Ice Scream Man Novels & Stories

Date = 12 June Place = San Francisco (Inferno) POV - Enrique “AAAAAAAAaaaahh!” The scream shatters the air like ice, so sharp and raw it makes my skin crawl. For one petrified heartbeat, no one breathes. Even the fluorescent bathroom light flickers as if startled. “Mel!” we shout in unison, voices cracking, faces drained to the color of ash. We stumble out of the bathroom in a tangle of limbs, only to find the brat practically airborne — launching straight into Damion’s arms. Her mouth crushes against his, and suddenly they’re lip-locked, pawing each other like hormone-crazed teenagers.

So to use washroom they have to come out from their respective rooms to across the hall also their gym room is also I'm that area so it was obvious to see them in that form in hall as some were going back in their room after shower or some going in washroom or in gym . Ekiya bowed her head in embarrassment as she was only woman in the hall population . But still she just started to walk past them till now no one has acknowledged her presence but when she reach in half of the hall one man screamed while covering his upper body with his towel " Gosh ! " . Hearing man's sudden scream ekiya freezed in horror yet didn't let food tray slip out from her hands . Every men ran away from hall like the

AMANI I hear someone scream in the distance, a high pitched, bloodcurdling scream that has my toes curling with horror. It takes me three seconds to realize that the scream comes from me. “B-Bhyron…” I stutter, trying to draw his attention to the dead woman. “Bhyron, look…” My eyes are frozen on her beautiful, lifeless face. I cannot even bring myself to cry. “Are you okay…?” Bhyron turns around. The moment he stiffens above me, I know he’s seen her.

I watched around me as everyone tried to mask the horror, that spread across all of their faces. Even though, everything was given away within the depths of each of their eyes. I stood up quickly, pushing past Ian as I rushed to the bathroom. Flicking on the light, I caught the glimmer of iciness that coated my cheek, spreading up into my eye socket. There was no way of stopping my hand as it shot up, pressing hard over my mouth as I tired to stifle the scream that tore it's way up my throat and passed my lips.

Messing with Damon Achilles Castellanos means death. "Hi," he greeted and grinned at the group leader named Edgar. His eyes widened in shock upon realizing who he was. "Y—you?" Edgar asked in surprise. "Yes, it's pretty good that you still remember me dickhead!" He grinned and cocked his gun then shot a bullet in Edgar's shoulder. Fresh blood flowed from his wound that made his adrenaline rush in excitement. He pressed his finger onto Edgar's wound to make him feel more pain. "AHHH!" The man's scream echoed throughout the whole building. Sounds like music to his ears.

Blisters and burns surround his swollen, bulging right eye. “Please, no!” I curl into a ball and close my eyes. Eric’s face suddenly comes to life. He screams. It’s agonising, piercing, hellish. I cry, and the crackling of fire accompanies the screams. Taking breaths, I tense and concentrate, standing and facing Eric. The long scream continues, and he disappears, but the screams don’t. They echo all around me, attacking my mind, squeezing my brain. I need to drown this out, so I wipe my tears and turn the TV on to full volume. Then I run into the bathroom, turn the tap and shower on to full. Anything to fight the cries.

Slowly, he lifted my hand and pressed it gently over my eyes. “It’s best if you don’t watch.” I heard the door open, heard his feet hit the asphalt. And then a scream. Followed by a louder one—ragged, jagged. I squeezed my eyes shut, muttering beneath my breath, “It’s best not to watch.” Another scream tore through the night. But this one was different. It was higher. More desperate. A screech that didn’t sound like it came from a human’s throat. My fingers parted allowing one of my eyes to peer through the narrow slit.

The video stuttered to life on my laptop, the timestamp showing three weeks ago. A sterile white room. A man strapped to a chair, electrodes snaking from his temples to a humming console. His pupils were blown wide, his lips moving silently. Then—the scream. It ripped through the safehouse speakers, raw and guttural. The man’s back arched as his skin moved, something slithering beneath his flesh like serpents under silk. His jaw unhinged. And he sang.

I meet the befuddled girls who look cluelessly to their mother for inquiries but, when they see me and descend their gazes to what’s in my grip, they scream in unison. “Dad!” I grit my teeth at them to warn them to stand back and they give me frightening looks as they hold each other while shivering. What a menace, they were also at home today it seems. What are the odds this wasn’t intentional after all? “Y-you...w-won’t get away...E-Eli-Elizabeth...” He’s still capable of speech, is it? I lower my gaze to the wheezing man in my grip. His face is so much paler than before, and there’s a trail of saliva trailing down his chin. Yet, that smug look refuses to abscond his face.

"Are you insane? I am never doing that! I am with Jaxx now! Just let me go! I'll scream, Graham! I swear to God, I will scream this entire neighborhood down!" He let out a sharp, hysterical bark of laughter that sent a shiver straight down my spine. His grip on my upper arms tightened until I knew there would be purple fingermarks there by morning… physical evidence of this nightmare. "Then scream, Elena! Go ahead and scream! You think I care? You think anyone will get here in time to stop me?" The implication in his words made my stomach drop. In time to stop him from what, exactly?