Kenny Mccormick Novels & Stories

I watched the guy's every move. The way he shuffled his feet, his posture and even the way held his fists. The bell rang, and some music started blaring again. It was 'Awake by Godsmack'. He jumped for, and I ducked just in time for him to miss. I shot back up and remembered what Liam said. Kicking is my strong point. I can thank six years of soccer for that.

Just a random pop-up notification on her F******k app and suddenly, they were close acquaintances. Well, what was the use of having a hacker friend if they couldn’t do one or two favors for her, she thought. She had sent him the mystery guy’s pictures and seconds later, he turned up lots of information on him. when she had asked how exactly he had been able to gather that info on the guy at such a short time, he responded with, ‘We have our ways.’ She had come to know the Mystery guy as Kennedy Macaulay. But her mind often referred to him as Creepy Ken.

＜ Carrick replied to me before he bid me goodbye. "Michael," I snap out of my thoughts when I suddenly heard my mate's soft voice calling my name. I was so occupied talking with Carrick–my pack tracker, that I almost forgot that I'm with my mate. Until now, the intense rage that I feel for her stepfather has not abated.

I can feel my face heat up red as they nod and turn off a machine or two. “ Thank you Madam Charlotte, would you like to see what we were going to do? He does need surgery because he’s left kidney is damaged and it looks like his knee bone is broken” the doctor explained to me as Creed walks over to me with a chair so I can sit down. “ Can you fix it? I mean can you help him?” I asked pulling my legs to my chest

Liam noticed me first and ran to me. “McKenny!!” He shouted happily. “Hey, Champ… you feel better now?” I said laughing. “Yeah, I still feel a little weak but I’m fine.” “You shouldn’t be running if you feel weak, sweetie.” He rolled his eyes. “Don’t you roll your eyes at me, mister.” “Don’t worry, Kenny… I feel okay besides I’m a man.” I laughed and looked towards Vicky who was quietly looking at us. “Hey, Vicky..thanks a lot for today. I owe you.” I said smiling.

Killarney, Ireland, 1840 Kian O'Braonain was the best friend anyone in the world could ever have. He could run as fast as lightening, climb like a cat, and hit a bird with a stone from twenty yards. While Aaron seldom had a chance to play with his friend now that he was older and had more responsibility, his Ma usually didn’t mind if he walked home with Kian after mass, and the boys would spend several hours running around the base of Torc Mountain, tossing stones in the lake, or running through the village scaring the chickens and the cows.

"He's drunk, Mac. Let it go." "All's good. She's okay." At this point, a zillion sets of eyes turned my way then quickly went back to holding-I looked up-blinked twice-swallowed, and watched as the god of football glanced down at me. Killian MacGregor, The Mac, or Mac the Knife, as fans called him because of his throwing arm, was my savior.

”The Mccoy men-” The man panted, his eyes hooded as I eyed the blood that had pooled under him, my heart beat cresting faintly at the familiar ring of the name that had fallen from his blue-tinted lips. “I can’t hold him much longer Ricky,” I called and Fredrick grimaced at the nickname he’d told me more than once that he found distasteful. It didn't beat Romeo McKenzie, but boy was I glad it put a cramp in his catwalk. “Stem the bleeding, be careful with the bones, don't know what he's carrying,” I grunted so that only he could hear before turning back to the rambling man who had become completely sober, drooling a red-hued liquid slightly from the corners of his mouth.

I told him as we stood in front of the huge metal gates. The vast land of tombstones and faceless statues laid before my eyes. The night had a cold chilly air, and I felt myself shiver. This place gave me a sense of dread. Suddenly, my mind was attacked by several images of darkness, dirt, and me struggling breathlessly, clawing my way out of the coffin I was placed in. “You sure you can handle going in there alone?” He asked with a raised eyebrow, no hint of concern in his tone. I quickly put on my strongest face, and scoffed, “Just find her grave. If she’s a witch, she’ll have a tombstone with her name. Jeanette McConnel.” I stressed her name out.

It felt wrong but he would not take anything from me. I headed to the kitchen and made a hot drink. The warmth settled me. My house was too busy for my liking. I offered Logan a drink which he gladly accepted. As we were drinking there was another knock at the door which was unexpected. I froze, gripping my hands against the counter. Logan disappeared and returned a few moments later with someone behind him. “Leah, this is Jack, he does security for us. Jack this is Leah.” Jack was shorter than Logan and a lot stockier. He was muscular and had a shaved head. He reminded me more of an army man than anything else. His arms were covered in tattoos, and his stance screamed military. He stepped f