Sans Head Novels & Stories

She tried to cough and gasp for air but it was useless. As the figures get nearer to her, she can finally see some colors. From the people behind, she saw a man in red shirt with tattoos on his arm, another is a man holding a crane with a missing leg on the other, another was a girl wearing an apron and a ring on her hand, another was a priest wearing a white cassock with a glowing rosary around his neck, and last is a lady in pink dress with a fedora hat. They all don’t have faces, Selene can only see their figures and what they were wearing.

“Don’t shoot!” “Who are you?!” “I’m a friend! “Who are you?! Speak up before I blow your fucking brains off.” That was when I knew that his headset was not allowing any sound to get in. I pointed to his ears. “Are you saying that I’m crazy? Is that what you’re saying? I will blow your brains off!” I shook my head, then pointed at the headset as I made a gesture of my hand, removing an invisible headset from my ears. He nodded and removed his headset. “Oh, I can hear now.”

Nicholas looks like he’s been through a blender. His usually perfectly coiffed hair is a nest of dark tangles, and he’s wearing his sunglasses indoors, which is never a good sign. He sheepishly reaches out to take the keys, his hand trembling just enough for the metal to jingle. "God, Sydney," he groans, pressing his free hand against his temple as if he’s trying to keep his brain from leaking out of his ears. "My head is literally killing me. I think I can hear the sun. Why is it so loud?"

EVELLESSA The next morning, I woke up with two things: 1. A headache. 2. A mate problem. Massive mate problem. Cassain’s faint scent still lingers on my skin—the cold, addicting mix of winter rain and lightning that somehow gets under my ribs and refuses to leave. I scrub my neck twice. Doesn’t help. Aretha hums. Aretha: You smell like him. Good. Me: Shut up. Aretha: Maybe roll in his sheets again—

He began, "The good news is that Adrian is ok. He looks healthy." Silence fell upon them. Heather couldn't take the suspense anymore and inquired, "And what about the bad news?" Henry heaved a sigh. He frowned and answered, "Adrian hit his head during the crash and so, he's lost his memory. I'm sorry, Heather. He doesn't remember any of us." A gasp echoed through the phone and Henry could tell that Heather was sobbing. She remarked, "So that's why he didn't call..."

Drinking the cold water didn't seem to alleviate the throbbing in her head; instead, it felt like it was getting worse. "Don't sleep here," Nathan's command echoed in Haisley's head. She leaned her hips against the desk, both hands gripping the edge to maintain her balance. Her head tilted back, and she looked at Nathan with narrowed eyes, hoping her gaze could focus on the handsome figure before her.

“You must be hilarious, Lucian. I knew something was off with the way you kept trying to piss me off. Even if you shoved your hand into my chest, you wouldn’t find a heart there. I’m fucking blank. Tear me to pieces, and I’ll still come back together.” A spine suddenly stretched from the neck, snapping down to the head, and with the speed of light, it reattached to the body. The head twisted backward before snapping forward again and locking eyes with Lucian—those red irises glinting with twisted delight. Seth’s brows furrowed as the men behind him reeled in shock. ‘Did his head just go back to his body?’ ‘Holy shit. I thought we were here to defeat a Lycan, not some scary-ass zombie son of

“Woah, Little One. It’s me.” Vali whispers and Eliza relaxes a little, but keeps looking around her as he approaches. “You snapped their necks?” She nods, “Why not kill them?” She raises an eyebrow and whispers back, “I don’t have anything to take their heads off with, and this would suffice until I could figure out what was going on. They might have been your allies or something, I didn’t want to piss her off more.” He nods, and moves them to one side then rips their heads off and comes back to her.

When the dressing part was over, she secured her mass of hair in a high ponytail at the back of her head, as much to allow the air to get to her neck on such a hot day as anything else, and tied it with a white ribbon that hung demurely at either side of the red curls. The reflection in the mirror bore no resemblance at all to the trembling, distraught figure of Friday night. Except for a certain look in the eyes, and a large pair of tinted sunglasses fixed that. Alanis nodded determinedly to the figure in the glass. She looked good, ready to rumble.

I said with a much lackluster in me that I redefined the meaning of sarcasm. Suddenly and totally unexpected on my part she hit the brakes. If not for my body being secured by the seat belt, I would have been thrown forward, head slam into the dashboard, cracked skull, cut on my forehead, blood dripping down to my nose, dizziness and I'm petty sure I would have had a concussion as well by now.