Goosebumps Manuscripts Novels & Stories

They ate the soup at the kitchen table. Biscuit arranged herself under their feet with the authority of a dog who had decided this was her table, too. "What are you going to do with it?" Caleb asked. "The manuscript." "Send it to me first." She looked at her laptop, closed on the desk. "I already did, actually. This morning. Before I texted you." She paused. "And then — I think I'm going to show it to someone. Professionally." "Another agent."

"I've got something special. Would you like to see it?" "Antiques?" He lowered his voice. "A Renaissance manuscript." Nicole instantly perked up. She personally had zero interest in this kind of thing, but her storage space loved collectibles like these. The man picked up a bag, carefully unwrapped layers of cloth, and took out a yellowed manuscript, unfolding it with extreme caution. Nicole had no artistic eye whatsoever and couldn't tell whether it was real or fake. The paper and ink looked genuinely old, but then again, counterfeiters before the apocalypse had been terrifyingly good, too.

The pleasure is building to a screaming peak. "I need ink," I pant. "I need to sign." I climax. It’s violent. Creative. My body shudders, releasing fluids that soak the chair. I dip my finger in my own wetness. I trace my signature on the virtual contract floating in the air. Mia Thompson-Reed. The book is done. The Proposal. I slump back in the chair, exhausted. The VR fades. We are back in the study. My clothes are disheveled. The manuscript is compiled on the screen. 400 pages.

Seems I'm not the only one feeling the tingling presence of our Goddess begin to build. “Anyway, I’m not implementing all this shit. I’ll take notes about the full moon. You can keep the rest,” and handed me back my crudely drawn cover before nodding and disappearing. “Th-thanks,” I stammered. Of course. My bitter, curse-word filled Guidebook to Avoiding Sex-Fuelled Mass Murder cover was back in my hands. Certainly not a proud moment. A few minutes later Brody appeared around the corner only to find me with my head ducked into my hands. “What’s happened?”

My hard work, now a cascade of loose pages and shattered dreams. My body went still before it moved. I crouched and gathered the sheets with shaking hands. The ankle monitor dug into my skin as I crawled across her cold floor. “We’re done here,” she said, already turning to her computer. The assistant who'd scheduled my appointment watched with pity from her desk as I left, arms full of crumpled pages, the broken binding dangling from my grip. In the elevator, the doors closed and the silence pressed against me. I looked down at the ruined manuscript in my arms and felt nothing but a slow, steady anger that felt stronger than humiliation.

Jackson pointed to a book that was left open from the night that my parents were killed, I walked over to it, sitting on the table was an old manuscript that I had never been able to finish, along with a handful of drawing one of a Moon Rose from our rose garden and a Sliver Star patten, and then there was a letter to myself that I had written that was meant to be add to a time capsule for the time I became Alpha and had the pack handed over to me by my parents. “The Moon Roses at Midnight, I totally forgot about this story,” I breathed. I picked up the unfinished manuscript with trembling hands, memories flooding back of nights spent writing by moonlight when I should have been sleeping. "T

I had no idea what his handwriting looked like, but something about the ominous feeling swirling in my gut back at the library made me certain it was him. I held the note in one hand like it was a enchanted charm, while I pinched the rose by its stem with the other. I looked down at my arms and spotted the fat rows of goosebumps lining the length of my skin as far as the eyes could see. Why did he always manage to have this effect on me?

Surely, they couldn’t be a criminal organization. Could they? A knot formed in my stomach at the very thought. I paused once I reached the bookshelf with the manuscripts, and I gazed upward. I needed to get those papers. I began climbing the wooden steps until I reached the top. The manuscripts looked to be even older up close, and they were literally collecting dust. I blew some of the dust off and instantly got attacked by the dust bunnies, making me cough and my eyes water with irritation. Perching myself up on the bookshelf and attempting to sit, I had the manuscripts in hand. There were so many of them and most of them were manuscripts of Joseph’s books. As I skimmed through some of the

I was willing to pay whatever it took to find the answers that were concealed in the mansion's interior. With the room's heavy weight pressing down on me, my heart hammered in the quiet. My fingers trembled as I took up one of the manuscripts and proceeded toward the pedestal. I felt the parchment was fragile and old, and as I unfolded it, I had trouble reading the old-fashioned writing. The door of the chamber creaked open, and I spun around, heart palpitating. Rosa appeared in the doorway, looking urgent and concerned at the same time. "Kyra, why are you in this place?" With a frightened glance over her shoulder, she whispered.

Zie replied, I could hardly breathe because of the nervousness especially when the door opened and I heard the sound of a foot walking near to our direction. "Good day sir, Giza Clay is here and he doesn't have an appointment with you today but he wants to talk to you, he said it's about the manuscript." Hearing the name Giza Clay, the book entitled 'The Dollar Sign' immediately registered in my brain, if memory serves me right he is the author of that novel. I want to come out under the table to confirm if Giza has an X shaped scar on his face. "Let him in," Zie replied, his voice was still cool as if I wasn't under him with his penis on my mouth. What if Giza caught us doing nasty things?