Fools Paradise Pulp Fiction Novels & Stories

She sighed then her gaze shifted to my arm. "What happened to your arm?" Annah points at my left arm that's wrapped in a casket. "Don't worry about it." She eyes me for a second then lets it go knowing that I'll be fine. "Anyway, back to business." Annah is an arms dealer, her company is one of the best companies out there they call themselves 'The Caters' She does dirty work here and there but she knows how to cover up her tracks

Torn between wanting Louisa all for himself and wanting his best friend to be happy, and he had no idea what to do. This was why he was at the club. He needed to clear his head, to clear his mind. He hadn’t been productive all day, and despite being tired as hell, he knew he wasn’t going to get any sleep even if he tried. **** Regina Aryee thought herself to be crazy. All her life, she had been falling for the wrong guys! Guys who were cheaters, guys who were abusive, guys who were narcissistic, and the new one; guys who didn’t love her enough.

Seeking comfort, one of its hands inched slowly out into the inky dark to stroke the head of the pet at its knee. “Absalom!” the killer proclaimed. “She has fallen! The city’s fallen. She has become a habitation of devils . . . sanctuary to every foul spirit . . . and breeding ground for unclean, detestable beasts.” He descended on her, twitching his long blade around, eager for more knife work. Inside his pocket his other hand grasped one of Principal Schunk’s initialed handkerchiefs, stolen from his office at the high school. Her mind erupting in panic, Katie cradled her slashed left arm and whimpered, shaking violently, fighting off shock. Blood pounded in her ears. She tried to sit up bu

It always smelt of model glue. Apart from a small rack at the back of a chain bookstore at the mall, this was the only place for his friends to buy role playing materials, and the selection here was even skimpier. Weird off-brand titles haunted the single shelf of games. Role Aids, Flying Buffalo, Judges Guild. While waiting for the owner to help a customer, he flicked through a flimsy softcover, bound like a spiral notebook, named Spawn of Fashan. Jon took in its ugly layout, with bad art and densely packed text. Hideous. He threw it back. The owner was an old man, sporting skinny arms and a fat belly. Cotton white hair stuck out of his ears, and rainbow suspenders held up a ratty pair of b

A towering man, nearly two meters tall and built like a fortress of muscle, stepped into the room against the light. The moment Nathan saw him, his eyes lit up with glee. He hurried forward with an obsequious grin plastered on his face. “Mr. Morgan Williamson? Are you Mr. Williamson? Fantastic! “There’s a shameless fraud here pretending to be Mr. Brooke. Please, teach him a lesson—show him what happens to impostors! “Beat him to death for all I care. He has no parents and no background. He’s just a stray, despised by everyone.”

Forster. The second shelf held old pulp novels from the thirties and forties. When he was fourteen years old his great grandmother, recognizing a hungry reader, started giving him one novel a month. They bore such outlandish titles as The House of Darkness, The Tree that Screamed, The Strangler Fig, The Devil’s Mansion, Crimson Ice, The Undying Monster and Heads, You Lose. He’d consumed those books one after the other, a new junkie mainlining his first fix. Grandma White promised him when she passed, he could have them all. Those books were older than any of the others in his office.

He struck the manager hard across the face, then pointed at the tank. "Where are the people who were here?" Unfamiliar with Nick, the manager glared back. "And who the hell are you to make a scene here? Believe it or not, I can make sure you never walk out of here alive! "Someone tie him up and toss him into the tank! Let's see if the lobsters taste better fed on human blood!" For a man who had navigated Florent City's ruthless tides with a calculating smile, this was the first time Nick truly wanted to kill.

He said to me "Did you know that if you self harm, there's no chance you will go to heaven. A dead man chant serve the creator Aydan you should know that. If you kill a man, you can always turn your life around and there's a possibility you will go to heaven. So take your pick." I said to him "How does religion falls under what we were just talking about?" He asked confused

The blood moon hung low over Ashfang camp, casting an eerie red glow that bled through the towering pines. Shadows twisted and lengthened, the forest around us alive with whispered fears and restless spirits. It was a night heavy with ancient power — and a night that promised no peace. I stood at the edge of the clearing, the weight of the pack pressing behind me, their eyes reflecting firelight and uncertainty. The pup inside me stirred with a steady heartbeat, a steady pulse I clung to amid the growing chaos.

"Are you seriously dumb, Elliot?!" he shouted and tossed the papers hard on his face "They're fake, you idiot!! He fooled you!" Elliot picked up the papers and stared at them, boiling with intense rage. He hated nothing more than being made to look like a fool and in front of his father who thinks so highly of him. Mr Kord banged the table in front of him, still very furious.