Novel & Cerita Ghost Crucified

Her men swarmed my elderly father and hanged him alive—right there, in front of my grave. Despair and regret swallowed me whole. I screamed, I sobbed, I begged her to let him go. But as my father's body swung lifelessly, Adeline's smile only grew colder. "Now it's his sister's turn." At that moment, her face was twisted and grotesque, like a demon that had crawled straight out of hell.

I round the corner of the building with my men behind me and their weapons drawn. I stop, seeing the phone in an alley. I move closer and pick up the phone and it’s covered in blood. “Gesu Cristo.” (Jesus Christ) Alonso gasps. I look up and see the sight that greets me. It would make a weak stomached man throw up. Three of my men are strung up arms wide like the depiction of Christ on the cross. Their chest open and throats slit. There should have been six. Where are the other three?

"I believe that this will straightly kill you." "I don't care if you kill Cedric, Asahi, or Haru just because you think they're bribed by me, Zacharias Craig, the former leader of that old gang, fucking die." Lazarus clicked his tongue as he points the edge of the plank at Zacharias' neck. "But one thing I wish for you is death, Craig." Zacharias closed his eyes from the impact he was expecting. But he felt nothing. Instead, a body weighed on his chest.

"Okay. You be careful." As Lucy stepped out of his door, she pondered about the cursed book. Nathan, who was seeing her off, flinched when he saw a woman in white passing through Lucy's body while reaching out to him with one hand. The look of suffering on the ghost's face was both heart-wrenching and terrifying.

“Cast us out . . . and for what? Our lust? Our degradations? To forsake us so?” “Forsake? What does that mean?” Jack trembled slightly. “Do . . . do you mean the way Jesus was forsaken?” Simon hesitated, regaining his composure. A grin broke out, began to spread blackly. “Oh, no,” he said, almost cooed. “No no, my ill-informed friend. Contrary to what you’ve heard, your savior’s dying words were not, ‘Why hast thou forsaken me?’—oh, no.” A ravenous light seemed to come alive in him, making the old man appear straighter, much taller than he had been mere seconds ago, as he strode about the shadowed chamber. “Rather, they were this: ‘Now I am sinking, and darkness covers my face.’ Yees . . . t

In the seventh year of our marriage, my wife, Serena Clark, digs up my parents' urns and places them in front of me. Then she gives me two choices. "Either give your designs to Seth so he can enter the competition, or I'll scatter your parents' ashes into the sea," she says. Clutching the designs I've just finished, I swallow my pride and give in as tears burn in my eyes. The next day, a photo of Seth Johnson sitting on a yacht scattering ashes goes viral. Serena comments beneath the photo, "I'll give you everything I have and spoil you rotten." I stare at the urns in the corner of the photo, feeling my blood run cold. My deceased parents and I have become tools Serena uses to please S

So what stand beside us isn’t at human appearance anymore. Curse of Fallen that what we call it. When we can’t hold our own desire and be honest about it. There appear a animal part on our body. Except me and Hana. Whilst i’m got reincarnated unto this place my race is Incubus, while Hana race is Fallen Angel but at other place is called Succubus because instead of Bat wing and tail it got a Crow wing. So Elder of Hana race call themself a Fallen Angel. The most interesting is there’s no Male on their race so. It got Succubus as the other name.

He teetered for an instant, his back a pool of blood and then like a wounded deer, he started crawling on his stomach, his blood-spattered back drowned his will as every push he made slowly came to an end. Above him was a man holding a sharp machete. Before Peter could comprehend what was going on, the chief priest of Umuoku stared at him and raised a machete. A sharp drive towards his neck, the crucifix disembedded from his necklace and fell on the ground with the wounded face of Jesus Christ staring at his dead body.

Nico stepped out and rounded the car to stand beside him. Nero’s honey eyes swept the scene, and when they landed on the hunched figure hanging before him, his lips curved into the faintest, most dangerous of smirks. Before him , was one of his own men— stripped, gutted, and nailed to a wooden cross that was painted red in what looked and smelled an awful lot like blood. The cross was erected crudely by the roadside like a spectacle for all to see. The almost decapitated body swayed under the weight of death, the stench of blood— heavy, metallic, and impossible to ignore.

“The Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem's Old City. It’s where humans believe Christ was buried.” Michael nods, “But Christ wasn’t real.” I nod, “True, but it is considered one of The Creators holy temples.” I look at Gabriel, “Any idea what The Creator might be hiding there, mate?” Gabriel shakes his head, “No, I do not. I never had a reason to ask,” he states bitterly. I shrug my shoulder, “I’m going to that bloody temple,” My brothers nod, “We’re coming with you,” Azazel and Fallon move forward, “So are we.”