Imaginary Frankie Novels & Stories

Bridge, Layla, and I were in pain from laughing so hard at them trying to mimic whatever their phrase was. Frankie stood in front of us wiggling his body like a fish. Elijah and the others were calling out words like .. fish.. wiggle … gone fishing … worm.. and bait. Frankie rolled his eyes and moved to the next word. This time he started jumping around like a rabbit. Then the guys yelled … frog…. Uhh rabbit! … oh oh your a whale! … no he’s a cat right? …. Frankie got frustrated. “No mother fuckers! I am hopping. This ….” He started doing his weird wiggling move again .. “is a bell. It’s a bell ringing… this .. is HOPPING. Bell. Hop. Bellhop. Get it??”

He finally understood his so-called appreciation of the grotesque and his quest for the primitive were nothing more than intellectual fantasies built upon a foundation of material comfort. And when real ugliness and poverty were laid bare before him, he disgusted them more than anyone. But it was already too late. The hellish days dragged on for two months, and Steve's mental state visibly deteriorated. He began hallucinating, convinced the stench of pig manure was everywhere. He even imagined pig hair sprouting from his own body. He threw out everything in the rental, including the tiny clothes Paige had scavenged from a street stall for their unborn child.

"I tried my best to accept it, act as if it wasn't tearing me from the inside out. Most nights, I couldn't keep down the food I'd eaten, knowing all I was doing in this world was hurting people. But that was the hand I'd dealt myself. And there was no going to the authorities, not without evidence against them... That was the worst part. I didn't even know who they were. They always sent different men, clearly workers under the thumbs of bigger players, doing what they were told." My head spins with the enormous amount of information. A secret society? I couldn't tell if he was making stuff up, but... who would go that far? And if he was only their mechanic, then how did he come to own a mul

Spencer let out a soft growl but he didn’t say anything. Pushing away from the wall, I walked into the kitchen. A man with wavy dark hair stood beside the barstools where Spencer and I’d had breakfast this morning. Frankie was tall, his dark hair hung around his shoulders in soft looking waves. He was watching me with eyes that were dark pools with hints of blue in their depths. His skin was pale, like he spent too much time indoors and not enough time in the sunlight. A black shirt was stretched over his chest and his legs were encased in ripped blue jeans.

Frankie obviously feels we've walked far enough in that Katy and Tabitha are no longer a threat. His laughing continues. "One day you'll learn that we aren't all the uniforms we wear. A person is deeper than the first impression or rumors you've heard from someone else. I hope you may see me as more than a cartoon characterized villain. That's who you expected, right? Fat Tony? Maybe someone from a Godfather movie?" Scarface?

Then he turned my head towards him and secured the other and placed a soft kiss on my lips and for a moment we were alone in our own little bubble. Then a hideously nasally voice popped that bubble. “Frankie? Is that you?” A girl who looked like a Barbie doll wanna be, approached our table. Frankie placed a hand on my thigh under the table and there was nothing sexual in the grip he had on it. When Fake Barbie stopped in front of our table, she looked around at everyone and focused her attention on Frankie. “Why Frankie, it is you. I have been waiting for days by my phone for you to call.” I couldn’t help the possessive growl that escaped my chest. Fake Barbie looked at me and said, “Now be

he muttered thickly. I stepped closer. He straightened immediately. Good. He remembered. “Talk,” I said. Frankie inhaled slowly through his mouth, calculating now. The drunken sway was gone, replaced by the ruthless man who’d built an empire from scraps and corpses. “Are you aware there’s a bounty on your head,” he said carefully. His words landed like a stone in still water. When I didn’t say anything, he continued. “There’s a ghost, running around, chopping off members of the crew like their weed.” He said breathlessly. “He isn’t just killing then, Ronald. There’s a pattern.”

"am joining you in a few, promise" though unsatisfied, jimmy left. but what was really happening to frank? wait a minute, he was a billionaire too? he didn't look like one and it was indeed a bigger secret. why he was keeping a secret was still a secret but let's worry about what was happening to him. "what's happening to me?" he asked loud exhaling sharply. yes that's what we need to know frank. open up! "hey handsome, you're okay?" a sexy stripper, long blonde gel soaked hair with a bra and a patch on her privates for a panty came by.

The jumps in his heart reminded him mentally to prepare. "Tsk, why am I being such a coward?" Frank rubbed his face and shook his head slightly. "I'm Frank Harper. I never flinch at anything." A second later, his finger pressed the enter button. A list of hundreds of images immediately filled the screen. With one click, the photos were sorted from the oldest.

“I’m serious, Lily. I’m not a vampire. I’m a werewolf like you all.” “That’s impossible. You clearly have fangs and you ingested vampire’s venom without getting hurt!” She stared like I had gone crazy. I knew she wouldn’t believe me so easily. I slowly stood up, moved to the door to lock it, then I returned back to her, and I shut my eyes. “Frankie, please. I beg you, show yourself.” I whispered in my head. Frankie was fond of disappointing me, but now, more than anything else, I wanted her to come out to prove to Lily that I’m telling the truth.