Predators Novels & Stories

After begging my dad for the 100th time to let me come back home for school, he finally gave in. Before the semester started, he warned me repeatedly. “There is an underground clique around campus. Every year, they single out one freshman who attracts too much attention and make that person their punching bag. “They are careful about covering their tracks. We’ve looked into them for a long time and still have nothing solid. Keep your head down and watch your back.” I nodded, then I remembered that I had recently joined the incoming-freshman group chat. I opened it and intended to ask if anyone knew anything about the clique, only to discover that someone had tagged me. [Damn, we found

A final encrypted message appeared on a secure terminal meant only for Joel: “One nest down. Forty-three to go. The next target is closer than you think.” Joel closed his notebook, the weight of hidden order pressing upon him. The hunters were still being hunted. And IZO was always watching, He stared at the number, a cold realization settling deep. The game had only just begun and the predator was always one step ahead, learning, adapting, waiting for the perfect moment to strike again.

A 21-year-old with God Complex and the means to get whatever he wants without any consequences turned him into the monster he was meant to be. It was a one-way path into destruction, everyone can see it but no one said a thing. They all stood by and watched as Armand Lombardo rose and became the man they all fear most. For Ari, things were getting even more difficult because the monster was the love of her life and she's the only one who occupies his sinister wretched heart.

Author Whitley Strieber says we humans are just a different kind of predator. "Our prey is our planet," he says. Today's fear is not the Cold War or AIDS, it's the fate of the Earth: "We sense that there is something wrong with the environment, that the planet itself may not be able to sustain us very long, and so we are beginning to romance death once again." Maybe it gets back to that very American notion that we have laws and constitutions to keep our baser instincts in check. New York Times columnist Ross Douthat wrote recently: "We are beasts with self-consciousness, predators with ethics, mortal creatures who yearn for immortality."

Under the heat of the sun, the predator pressed further, sweating, and the prey drifted backwards with agony, resisting. After a short successive push and pull display, the predator wiped the sweat on his forehead and squeezed again but the grasscutter responded with an intense force. Drawing away from the prey, the predator cleaned the fresh blood on his wrist. "Give me a sharp knife," the predator yelled. "It is too strong for me to kill. How is it possible to kill a grasscutter without using a knife or a machete?" A boy moved close to the predator and gave him a knife. "You can use this. It will make its death quicker," he said.

They were too great in numbers. The loud chattering of the curious crowd became silent as we saw our leader Bazaar Wharr accompanied by 7 of his strongest werewolf hunters. Werewolf hunters were the ones who search for werewolves and capture them so we can learn about their weaknesses. Over the years they have managed to find one weakness of them and that was metal or the piece of iron I saw within the werewolf boy I foolishly saved years ago. It can weaken and kill them if aimed at the right spot of their body. All eyes gazed upon Bazaar a 40-year-old white hair and dark eye man. He was in his armour with his sharp sword at his side. He was quite fit for his age and looked younger.

“Dm!” Windy felt scared when he had to hunt with Ezra; he involuntarily cursed. Since hunting with Ezra was very risky and laborious, it was not according to standard rules but special training. The prey they caught must not die; it must be alive. The prey they just caught will not be kept but must be released, and they have to track down the prey they have just seen. And that will repeat many times until Ezra stops.

Lucas spoke up, the hard look in his eye sending his cousin off silently. It took everything Chloe had to suck air into her lungs and not sink to the ground when Lucas took just a few dominating strides towards her. Being werewolf blessed Chloe with supernatural senses and yet the shadows of night and light of the moon only sharpened Lucas’ features even more. There was something wild and yet put together in everything about Lucas. A true apex predator who had fixed his sights on his latest prey.

he picked up the gun that was carelessly thrown aside. He already spotted a few of the elk footprints nearby. If he followed it around, he might be able to find a few elks. “Hey, what is the condition of winning?” “The one with the heaviest prey wins.” “Only elks?” “Anything. A few will hunt rabbits and make it up in weight. A few will hunt predators. We have a few brown bears which have migrated around here. It’s dangerous for or young wolves so the one who hunts the predator wins without any reserve of weight,”

Everything that gets in their way ages and dies. Rana's vibrations encourage the animals from the forest to attack. The moose use their majestic antlers as weapons and spears everything that gets in their way. The wide-open terrifying maws of the grizzly bears and sharp claws cut through the flesh of their opponents. With cunning skill attacking in packs, the wolves tear their preys to shreds. The birds blind the enemy with their flapping wings and peck ruthlessly with their sharp beaks anywhere they can access.