phase when I liked to show off long before. Call me by my name now."

He apologised, untying the rope around my hands and feet. “We?” I asked, rubbing the faint bruises on my arms and ankles, staring back at the man before me. “I and a few friends of mine... They call us the shadows. And there's something we need from you,” he introduced himself. A distorted frown sprawled on my face hearing those words; of course I knew what the shadows stood for. They were dangerous men and women. An occult group who hated the mafia but still not legal, like cops. They were a bunch of armed and dangerous people who tried all they could to get the mafia gone for as long as I recall…

But the more I pulled, the more complicated everything became. At midnight, my phone buzzed again. *“The mirror shows what’s hidden. Look closer.”* I glanced at my reflection in the windowpane. The woman staring back at me was pale and exhausted, but her eyes burned with a quiet determination. Slowly, I moved closer, finger trailing the cold glass. And then I saw it — a flicker, subtle but unmistakable. A shadow moving just behind my reflection, a shape that didn’t belong. My heart skipped. ---

ANGELA VALDES had known her escape from prison was too good to be true, but the suddenness and violence with with Dios. Was Ramos dying? Was he already dead? The gag in her mouth kept her from screaming, but her soul cried out in anguish. The blind warrior, a Shadowman from the heavens with a magical wolf spirit, had tried so desperately to save her. He’d been too drugged and injured to fight, and ended up face down in the mud, blood gushing from a knife wound in his back.

I could taste metallic blood in my mouth. All I could see was the face of a man running towards us, or maybe I was dreaming. We have a man in our sights. Though his light was so bright. Had I died? Was I in heaven? With all I’d done in life, I couldn’t be there. But still, his actual face, the light that surrounded him.... It was like we were in two different worlds. Him in the light and me... I watched his angelic face as slowly the last drop of energy faded, giving way to darkness. THE END

I'm hoping to give it a more gothic theme rather than romantic. "I decided on making it a romantic fantasy," Nice, Christine. "It follows a teacher with a hidden desire lurking inside of her. She tries resisting, but her new home holds a monster that brings that desire out. And she realizes that her life may be a lie." "What's called, Christine?" I smiled at her question. "It's called The Shadow that Lurks Within," Jessica didn't say anything else, and we continued to look around in silence. John was holding five different onesies, all with different animals on them.

“Oh come on, Z! Not that argument again. How many times should I tell you? You are not a human, okay? You’re a Shadow Wielder. You’ve been born here. That’s irrevocable!” Some of the tourists nearby stopped on their track, their eyes wide as though they’ve heard such a disgusting thing. “What?” he spat, his ears burning red. “I’m just telling the truth. Every one of us here is a Shadow Wielder. That’s what you call someone who can manipulate a shadow. Seriously, don’t you know all that?” Feeling the heat rushing up to her cheeks, Z said under her breathe, “Lower down your voice! You’re embarrassing me.”

It continued to walk toward my bed, and as it got closer to me, I finally saw the body of the shadow. The shadow has the body of a man. He's only wearing black pants. He also has a well-built body, and I can clearly see his perfectly sculpted six-pack of abs displayed right in front of me. But what caught my attention the most was his black tattoo from his right shoulder down to his hand. My eyes went straight to his face. However, even though he was already standing next to me, I could not see his face clearly. "Who are you? Why do you keep showing up in my dreams?" I asked him again, and at that exact moment, I realized I was in my dream again. That's probably why I'm here now at our old h

Even not in dreams, people spoke with riddle "A shadow "A shadow makes no footsteps "Of course not "But you are tiptoeing "That's what you believe. You get what ylu believe "Show yourself He saw a silhouette form to a man proportion to him. His back was against him and the silhouette was facing the fire and his shadow was casted long toward Raymond's seat "Are you ready enough to face me?" The man aske "I have a right to see the face of my visitor "I'm not your visitor," the man turned, "you are my visitor

When the light catches his face, I notice he has short dark hair, neatly trimmed with a fade on the sides, with a well-grown beard that frames his jawline. “You will have your money soon.” The shadow man growls. Moving back into the shadows like that’s where he belongs. “Wait. That wasn’t the deal. I appreciate the money, but I was hoping that maybe we could discuss business with you…” “No,” the shadow man says. His voice is low and dangerous. “Please. Tell—” A growl rumbles through the cabin. “I said no, pup!” The word echoes off the rotting walls with a force that chills me to the bone.