Pitch Black Skin Novels & Stories

Something worse. He stands roughly two inches taller than me. His black hair is combed back. Slick with gel. His color scheme is black and white. Like a panda. But nothing like said animal. He walks with vigor and a domineering prowess. But what kicks everything into limbo is his face. It sharp. Too sharp. It seems to be made of porcelain. Almost as white as my skin. But something else. Like it's been bleached. Bleached with so many chemicals it has no hope of returning to any healthy color. His eyes are grey. Almost like storm clouds. No. Nothing like storm clouds. I know that color too well. It can only be described in my words as the color of dead elephant skin.

She tapped man with her new soft hands, and he woke up with shock to see a woman because the high god was yet to give him a wife. Man showered so much love and affection on ewe. He gave her anything she wanted. He took her to all parts of the forest and showed her all the beautiful things the high god had blessed him with. One night when man was drunk and intoxicated with palm-wine, ewe asked man to tell her the secret of his impenetrable skin. A few fake tears and man told her that a palm kernel oil that the high god had given him during his creation was the reason why his skin was so hard. He told her that he rubbed the palm kernel oil on his body every morning before leaving his hut.

The street lamps began to crumble just like they had done the day of the accident, the earth crumbling as the ground quaked. “Seems you could use a little help, little vamparina.” A masculine voice resonated in the air. Vamparina? There he stood, along with my parents, his eyes red, his black dreadlocks running down along his face, his muscles big, merging perfectly with his physique, his perfectly chiseled jawline with a black cloak on. “Blood!” They groaned. “Back to the underworld.” He said as he raised his hands. The air stood still, flame engulfing the creatures in a minute. Groans filled the air as they began to disintegrate into soot, flowing along with the wind.

It's in the way I run my fingers on her skin, feeling her silky smoothness, tracing every scar, bump, birthmarks, dips, and crevices of skin against skin tongues swirling as we scour our depths. One thing that struck me was her skin. Her hair was the darkest shade of black but somehow, she had gotten a tan skin which was quite unusual. Most women with jet black hair were mostly pale but her skin, like burnished gold under the candle lights as we tangled legs under the sheets.

I nudged the creature with the poker. It rolled onto its side. It wasn't a wolf. Not really. The snout was too long. The ears were notched in a way that suggested surgical precision rather than a forest scrap. But the most jarring part was the skin. Underneath the fur, the flesh was a pale, translucent white. No pigment. No tan. I knelt. My knees hit the dirt. I didn't reach for a tablet. I didn't look for a HUD. I used my fingers.

’ Julie thumbs in the direction of the staff that has been peering at us suspiciously. I mentally chuckle at their flushed crimson faces. These people are too pale for my liking. It’s hilarious how quickly their skin picks up shade irrespective of the emotions. I think it’s a con to have a washy complexion. It’s too much to handle. I prefer my ivory skin tone over the flawless skin tone of she-wolves. It’s not a chaos to maintain. You are almost transparent and easily readable. Once they blush, every single creature in the room would get the hinge.

Physically she’s here, but mentally, who knows where she is? “I thought she’d last longer. The crazy ones aren’t usually so easy to crack,” comes a voice to my left. I look over as a familiar ebony face walks over to me, sipping what smells like whiskey. With the dim lighting in this room, it takes me a second to realise he’s taken his headpiece off, that’s how dark his skin is. Skin darker than night and looking softer than satin. His natural black hair dyed silver and braided. The moment he smiles, his teeth almost light up the room.

Chris shot back without taking his eyes off me. I finally looked up at him and was met with the cold icy blue eyes I see everytime I look in a mirror. Most times I like to imagine I'm not part of this cruel family or pack but unfortunately I look just like my family. I have ivory skin just like my mother, dark almost jet black hair like my father and every single one of us have bright blue eyes. I looked back down since looking at him too long would probably result in a beating since he would see it as a challenge. I may be part wolf but without my wolf counterpart inside me like everyone else I don't heal as fast, not quite as strong or fast..

The hell is his problem? He looks at the guy next to him and grunts like they were having a private conversation. My eyes flick to the last individual who seem to be continually emitting black smoke from his body. He's nearly as tall as the giant and his skin resembled coal. His eyes a dark bottomless pit of anger & malice and his short hair the color of thick sticky tar.

He approaches a black panel of buttons and begins to type like a mad man. I can't help but watch his dark green body anxiously as he does. He looks like something out of my nightmares. His alligator-like skin covers his entire body, unlike the Gaimo soldiers who only have it in vulnerable places. His skin also seems impenetrable. I would bet it is three inches thick.