Goth Novels & Stories

I had no idea how I managed to drift off to sleep that night. My Aunt Iris's voice circled endlessly in my mind, taunting me, mocking me, tormenting me. They reminded me of something that I wanted so badly, but I could never have. The grief I felt in my chest was indescribable. It felt as if there was a tight knot placed inside my stomach, and it was getting tighter as each second ticked by. I felt too numb to cry. Everything hurt.

the way he say such thing made Louise lough. It might be because of image spreading across the west continent. He was refered the souring thunder, the ruthless king and a honorable knight of the Castaline Kingdom. Such name didn't fit him, he was neither ruthless nor kind but the name butcher who don't show mercy is one of those filthy names he had never once consider pleasant.

I’m grateful dance has given my thighs strong muscles and my body endurance. The bar is full of goths as usual, of varying degrees of flamboyance. Most of the kids are dressed casually with Gothic touches—black lipstick here, a spiked dog collar there, black clothing everywhere. Many of the girls are wearing corset tops, real ones with stays. All of it is expensive-looking and elegant. Black nail polish is nearly universal. I’ve never seen a town with such a high goth subculture population.

“Hey.” I lifted my face and turned to the source in wonder. In front of me, a female goth—hair pitch black with a section of hair dyed in neon green, a spiky choker around her thin neck, black long coat with chains and transparent section to display her black tank top and jeans, and also, a pair of platform boots—was standing in front of me as she broke into a smile on her black tinted lips. “Can I, be your partner?” Her friendly question is accompanied with a smirk, which probably was her behavior of some sort.