It's Called Dark Humor Novels & Stories

Why the hell did I ask that? "Yes, especially murder." He replied, a strange look flashed across his face for a brief second, and I froze. "I'm kidding. I guess losing your memory also made you forget how dark my humour can be, so it seems we're back to the beginning, where you were scared of it. I'll try to tone it down a bit." He chuckled and kissed my forehead. "Ah... right." I muttered. No, it wasn't right. I was scared of dark humour?? That didn't seem like me.

I asked, "So, Miss. How is it going with the Dark humour guy? Any update so far?" "HA! Dark humour! He's the funniest guy, I've ever met. Didn't you hear that line of him? I mean he called himself motherfucker; oh my, that's the kind of humour I love. Every time he cracks a joke, it makes me head over heels for him. And not forget his awkwardness around girls" the sarcasm was dripping from her mouth. But that changed my mood. And we both started chuckling, "He's not that bad!" I exclaimed. Right? He's not that bad.

Unbeknownst to the unsuspecting realm, a cataclysmic shift was about to be set into motion, orchestrated by these two figures of darkness. Their laughter, a dissonant chorus of amusement, reverberated through the room. It held no trace of joy or mirth, only a twisted delight in the impending chaos. It echoed off the walls, bouncing from one shadowy corner to another, infusing the very air with their maleficent glee.

Mena’ “Ugh” Why is it baking in here! Waking up from my sleep drenched in sweat. I try to kick the covers off,but can barely move because everything is sticking to me.Making my covers heavier in weight. I can’t even sit up It’s like I’m routed in place It has to be around 100 degrees right now.You would’ve thought It’s a furnace in our room how hot it is.Walls probably peeling get it together Mena starting to hyperventilate but after my panic subsided I try to gather what’s going on I don’t smell any smoke or see flames so it can’t be a fire so what’s happening right now

She taps frustrated by on the keyboard "Gentle, gentle! There is a reason why it's called the dark web. You don't expect a novice like you to break in easily do you." "The dark web?" I asked. "Right, I had almost forgotten you were here." She rolls her eyes. Couldn't she resist the thrill of making every word that came out of her mouth sarcastic? 'Yeah kinda noticed already' I had wanted to say but decided against it. That statement would do no good to the current situation.

"What's going on?" I opened my mouth to deflect, to make another joke, but nothing came. The words just stuck in my throat. "I can't do it anymore," I finally said. My voice sounded strange. Small. "Can't do what?" "The jokes. The humor. The whole funny guy routine." I laughed bitterly. "Everyone expects me to make things lighter. To crack jokes when things get dark. And I've been doing it because it's easier than facing what I'm actually feeling." "Which is?"

Philip asks as he scribbles down our plan of action. "Great," I reply. "And thank you. I'm so grateful for everything you guys are doing for me. How could I ever repay you?" The two look up at me. "We're just a couple of old farts, Deary. We're just glad to have some company other than each other for once" Macy says. I find she calls me Dear or Deary when she can't remember my name. "What she said," Philip agrees and gets up to throw another log on the fire. And that's how the night ended...

And 'like' was served as its substitute. The guy, named Noah smirked, "Ooh, that's nice... Luca is a dick, but only when he's with us." He snickered, as the guys nodded in agreement. The smaller smiled, "Yeah, sometimes he's being stupid, and liked to pull silly pranks on us." He muttered, and Alex nodded cutely. "Oh, I see." Noah nodded with a chuckle, as he gulped his coffee in one go. He was startled by his phone, as it rang into life.

A ghost of a smile appeared on his pink lips as he shook his head in amusement while walking towards the door that was at the end of the room. Damien came out of the room wearing dark sweatpants and a white t-shirt. I could not look away from him, it was not every day he wore something other than suits. "I know I am handsome but you have to control yourself, woman," he taunted. I opened and closed my mouth like a fish as my cheeks started getting warm. "Oh please," I scoffed, "it was just weird seeing you in those clothes." He arched a brow as he sat down on the bed, "I prefer sleeping without any clothes but I am wearing these because I am a gentleman."

I click my tongue “Of course you like the melancholy indie film.” “It’s not melancholy,” he says “it’s beautiful.” “It’s devastatingly sad.” “Okay,” he says, laughing “yeah, it’s that too.” We talk about movies for a while—the worst movies we’ve ever seen, the ones we’re embarrassed to admit we love, the ones we’ve watched so many times we can quote them. Then somehow we drift into talking about jobs, and I tell him about the time I worked at a call center and had someone scream at me for twenty minutes about their cable bill, and he tells me about the summer he worked construction and accidentally put a nail through his shoe.