Night The Living Dummy Novels & Stories

It just looked like the young author…creepy. The real writer (who was of course named Emily Diamond) was drugged and bound fast to her bed with a series of tubes and needles, keeping her both alive and sedated, but not likely to wake. Even so, the creature that looked like her closed the door softly as she (it?) left the basement. The thing would take no chances with something so precious, so vital to its plans.

Leonel watched her retreating figure with an amused smile. “What an adorable lioness,” he murmured to himself. He took a sip of his Americano, savoring the taste. It was incredible—especially the aroma. This was the first time a coffee actually made him feel more awake and refreshed. From behind the kitchen door, Livia peeked out and whispered excitedly to Nico, “Bro! Did you hear that? Their convo was full of hidden codes. Just like those 9 p.m. soap operas.” Nico raised an eyebrow. “Like... how?”

“He threatened to kill his siblings too if he did not leave me alone.” A shocked silence filled the infirmary. Even Damon looked disturbed. “And nobody arrested him?” Damon asked seriously. The woman laughed bitterly through tears. “Richard Stubbs was one of the most powerful businessmen in the country then,” she said painfully. “Nobody dared question him. He had connections everywhere.” Damon's brows tightened. “He is dead now?” “Yes,” she replied immediately. Then bitterly added, “And I hope his soul never rests in peace.” She searched inside her bag again hurriedly and brought out more documents. “This is the picture we took at the hospital after your birth,” she cried while showing me an

“John’s dead, Ella. Tell the guard to tell the imposter outside that he should get lost, as simple as that.” “Frank, can you describe the guy?” I turned to the guard who had been standing there, minding his business. He cleared his throat. “Miss Hart, he’s an enormous, muscular black guy, and for some reason, wouldn’t take off his dark shades.” That description fit John perfectly, and I needed to be sure I wasn’t hallucinating. Besides, what’s the worst that could go wrong? I thought to myself as I ordered Frank to lead him into the private office.

_________ Just as they got to the VIP section, the male gently placed Evanora on the bed, his eyes lingering on her The room was dim, the faint glow of the city filtering through the large window, casting shadows that danced on the walls. Evanora leaned against the counter, her cheeks flushed, not just from the wine but from the fire simmering beneath her skin. She wobbled slightly, gripping the edge for support, her eyes fixed on the male He stood by the door, his tall frame radiating an aura of restrained power. His midnight-black shirt was unbuttoned at the top, revealing a sliver of his chiseled chest. His sharp, inhuman eyes narrowed at her, glowing faintly under the low light.

She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the battle to come. Henry reached the largest tent, his nose twitching as he caught the faint scent of his wife. He pushed aside the flap, his heart sinking at the sight that greeted him. Elizabeth lay bound on the ground, her body bruised and battered. "Elizabeth," he whispered, rushing to her side. "I'm here. We're getting you out." Elizabeth's eyes fluttered open, a weak smile crossing her lips. "Henry... I knew you'd come." Suddenly, a shout rang out, and the camp erupted into chaos. The hunters had spotted them, and the alarm was raised. Henry growled, his eyes flashing with fury as he shifted into his werewolf form.

“This is about the New Orleans Bratva. Right?” “Maybe. Now, I’m curious. What are you offEricag?” He scratched his arm, using enough pressure he drew blood. “It’s crazy. Complicated.” Jesus. The guy was ready to either jump out of his skin or a window. “Do you have anything to drink in the condo?” I asked. “Yeah. Full bar over there. Help yourself.” He pointed to the far side of the expansive living room, the floor-to-ceiling windows providing a fantastic view of the river and downtown area.

He knew that when the sun dipped below the horizon and night fell, she would head for that water. ​Ethan would not stop in his quest for the book Scarlett held, and Alex would do whatever it took to keep her safe... even if it meant breaking the laws of the pack. ​As night fell, a profound silence blanketed the camp while everyone slept. With careful steps and knowing glances, Scarlett and Leslie slipped out of their tents, heading toward the lake under the starry sky. They didn't realize that, from a distance, a large wolf was following them through the shadows. It was Ethan, who had decided to watch Scarlett from his lupine form, his eyes fixed on his target.

My husband, Mitch Cooley, has been with me through my fifth year of battling depression. While searching for recipes online, a notification for a late-night livestream for anonymous confessions pops up on my phone screen. "What's the biggest lie your husband has ever told you?" I tap on the notification out of curiosity as my eyes are drawn to the profile picture showing two hands tightly clasped together. The interviewee replies, "I'm still single, but if it's about my stupid best friend, then she'd been lied to by her husband three times. "The first time, her ex-boyfriend died in a car crash while cheating on her, and her now-husband hid the truth on purpose so that she thought the ma

I didn't understand I'd made the incorrect decision, and as a result, two innocent people had died. My twin sister and the Old woman. "Ron...please don't go!" I heard Dum whisper something in his sleep, which caused me to turn to stare at his sleeping face. I placed the photo on the table and approached Dum, who was suffering a nightmare in his dream. "Sir wake up you're having a nightmare" I tried waking him up by calling his name. But Dum didn't wake up and remained in his nightmare. I can see his sweaty face and suffering expression. It also hurts me to see him in that state. What type of nightmare did he have to get this way?