Paranorman Norman Novels & Stories

He was watching his enemy shake under the innocent weight of the very child he had tried to exploit. "Go ahead, Norman," I urged softly, my tone dripping with a quiet, lethal sarcasm that only the adults could fully decode. "Don't be shy. You told me yourself how desperate you were to finally meet Leena. Here she is. Say hello." Norman swallowed hard, his throat clicking loudly in the quiet space. He cleared his throat twice, trying desperately to find his professional voice, but when he spoke, it was a breathless, stammering mess. "Uh... hi. Hello, Leena," Norman muttered, his hands gripping the edge of the table so tightly his fingers were shaking. "Yes... it’s true. I... I knew your mom.

Exactly the kind of thing that could shatter an alliance. “Norman,” I began cautiously, “you know how important Moon Pack is to us. I’ve already spoken to my third son—he’s studying medicine. He could help when he returns. You should not trust just anyone.” That’s when I noticed it—a worn canvas bag on Norman’s bedside table. A relic from another world. One that didn’t belong in this high-rise hospital suite filled with polished chrome and sterile wealth. Norman followed my gaze. Then he looked up and met my eyes.

"Where's Karina!" "If you want to know, you should put an effort into it, because I've been struggling to get her too," he said with his hands on his hips. Norman is like a ghost, he has a body, legs and arms, but his face is just a lump of black aura without eyes, nose, mouth or other organs like humans. "Good morning, I will be waiting for you in the mortal dimension." That sentence was a closing sentence, because after that, he disappeared perfectly, without a sound, and without a word.

"I noticed earlier than something was odd about you but in the right kind of odd way" Norman could not get what this man meant, was he trying to woo her? Or was he trying to get back at her for embarrassing him by wasting her Time? "What is odd about me?" Norman asks "Your scent" xyla says his eyes narrowes until a slit, What was wrong about her scent Norman think, she looks around herself not wanting to make a fool of herself, "I don't see what you mean I bathe regularly and use the too skin cares" Norman says showing off while pulling her hair being her shoulders,

His tone left little doubt Parsh would have been pleased with that outcome. “It was a temporary lapse of control. He’s never done anything like that before and won’t again. It’s being in this realm that’s influenced him. Give him to me, and we’ll take him back to Earth. He’ll be completely back to normal then.” North wasn’t entirely certain that was true, but after experiencing the heady rush of his bite, she wasn’t too concerned about it if Ryland occasionally wanted to sip her blood. “He’ll be safer there.” “He’s going to Noirvald, where he belongs.” Parsh slammed a set of papers before her. “This is the tribunal’s approval for deportation to Noirvald as soon as he’s confirmed guilty.”

“War Deity? What does that mean?” “Yes. Equivalent to Somerland’s God of War. But Norman isn’t just strong—he’s terrifying. They call him the Sword Maniac because he is obsessed with the blade. He once fought Gareath Swordbane, and they were evenly matched. And Norman’s only fifty.” Danial’s eyes widened. “You’re telling me he could rival a Grandmaster?”

The snake-like hissing wiggles into my thoughts. But I ignore it, focused on staring into space and just dreading my current state in life. “Psst… Freya.” The annoying voice whispers incessantly. I give up, turning to the only person I know would be ever so annoying this early Monday morning. “Good morning.” He chirps excitedly next to me, resting his head in his palms while leaning closer to me. “Good morning, Norman.” I deadpan. Norman is my partner for the class we presently are in. Annoying, loud with a mouth that just doesn’t know when to shut up was just a quick summary of his obnoxious personality.

Norman thought of the night he came home to find nothing left in the apartment. He paid no mind to the smell of stale beer and sweat that would have made anyone gag. The stale air mixed with the labored breathing of the thirty-year-old nobody. The sound of it could’ve driven anyone insane. Norman would make everyone pay. He waddled around the room setting up everything, and he had to make sure it was done by midnight. Norman made his way toward his closet and pulled out the bucket of cow’s blood. He had Jerry get it for him from the slaughterhouse. Norman could still see the look on the foreman’s face when he had ordered it.

“Hey, and maybe don’t give our drivers such a hard time when you see them. They’re prickly at best.” “Assholes at worst.” I laugh. “My mistake for thinking we were in the big leagues. If they can’t handle little ole me—” “Not many men can, Madonna.” His chuckle rocks his shoulders. I still don’t think I’m fully accustomed to all of us being adults, but here Norman is looking the part with his lanyard and embroidered name on his shirt. Khakis. He’s all in on the work these days, and into dad mode dressing. It suits him because happiness is the most obvious thing about him.

"My name doesn't concern you," Her next step faltered when he leaned in close, close enough for her to feel the warmth of his breath against her ear and neck, sending a sharp jolt down her spine despite her best efforts to ignore it. "It concerns me more than you think," Norman murmured, his tone edged with something dark. "I like to know the names of women who look at me like they want to kill me... or fûck me." Calla froze mid-step, her jaw tightening. She turned, just enough to glare at him, and bit out. "In your fûcking dreams,"