Novelas y relatos de Pulp Fiction

The entire process took less than thirty seconds. He then stood up and dusted off his hands. "He can't be saved. His pupils are already dilated. Find somewhere to bury him." I heard a buzz in my head. "What did you just say?" I lunged forward and grabbed his collar. "You barely checked him, but you already came to a conclusion? Did you even examine him properly?" The doctor staggered back. He clearly looked irritated. "Are you the doctor here, or am I? If I say he's gone, he's gone. What's there left to check in this condition?"

He thought about the garage, about three years of believing his own bad decisions had built the hole he'd fallen into, and felt something shift uncomfortably in his chest at the idea that the hole itself might have been dug for him, by someone else's hands entirely, long before he'd ever picked up the shovel. He paid for the coffee neither of them had drunk, left the diner into a night gone colder than it had been an hour ago, and drove home slowly, replaying Marco's voice, ask her about a girl named Sofia, watch Nico's face when she does, and wondered, all the way back, whether tomorrow was going to be the day his sister's whole careful, patient life finally came apart at every seam at once

And the dining hall erupted in laughter. "Oh my god. Callum. What do I do with youuu". Stephen was laughing and Callum facepalmed. He called for trouble himself. ************* They were in their office. Free from today's schedule. Saint had prepared different glasses of blood. Callum sniffed all. They all had a faint whiff of Stephen blood. They all were enjoying their drinks, looking for the reaction. Callum took each glass. One by one. He would sniff and then take a sip.. He would cut down the taste with water. Then another. Finally he picked one. He took one sip and another and another. His eyes shone crimson as he licked his blood strained lips.

His gun fell out of his hand and clattered against the concrete that had been soaked by the rain. Letting out a groan, Nicholas managed flinged his assailant over his shoulder, giving him the upper hand . The man groaned as he struck the ground hard. The second assailant made a lunge but he dodged the attack. Nicholas sent the attacker a vicious elbow to the jaw. He faltered. Nicholas only needed that. Without thinking, he turned and took off. The attackers were still on the ground and still getting up to chase after him, but Nicholas was more familiar with this place than they were. He threw himself over a metal fence, landed hard, and continued on. Behind him, there was gunfire. The sound

I let out a small smile. “I found the man I love laying in his pool of blood. I witnessed two men being shot in front of me already. I am pretty sure I can handle blood”, I told him. He handed me the picture and I immediately wished I hadn't seen it. The same man was laying on the ground shot with his face separated in two. The scene was disturbing in many ways. I felt the urge to vomit almost immediately. “Rose didn't show any remorse at all. The case is pretty bad. His father won't rest until he gets justice. So, in other words, we are doomed” he said. I understood the seriousness of the situation.

The knife at his back had already been drawn and was almost… a fatal stab was about to land on Oksidan’s chest when suddenly the middle-aged man screamed hysterically. “Wait, Nightroe! I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Don’t play dumb. We all know you deliberately mixed a dose of poison into my drink to kill me slowly.” Nightroe hissed, but eventually… Oksidan’s expression of confusion left some things filled with unexpected gaps. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” the middle-aged man added to clarify… just in case; something was wrong here. Of course. Nightroe wasn’t easily swayed. There was a gunshot wound on Oksidan’s arm, and he didn’t hesitate to press on it until t

He patted my shoulder and plopped onto the bar stool beside me. "Did everything go as planned with the shipment?" "Yup. We took care of that Crips crew who were messing with our clubs up there. I needed a goddamn break after that shit. They're like fucking ants. Keep coming and you don't know where from." I threw back the rest of my whiskey and wiped the residue with my sleeve. "LA was the same way. They're not worth the time unless they're working for me." "Man, fuck LA. Some random bitch tried to mug me when Marcel and I were there for a deal a few weeks back. No fucking respect, I swear."

For Gertrude Ferdson, it was just another seemingly normal calm night, sitting on her home office desk and going through her notes for the following class; only she couldn't concentrate with the thoughts of her missing stepdaughter in mind. Sonny had missing for days and not only her but another one of her students had disappeared too. Garvin Maurice had missing too and his uncle, one of hers and Paul's closest friend, had been found dead in his mansion. Apparently he choked on Hennessey. But that was not the feeling that bothered her the most. It was unshakable. Like something bad was bound to happen no matter what. And she knew all these came from the fact that she and her husband had been

I could now feel the pain in my ribs because of his heavy weight on my body. He slept carelessly, as if he hadn't committed a heinous crime the night before. But it's not a crime in his eyes because he hasn't raped me. According to him, he has simply took the return of the financial assistance he provided to me because he does not believe in charity.

Pragati POV . . . I turned my face in the other direction, and my eyes landed on the home theater where I saw that the lady was watching the man in pain, and then out of nowhere she took out a gun and placed it on his head. I felt the same had happened before. I felt this scene the same as my dream. She immediately pulled the trigger and shot that man in his head. I couldn’t breathe, and in no time darkness consumed me. . .