Life Drain Novels & Stories

"You cannot manually drain thousands of gallons of toxic waste with a tiny, broken piece of plastic? What a completely pathetic, entirely disappointing admission of absolute failure from the legendary Devil of Dalal Street. I sincerely thought you were a ruthless, unstoppable machine of pure ambition. You explicitly told the media you could single-handedly drain oceans to build your corporate empire." Aryan violently bit his bleeding lower lip. He aggressively tried to push himself backward, desperately trying to get his violently shivering, bare torso completely out of the freezing, biohazardous filth. "I will... keep trying," he choked out pathetically, actively suppressing a violent, ratt

Michael could not bear to see me in that state, so he searched the entire country for renowned doctors. He finally found a highly respected local practitioner of traditional alternative medicine. That practitioner claimed that blood drawn from a man’s fingertip could be used as a catalyst to help treat a woman’s infertility. Since then, Michael carried a small knife with him at all times. That way, he could draw blood whenever I needed it. Over the years, his fingertips had been cut so many times they no longer looked the same. He even gave up his dreams of playing the piano. I drank the tonic he prepared with his blood for five years.

at home. "We go deep." She pointed to a grate in the floor. The metal was rusted almost solid, weeping orange oxidation into the stone. "The sewers?" Viggo wrinkled his nose, his upper lip curling to expose a flash of fang. "It smells like death." "It smells like freedom," Neoma corrected. Her voice was flat, pragmatic. "This system drains into the old reclamation plant. It dumps out in the Dregs. It's the only way out that isn't watched."

"Once your parasympathetic nervous system realizes the immediate threat is gone, the Star-Code will break down the dense tissue and flush it out of your system. But it takes massive amounts of energy to do that. Energy you don't have." Baraka looked out into the steaming, yellow-lit basin. "What is this place, Eliana? The air feels thick. It feels wrong." Eliana pulled her torn lab coat tighter around her shoulders, shivering despite the geothermal heat. "The military calls it the Sub-Level Reject Basin," she said softly. "But the scientists at the Hive just called it the Drain. This is where the Starfall’s failures ended up." "Failures," Baraka repeated, remembering the twisted thermal shap

“Discarded Umballici. Discordant chords. Possibilities and connections you’ve once had with others of your kind; now unrealized, now severed. They’re coming home to be crushed by the one great force that created them. They all wash up in the Drain of the World, towards the mouth of Spinstra’s Cave at river’s end.” Spin-what? The water is moving so idly it almost looks stagnant. It eddies in places and occasionally pulls some of the white stuff under, only to burp it out again with a horrid noise. Swamp or river, the water might as well be a vat of toxic waste considering the lifeless bodies waiting at the bottom. I turn my attention to the banks where a jungle looms, thick and primordial. “…

This man, who was once my adversary, had unexpectedly become my mate. In a shadowy alley, a figure cloaked in dark blue stood silently, clutching a white bag filled with a potent drug known as Drain. This substance, aptly named, would gradually drive a person to madness with continuous use. Like many drugs, it offered a euphoric escape, only to slowly destroy the user. It was a means to eliminate an entire pack of consumers, leaving even the wolves vulnerable to its effects.

Nor can we get help from those whose whereabouts are unknown. According to Frey, the number of vampires that exist today is very small. She had never seen another vampire besides her family. However, she had heard that several groups of vampires hunted humans for blood supply. It sounds a little cruel, but human blood is the main source of food for them. I also can't give them the slightest sympathy because I'm also a human. I continued to ask Frey about the people who were after her. The people who chase vampires are a vampire extermination organization and the like. They are called Flower Skulls.

Down toward the dark, jagged rocks at the base of the cavern wall, where thick, rusted pipes were vomiting sludge into the underground sea. "The drainage," Valerius realized. "The biological waste disposal. The city recycles water, but the... solid matter... has to go somewhere." "Gross," Hailey wrinkled her nose. "Please tell me we aren't doing a Shawshank Redemption." "We are doing a Shawshank," Jack confirmed. "Valerius, lead the way." It took them an hour to climb down the treacherous rock face to the level of the pipes. The smell hit them before they even saw the opening. It was a mixture of sulfur, rot, and chemicals.

She craved to be chosen openly, shamelessly with no hesitation. When he entered her life, he gave her exactly that, intense affection, gentle touches, long conversations, and a kind of desire she had never known. For a sheltered girl who has always felt invisible, his warm affection always felt like a light at the end of a tunnel. But behind the desire lay something heavier. His temper, his violent stories, the weight of his complicated past, and the quiet way he consumed her emotionally began to drain her. Torn between the only man who made herpersonal story about the dangers of being intensely desired and the courage it takes to choose oneself over the person who makes you feel everyth

Lunch was a pot of soup. Diane set the pot down on the table with a dull thud of metal against wood. The soup was murky, gray-tinged, a thin film of motor oil floating on top. The water came from a drainage ditch in the basement — Gerald Grant said it ran off from the factory floors above, that it wouldn't kill anyone. Three years in, we'd drunk plenty of things that wouldn't kill us. "Go easy. Make it last."