Graveyard Dance Novels & Stories

As if about a dozen masters had appeared at the cemetery, carrying out a collective spiritualism ritual. Except, there weren’t any masters. Or rituals. Nor anyone reading a spell capable calling forth a restless spirit. There was only Reive and his nocturne. The Undead King’s nocturne... The shapes were becoming clearer, and the dead faces were becoming brighter. The music continued to flow like the moonlight, under which, the undead began to dance. I saw a girl in a white dress. Maybe once, it had been quite a different color, but now, it was the shade of ash. Torn rags were hanging down the skirt. There were death spots on her hands and face, and a rotten tongue fell out of her mouth.

He allowed himself a small smile, happy to finally be nearing the end. His smile vanished almost as soon as he had made it. The ground under his feet shook violently. The very earth began to split and bouts of jet black flames spewed from the gapping holes. The stone paved road he and his army had been standing on began to rise and fall. Whole swaths of his men falling in the the jet black flames billowing from a dark abyss. He heard heard the shill screams of men falling and burning or burning and then falling. He lost his own footing tumbling to the ground. He barely caught the edge of the crevice that opened up under him. He felt a sharp pain in his arm, he dislocated his shoulder and yet

“Thanks, man. I’m a lucky son of a bitch.” He scoffed at that. “Nah,” he said, swatting the air. “You deserve this.” “Kian, come and dance with me!” Gia beckoned, waving me over to the middle of the room. Blade obliged Lauren with a slow dance to Foreigner’s “Waiting For A Girl Like You.” My shoulders sagged, and I grimaced as if to say, “Seriously? Do I have to?” Inside the Cage, I could move like lightning, but out on the dance floor, I had two left feet and gigantic shoes. There was no way I could pull all that Patrick Swayze shit, even if they had shoved my baby in the corner.

I know it's ballad but… I felt attacked how melancholic it is. The partner were starting to changed so I eyed Rex. I forced myself to smile while dancing. And I know it's bad when I turn for the opposite side. Making the dance chaotic. So even though I wanted to, I never did. I couldn't look straight when Klaud hand snaked on my waist.

“The sooner you can get out of here, Gracie, the better.” *Rob* The music is loud and thumping when I arrive at the dance bar after leaving Grace’s farm and I can feel the bass deep in my chest before I enter the building. Making my way around the edge of the dance floor toward the table where Cameron and Tim wait, I watch with them as Dan tries his luck again with the blonde from last night. “How’s he doing?” I shout over the music, gesturing with a thumb towards Dan.

a the komondor, seeing that both dance crews were set and eager for battle wasted no further time by blowing the symbolic horn which ignited the beginning of every dance battle at the Lighthouse. After sixty minutes of earnest sweat, blood and tears, both teams still remained tied up to a tie. This was the toughest street battle of my career as a dancer. I stared at my team and could see that every one of them drained but just kept fighting hard with the last blood in their veins. Kim, the Asian American, had completely run out of ideas since all his moves were imitated and better danced by a copycat who was specially hired by the Saxons just for this battle, Mark Theon. He was damn good but

I walked right past him as if he were invisible. He grabbed my arm. "Wait, Sharon! I'm not here to beg you to come back. I just… wanted to celebrate your birthday." I stopped, and he continued, "I know I'll be leaving soon. Just let me spend one last birthday with you." I didn't know where he got the money for flowers and cake, but when I saw the frostbite on his hands, I could imagine how miserable his life had been. "Sharon, have a piece of cake."

The sound is unbearable—a symphony of breaking glass mixed with voices that bleed into one another until I can't tell where one Selene ends and another begins. My feet leave the ground. We all rise, pulled by invisible threads toward something that shouldn't exist—a place I've only heard whispered about in the darkest corners of lunar prophecy. “The Throat of Echoes.’ The legendary graveyard where broken selves go to scream their final truths before silence swallows them whole.

After a while, seeing that I didn’t lower my gaze like the rest of the candidates had, he smiled and moved on to look at the others. When he finished looking at us, he introduced himself as Eduardo. Just that—no last name, no nickname. He added that he was the owner of a chain of cabarets and casinos. He said he only needed five new dancers, so not all of us would get to perform that night. He would start by watching five of us, and if he was satisfied, the rest would be considered for a future opportunity.

“I didn’t grow up like you. I don’t have those guts or experience points. Those people scare me and I’m sure that you should feel some fear too.” “What do you mean by ‘those people’?” She tilts her head, looking at me incredulously. “Are you for real now?” I shrug, and buckle while pleading. “Come on, now. Dance with me.” Rolling her eyes, she takes a step forward and takes my hand. “I hope Gigi will have enough money to buy us pretty graves. I laugh as I drag her back to the dance floor. “He can take ours to buy them, hon.”