Shadow Singer Novels & Stories

A blood-curdling scream tore through the air as I plummeted from the skyscraper, blacking out before I hit the ground. "Lily." The camera lingered mercilessly on my mangled form. The voice was unhinged with madness. "You're finally going to die. Don't blame me. Blame yourself for being so vile. "You knew damn well I loved Shane, and you still went ahead and married him! "In this world, only I am meant to love him! Everyone who'd try to take him from me should die!" The screen quaked, the view flipped, and there was Joanna's twisted face, filling the big screen. The footage cut off abruptly.

“I had no idea who you were, and I had no idea you worked for Written Ink when I took the job. It was a sheer coincidence, but when you walked in, I recognised you immediately. Did you recognise me?” “Not until the end when you asked Prue to stay behind. There was something in your voice that reminded me of that moment in the club.” “Mr. Ice.” He smirked. I hated admitting it, but he was right. There was something about his ‘dark’ voice that turned me on. The demand and authority that his voice held captivated me as well as scared me.

I’m not anyone, I’m Aaliyah, assassin of the Italian mafia known as Shadow of death. There is no stopping me when I start. Every single last target had to die was my motto. If you didn’t plan to die any time soon then don’t approach me. But I had to restrain myself from killing the last one because I knew Dominic probably wanted to question him so I only knocked him out. I was back to normal and I turned my attention back to the people who were standing a few feet away from all of this that had just happened.

I ran to the door and pounded on it, but it wouldn't budge. The security guard was gone, and the space outside was swallowed by darkness. Even Lloyd had vanished. I backed against the door, my breaths shallow and frantic, clutching my phone as I fumbled to dial for help. Just as I opened my contact list, someone grabbed me from the side. An iron grip clamped around my neck, cutting off my air. "Mmph—!" Before I could scream, a rough hand covered my mouth, dragging me deeper into the shadows. The cold tiles scraped against my skin as I struggled, but my captor's strength was unyielding, like steel pressing into my body.

Then everything went black as I was shrouded in the shadows of goodbye to all that I had ever known. After what must have been hours later, I awoke in an unfamiliar place. Fog surrounds me as hooded figures chant in a strange language. I try to move but I can't because my arms and legs are tied to a boulder with weird cravings in it. I try to scream but my voice comes out as a mere whisper. Shadows dance on the walls of this desolate cave before the ground begins to shake. The hooded figures fall to their knees and keep their eyes on the trembling ground.

Malcolm was right behind him, his composure shattered, eyes darting nervously as he read my face. "Honey, when did you get back? Did you...hear anything?" He knew, just as I did, that what he was doing was a dark secret, a lie that could not stand the light. Yet he had brought her home, hiding behind the pretense of adoption and the role of a nanny to fool me. I could not help but laugh at the absurdity, my voice steady and smooth. "I just got back. Was there something I was supposed to hear? Or was it something you didn't tell me?"

Dad’s face paled at his words, shaken to his core. Then, the video returned to its original brightness. In a dark, filthy basement, a girl was strapped to an operating table, drugged. The Butcher’s voice was a hiss of hell. “It’s a special blend I prepared just for you, keeping you awake so we can enjoy every minute together. Don’t worry, the pain is enhanced, too.” There was the sound of a scalpel tearing flesh, and blood spilled everywhere. Then came my screams. “Dad… Mom… please, help me…”

The night they cynically came to the hospital she seemed rough and soulless but now she seemed like such a gentle and innocent woman. Perhaps God had put her in my path to convince me that this revenge was hurting me. Maybe she was more soulful than I thought and I was really wrong then. There was something else that caught my attention and that was those lyrics. They were so sad. They expressed a deep, deep pain. But who could hurt such a soul so deeply? The lines of the poem she wrote kept echoing in my mind: “With feet lost in the fine sand I’m heading for the shore, shy and tentative

Ooh, now we know why there is so much resentment towards Owino. He ruined her life, she spent her days sobbing, Angela hid her from public, she covered her face with hijab whenever she left the house, depression killed her slowly. She missed the biggest gig of her life, Angela had to chip in for her, she won the contest and spend all the cash on her therapy Angela stood up and cleaned the utensils, the clatter of dishes and clinching of cutleries were loud that drove across the rooms which sent chills down Amanda’s spine, she woke up, and calmed her down.

“Relax, lightning bug. You were unconscious, not my type. I prefer my girls screaming with enthusiasm, not fever induced hallucinations.” I growled, sparks flickering at my fingertips. “I swear to the goddess, if you even touched me…” “Oh, I touched you,” he said, gaze flicking down my form deliberately. “Had to carry you. Over the threshold, no less. Very romantic. Too bad you were drooling.” “HADES!” His laughter boomed through the room, full of unholy joy. He was loving this. The panic. My rage. Me wrapped in nothing but a blanket…my shame.