Nightmare Puppets Novels & Stories

They were different looking from the demon dogs, but still just as dangerous and their pheromones could send even the strongest foggy in the brain. A snort and neigh sounded on the other side of us. I turn to face the Nightmares, seeing their red eyes, and the tip of the horn glint under the moonlight. The Nightmare horse snorts again, and a billow of black smoke pours from its nostrils. “Pets!” Seneca screeches, not at all worried like Mathias and me.

From within the ground appeared many giant black shadows that were four meters tall with huge and terrifying faces. On the head, there was only a gaping mouth with irregular pointy fangs. Their tongues were pink and long protruding while floundering and dripping poisonous saliva in various places. The Nightmares' hands were long, pointed claws and could extend at will. Their mouths rattled and moved at high speed. GRAAAAAAAAWRRRRRRR!!!!

The crack was loud in the silence of the night. The monster wailed loudly, flailing its arms, but Alexander had melted away, his speed far too great for the macabre puppet. The ghoul was shrieking in a brutal animal rage of pain and anger. It moved with jerky steps, swinging its body this way and that, searching for Alexander, searching as it had been programmed. Its head flopped at a sickly angle, and the creature drooled continuously.

Nightmare's wrinkled old face lit up with laughter, making his yellow teeth glowed in the dim light, "well I'm sorry to be such a disappointment but I'm not here to catch up on old times. You've attacked and hurt the young master and an elder of the Leroy Pavillion. Let me ask you this, how horrible do you think your death will be." Red mana oozed out of his body, it was a thick fog falling to his feet and spreading out on the ground. Faces appeared and disappeared inside the fog, and the stench it carried caused everyone's nose to wrinkle. The faces had no eyes or mouth, but their screams of anguish filled the room.

No, a puzzle, but somehow a clue, that goes like this. "Don’t you remember those happy voices in your mind as you sleep? Or maybe the screams you hear of terror in a nightmare. What is a nightmare? Isn’t a nightmare a small prison you’re trapped in, with no hopes of waking? Why? Because you never know you’re asleep. You forget everything, your name, your life, and who you are. The only thing to accompany you are the monsters that laugh in your mind, that taunt you, knowing everything. Your life, your happiness, everything that had been stolen away. But the scariest part of the nightmare won’t be the monsters. They aren’t scary themselves. The most fearful thing of all is that they are yours.

They eventually die and a new Ma Vista is born. If the new Ma Vista is a boy he will start to have nightmares when he is 15. If it is a girl Ma Vista, the child will start having nightmares at the age of 16, some develop a bit later than that and their nightmares finishes in the middle of their 17th year.’

She was never going to surrender to him; he bought her, but he couldn't buy her life. She was going to make sure she made his life a living nightmare. She was going to make him regret ever buying her and let her go. Yes, he was going to release her himself when he got tired of her. She grinned; he didn't know what he bought. He had just purchased a nightmare, and that nightmare was hers.

The campsite suddenly filled with a repugnant smell, like rotting flesh. Nathan leaped forward just as the creatures burst from the shadows. They were tall and bulky, twice the height of Nathan, with dangling arms, wide hands, thin bony fingers, vicious claws, and protruded fangs shining with poison. It was like seeing a vampire experience death over and over again, unwilling to die. I stared in horror, a blood lust and anger evident in their faces. I lost my balance, collapsing in panic. Everything became a bur. Junto was flung aside by one of the beast's pale hands. Then it dove after the Shape Shifter with jaws the size of a bear trap.

J 12:33 before daybreak They were almost out of ammo. The undead were former soldiers, but they were now under the command of Papa Nightmare—someone who, Roo now knew, while brutal and merciless, was inexperienced as a military leader. The Voudon priest was used to a brute-force approach. The number of dismantled Civil War-era corpses piled up in the storage unit was a testament to Papa Nightmare’s lack of military acumen.

In his grip, the bloody scrap of fabric from the bedroom upstairs was held tightly—the solitary proof that his wife had been trapped here. His thumb slowly traced the edge of the cloth, which was still slightly damp. He had seen oceans of blood on the battlefield, but it was this tiny stain that shook his soul to its very core. The Monster of the North fell silent for a fleeting moment, before etching a lethal vow deep within his heart: ‘Whoever made Roselyn bleed will regret ever drawing breath.’