Novel & Cerita Mothman Stories

How long had they been watching our territory without our knowledge? The council threw itself into the search for answers, but every path ended in frustration. Rowan contacted spiritual elders from neighboring territories while Everett buried himself beneath stacks of historical records that had not been touched in decades. Jackson practically moved into the archives and Hugo questioned every storyteller, merchant, rogue elder, and traveler who crossed our borders. Despite all our efforts, we uncovered nothing concrete. Every story contradicted the last. Some claimed spirit-bound wolves could communicate with ancestors while others insisted they could see memories lingering within the land i

I sat up, my brows curving in surprise at the serious look on her face. “It’s the season when a lot of killings happen. During the full moon, a monstrous beast goes about killing people and shedding blood. It’s an ugly sight to behold,” “What?” My mouth flew wide open. “Who is this monstrous beast and why is it killing people?” “Nobody knows who or where it comes from. It only appears every full moon and sucks the blood of innocent people,” “That’s crazy,” “Yeah. And that’s why people close their stores early around this period and stay indoors. It gets really bloody so make sure you don’t leave this mansion late at night,”

I'm squatting with my pants on while Carter is in front of me, sitting sideward with his long on the floor. "Thinking of worst? I'm confused as to what you are referring to." "If you have been updated with the latest crime in the neighboring towns, the crimes have been rising lately. Several women were killed but the authority has no suspect due to lack of evidences." "And?" "My family... after digging some informations about the crimes, we figured that it is not done by a human serial killer. It is done by one of our kind." "You mean, they were all killed by... a vampire?"

"And I tell them stories." "What kind of stories?" Herb said. This was the part that had gotten him out of bed early on a Saturday morning (his only day off from selling mattresses the rest of the week) to come over here. Willie had mentioned stories when Herb got after him for being late coming home so often. It seemed they made quite an impression on the kid, but when Herb asked what kind of stories they were Willie clammed up. The Brookwood woman shrugged. "You know: ghost stories. The kind children like. Mostly ones my grandmother told me when this was her home. I could tell you one, if you like? So you'll see that they're not so bad."

"You may not believe it, but I met a few people who forbade me to come here, especially tonight." "The Day of the Ember Ghost," Dante said. "I'm glad they still talk about that. It's one of my favorite stories, actually. The day when the ember ghost emerges from his hell hole to find his next victim. Or was it the day of bad luck when no fisherman is allowed to go out to sea." Dante laughed. "Some of the locals looked pretty scared when they tried to prevent me from coming here. They really believed in their superstitions," said Jon.

"I heard the same thing from my cousin, and she's not the sort to lie," an old woman said. "She says there's this great pack, hundreds of them, mankillers. The one that leads them is a she-wolf, a bitch from the seventh hell." The man in the green cloak said, "I heard how this hellbitch walked into a village one day . . . a market day, people everywhere, and she walks in bold as you please and tears a baby from his mother's arms. When the tale reached Lord Mooton, him and his sons swore they'd put an end to her. They tracked her to her lair with a pack of wolfhounds, and barely escaped with their skins. Not one of those dogs came back, not one."

I laugh. "Okay, so now at least I know we are going to a cabin in the middle of nowhere where there may or may not be a Bigfoot living," Claire laughs. "If you believe the people in town. You will believe that there is a Bigfoot. Many of them swore that they had seen a Bigfoot before. However, I know that they must have been drunk and seen a little monkey, or they must have seen a bear and have taken it for Bigfoot. According to the legends, there are also skinwalkers, which you are not to name in front of the local people. Just remember that. Never say that word in front of locals. There might also be a werewolf of two, or as they call it, a dogman," I laugh.

she answered, picking up her child who was already fast asleep on the couch. “What if there is? What if Arizona is being hunted by a ghost or some supernatural beings like demons, vampires, or werewolves? How else can anyone explain the case of more than 30 people getting murdered using the same pattern and without any evidence to show who the killer is?” her maid asked while the young lady went mute immediately as she stared at her maid not knowing what to say to her.

I saw the smile forming on his lips, so I lay down, my back flat against the ground as I rested my head on Hunt's lap, staring up at him. "I heard of those," I said. Hunt glanced down at me, his long fingers began tracing my eyebrow and then my nose. "My mom used to amuse me with those stories," he continued. "But there was only one sad story from all of those tales." I reached up and grabbed his hand, before placing it against my chest. "Tell me." "It was during the Salem Witch Trials when people didn't know that innocent beings were being persecuted and being put on trial for being werewolves." I found myself being pulled into a different setting as Hunt spoke. So I closed my eyes and list

Kat POV I had heard the stories of men who turned into beasts on nights where the full moon is high in the sky. Stupid stories filled with tales of curses and blood oaths with the devil, no doubt embellished by the old gypsy fortunetellers who told the tales from the darkness of the alleys in Rome. I had never once thought to believe any of them, filing them away securely as one of the many myths old ladies tell to keep the young girls wary of men.