Scrooge Novels & Stories

determined to do it. Taking out a matchstick...he rubs it against the match box... tries to light it , to only groan in irritated. "This stupid matchstick! Why isn't it lighting!!" He screams when suddenly, slow winds start approaching. The friend laying on the ground looked afraid, noticing the change in the aura of the place. "Please... let's go ...I feel something-" "Ah shut up! You coward! Don't tell me that you really believe that sh**! "

He turns and looks. “I’m pretty sure I saw him outside the packhouse when we left.” He links back. “Act like your phone is ringing and go outside to pick up the call.”I link Marcus as I’m still ordering our third pizza. Marcus picks up his phone, “Hey Gideon, I’m going to take this. “Pointing to his phone. I nod, and Marcus goes outside to take his fake call. As soon as Marcus is outside, our friend in the dark blue hoodie pulls his hood down more and turns and walks down the street. As he was pulling his hoodie down, I saw a jagged scar on the back of his hand, very distinctive.

Yet, he had no time to watch them further as his opponents swung their swords again. Meanwhile, the biggest and most scared of the newcomers lowered the buffalo horn in his hand, his eyes dark and dangerous. He was none other than Maddox Stormbringer, Scorch of the Sea, King of the Glacial Coast. Over his pants of black bear fur, his board chest wore nothing but the trophies of victories, and in his right rested the hilt of his trusted two-bladed axe.

Lana points to a page on the journal, “Le destructeur de tous et de ses proches, la mort, la guerre et la Pestilence, récolteront la destruction de tous. Le sacrifice de l'humanité sera son champion. Si l'amour et la bonté prévalent, le monde sera sauvé. Si la mort et l'avidité réussissent, la fin sera un nouveau commencement rempli de mort, d'assujettissement et de destruction.” I interpret it out loud, “The destroyer of all and her kin, death, war, and Pestilence, shall reap the destruction of all. Humanity's sacrifice shall be its champion. Should love and goodness prevail, the world will be saved. Should death and greed succeed, the end shall be a new beginning filled with death, subjuga

“I…Hello, Professor. I…I am Scarlet Lozenge, and this is my friend, Evangelica Michelangelo.” Scarlet introduced herself and Eva to Dankein Cosh. Eva had been drooling over Dankein and the man saw this through the corner of his eyes but stayed unbothered.

his words sharp and edged with disbelief. Sarai’s heart raced as she dared to peek through the keyhole. Her breath caught in her throat, her sapphire eyes widening in horror. What she saw sent a chill down her spine—Hugo standing amidst the wreckage, his sea-green eyes locked on a monstrous figure she barely recognized. It was a wolf, but not just any wolf. This one had light brown fur with a black patch across its back, its amber eyes glowing with a cruel intensity. The creature stood beside another, darker figure—Malrik—his grin wide with satisfaction.

Alpha Jones held his hand to lift him up but he resisted. "That's who he is. He came to disunite us in this Manor" Sophie buttressed. "Yes, this is who I am" Scott stood up to his feet. His face had changed. He was no longer looking like Scott. His face was disgusting with a long scar running across his face. "Then who the hell are you?" Sophie challenged him. "I am Kratos" he said boldly. "Kratos or Scott or whatever you are" Alpha Jones paused to stare at Sophie. "You are still my Beta and that will remain as that" he enforced stamping his foot on the ground.

Scar sits up, realizing her trick failed, she starts bargaining, “Give me a good reason why I have to do it.” “You are giving him two billion dollars, and you don’t even want a thank you from him?” Silco answers with a question. “Nope, I’m THAT generous,” Scar fakes a smile. Silco laughs at her capricious tantrum, teasing: “Well, I’m not. I want my money spent with the beneficiary acknowledging it.” “I’ll acknowledge it!” Scar pleas, “You are doing this for me, no?” “Okay,” Silco complies with her plea, smirking: “So you are saying, it’s YOU who wants to save Sebastian Knight, not me?”

My voice was a low, dangerous growl. A shadow moved behind a large, gray rock and a man stepped out. He was tall, but his body was twisted. He had a long scar that ran from his ear to his chin, making his face look like it was held together by string. He wore a coat made of mismatched furs—some dog, some wolf, some deer. This was Vane. The man who had broken my ribs and left me to die in a ditch when I was just a boy. He was the leader of the "Scavengers," a group of rogues who did anything for a coin.