Dry Bones Game Novels & Stories

"Everybody wants to play the game, except for you. Is just a game and nothing more. She voiced out and i felt a little embarrassed. " come on daisy! Kelly nudged me again." I took a quick breath. Is just a game daisy; you can do this." I assured myself. " Okay am in." I voiced out "Hey! What's your name? A boy asked the girl standing. " Call me Tala." She said and tore a piece of paper from a book on the table. So am going to give a brief summary on how the game is. The rules are, you will pay a certain amount to any question you fail to answer. Or play a dare if you don't have the money." She said and i felt scared about the whole thing. Oh heavens!

Declan stands motionless by the floor-to-ceiling window, the neon glow of the city bleeding across the hardwood like liquid gold, painting his silhouette in flickering light. His shirt hangs loose, the fabric clinging to the damp heat of his skin, sleeves pushed up to reveal the corded muscle of his forearms. The faintest sheen of sweat glistens along his collarbone, catching the light as his chest rises and falls with controlled restraint. His jaw is set, a muscle ticking beneath the stubble, his shoulders taut with something raw and unspoken. I can see the pulse hammering at the base of his throat, the way his fingers flex at his sides, as if fighting the urge to reach for me.

I launched forward, fists glowing, and with a single punch, collided with the shadow. An explosion erupted on impact, blasting me backward and shaking the battlefield. When the dust cleared and I blinked through the debris, I saw the shadow disintegrating into glowing ash, carried away by the wind. “Not bad,” Darius called from atop a nearby cliff, staring down at me. “But let’s see if you can survive what comes next.” As his voice echoed through the valley, the scattered bones around me began to rattle and move. One by one, they fused together, forming a towering monster made entirely of bones.

After these guys contacted me about what pieces of mine they liked and what they were looking for, I worked up several new designs that fit their specifications. Steve and Slade both lean over the table, staring down at my sketches critically as they thumb through the pages. I watch the expression on Slade’s face carefully as he eyes each one, scrunching up his nose and frowning at a few, sliding them away. He finally lands on one that has his eyes lighting up, the corner of his mouth lifting. “This is sick,” he murmurs, dragging it closer. “Could you do something to make the skulls pop? Make them neon or something?”