Novel & Cerita Henry Stick Man

Dalton After I put Layla to bed, I return immediately to the shed. I look down at the dead man with a mix of pity and rage. He’s not much older than me. He was handsome, with blond hair and eyes that used to be blue. But now, they’ve started to decay into his skull. The skin is flayed from his fingers, revealing bone, but the rest of him is in surprisingly good shape considering how long he’s been here. I remember him. Henry, that was his name. Henry Swanson, from Mississippi, an architect apprentice who never made it back after traveling here to visit his girlfriend.

Don had indeed tried to be specific with her. A large tall black man politely opened the door for her. Even though he portrayed nothing but respect for his Donna, if he wished, he could crush her skull in a grip. But he wouldn't. She couldn't help but ask him out of curiosity, "are you Ron?" His eyes slightly dilated at the unexpected attention by Tara. Taken aback he processed her words before using the softest tone he could speak into, "Yes...Mrs frantino" Tara politely smiled at the giant man. He gave out the strange sense of security. she rarely caught from people in mafia. While his physique spoke for his terrorizing area of work, his odd body language remained respectful and alert. Kno

Had I allowed my mind to be preoccupied with so many other things that I was failing at my job? I stare down, looking for a way in other than the front stoop where Henley shifted into human form and grabbed clothing from the bin. He made no moves to alert anyone that I was around, never once looking out at the trees or to see if I had followed or what I was doing. Two large men stand out front looking like statues, their faces straight ahead. The only sign of life is the rise and fall of their chests.

Henry was just as taken aback as Justin was. Henry never thought that the people he brought here would not listen to his orders at all. "Apollo and Creed, did you hear me? If you don't stop, I will let you… uh!" Instinctively, Justin lifted a hand to block it, and there was a loud "clang." A tiny, concealed weapon slid to the floor, revealing a needle-like dart. At that moment, if Justin had not intervened, Henry would have received a direct hit to the mouth. Henry's face whitened with fear, and he no longer dared to shout.

He was about to check on Era again when a stranglehold suddenly wrapped around his neck. Henry's breath was cut off. His eyes widened as he tried to free himself while trying to speak. "Ro-Ro—" Henry couldn't warn Era. Instead, he was thrown several feet and slammed into a large tree. He fell unconscious to the ground. The sound surprised Era. She turned around and was shocked to see Henry's condition. Then she noticed a strange man standing not far from her. "Who are you?" Era asked. The man was not alone. A moment later, Era saw six other men emerge from behind the bushes. Their bodies were muscular and their faces were menacing, showing no mercy.

Henry immediately pointed at the shadow on the wall and said, "There's my dad. But he's acting strange today, not talking to me. Is he mad at me for not being good and for letting Mom go to the hospital?" Axel stared at the shadow on the wall in astonishment. Then he looked around the room and discovered something intriguing. There was a mannequin dressed in men's clothing in the corner of the room. The silhouette of the mannequin would be projected onto the wall when the main light was turned off. Axel turned to look at Henry, an indescribable turmoil welling up.

“What is your name?” Shoving away the camera to one of his men, Henry stepped straight toward the detective who was tied to the chair and was terrified by Henry’s power. “Uhmm.. Brook Lance… My name is Brook…” The man stuttered frightened. “Brook, do you love your life?” Henry questioned, his hand pressed on one of his shoulders giving him a fair idea of his strength. “Yes…” Brook looked at him in desperation. “So then, you’ll do what I say… And I’ll grant you your life back…``Henry spoke viciously and instantly Brook nodded his head even when he had no idea what he wanted from him.

Same bruises. Whoever did this job had a lot of fun in doing so. Wood didn't affect werewolves and perpetrator knew it as well. They wanted the wolf to have an agonising death. Henry removed his shirt making me raise an eyebrow in confusion. He folded the shirt in two and then used it as a glove to take out a wooden bullet. "It's stuck" I heard Nigel say but Henry seemed to not listen to him. After a few attempts, he was able to take one out leaving me perplexed. Since when does wooden bullets remain stuck so hard?

The man lay on the concrete floor, whimpering and broken. Turning away from the battered figure, Henry addressed his fellow gang members. Their faces, illuminated by the flickering fluorescent lights above, were stony and resolute. "So, our little rat got into the estate," Henry spat, venom dripping from his words. "And he's been diggin' up dirt on us, boys."

He was looking forward to seeing both of them in the most exquisite of detail. Henry carefully lowered his shirt over his cum-splattered stomach then fastened up his trousers and belt, trapping the cooling semen against his skin. Carefully he stood up and walked to the exit, feeling it oozing down his stomach. He smiled, loving the feeling, the scent of his own cum, especially if he bumped into anyone outside. He'd deliberately hold them in conversation, just to see if they'd notice the smell. Few did, none of them figured it out though. He left the 'Bunker' and entered the kitchen, taking the sandwich that the Chef always left out for him, munching on it as he walked back to his apartment a