Project Gutenberg Heart Of Darkness Novels & Stories

Chapter 1: Dysfunctional family. The darkness is nothing more than a test that God gives us, many times to overcome things and learn from it, but in the end we all carry that darkness in our hearts, we just have to decide whether to expel it or let it dwell within you. Charlotte is a girl who has been in the dark since she was born, her parents were shitty to her, she was beaten and mistreated unjustifiably simply because her parents wanted it that way, but to understand a little of this story we must return to the past.

His raven black short hair shines at the light of the small chandelier, although his bangs cover his eyes as he looked down, Ariz knew how beautiful his emerald green eyes are. Nobel Damian Lewis is his full name. At the age of 23, he is already a well-known parapsychologist, professor/researcher in British Society for Psychic Research that studied paranormal activities both those blamed to be cause by entities, and those believed to be cause by the mysterious ability of human mind. Aside from his genius mind, Nobel is also popular because of his handsome looks. With the height of 5’11, a lean body, and his pale white skin, people once asked her if her boss is a real living vampire.

- a man holds an envelope in the hands of a librarian - A familiar name, and I have already heard a surname somewhere. Duk picks up the package and rips it open thoughtfully. The paper wrapper falls to the floor. Duk holds a book, reads the title - Living in Darkness. He looks at her for a couple of seconds and breaks into a sly smile.

"What's this? A mysterious invitation to join the secret society of curious investigators?" I chuckled, breaking the seal and pulling out an intricately folded piece of paper. The words were elegant, each letter a testament to meticulous care: "Intrigue awaits the brave. Midnight of the 11th. The Velvet Shadow. - A.P." A shiver ran down my spine, the implications of the message sinking in. The Velvet Shadow, the place where chaos had erupted just a night ago, was calling me back. Alexei Pushkin had extended an invitation, and the choice to accept or decline lingered in the air like an unspoken challenge.