Midnight Novels & Stories

All I can hear is a ticking clock, but I don’t know where it is coming from. “Midnight is coming,” a voice whispers. “Run while you can.” She asks if I can hear that, but I’m not sure what to tell her. “I can, but where is it coming from? We are on a bridge in the middle of the woods.” Valeria holds me tighter. “Kendric, we have to find out what midnight means. There’s something behind it.” I wake with a jolt, unsure of what in the world just happened. Valeria stirs by my side, her eyes wide with panic. “Kendric, were you dreaming again? You mumbled something about midnight and were shouting my na

The villain will surely go mad seeing her body. [This blind date of hers is quite good-looking, too. No wonder the villain's been jealous for so long.] [Why are there so many people siding with the villain? How disgusting! She deserves her death! I really want to see the hero taking the villain down!] When I woke up once more, it was back to midnight again. The moonlight shone dimly into the lounge as my hand was on the window latch, about to open the window. [Don't open the window! There's no cat outside! It's a serial killer!]

“Let him do it. Now.” “Lunessa, there’s no time!” Vanya called out. Seraphira was still thrashing in her arms, screaming her sister’s name, sobbing until her voice cracked. I looked up toward the window. The moon hung full in the night sky. In the distance, I could hear the low howl of wolves and the soft rhythm of drums from the village below. “It’s always the damn full moon,” I whispered to myself. Then I turned to my uncle and nodded. “Do it.”

I whispered. We stopped at a red light. My gaze caught on a billboard the size of a building. It shimmered, transitioned—and suddenly, the word blazed across the screen in white fire: LUNARIS. A high-end nightclub. The most elite. The kind only the rich, powerful, and probably criminal could enter. Even back downtown, Lunaris was a fantasy, the kind of place people dreamed of making enough money just to glimpse. The ad shifted. And then his face appeared.

That thought was quickly tossed aside because if that was the case, the noises I made by kicking in a window aloud with my own cries and outburst from dressing my wounds would undoubtedly have been heard. Curled up between the two chairs with my face barely sticking out of my sleeping bag, my eyelids feel weighted with exhaustion and the comfort of finally being warm. The small LED lantern is in the dimmest mode, sitting on the table beside me casting a soft warm light. I usually sleep best in pitch black darkness, but am not brave or crazy enough to sleep without a light turned on while I'm inside this abandoned building at night. The last thing I remember doing before passing out for the n