Soul Snatcher Head Novels & Stories

It questioned back. "I'm the one asking the questions around here." I stated. The soul laughed at me. "And what made me obliged to answer you? You are nothing." He replied. I knew that this was an indirect challenge to my status. I immediately pulled out the mirror in my bag pack and said the words: "Hell summonte hell arosente death take never returnt." A huge red demon with the body of a muscular and furry beast and the head and neck of a python emerged from the ground.

Alberto picked the head out of the box. " Geez Snake, he really did a number on you", Alberto said to the head before returning it back to the box. " So what are we gonna do about this?", I asked with my hands on my waist. " About what? the head? we bury it of course", he said as he took in another huge puff. " No not the head", I said, " my brother. I sent you to kill him and all I got is a head in a box that wasn't his", I said breathing anxiously, " If we don't get him, he's gonna get us", I said.

The second I enter the main hall, I see three warriors pinning a struggling man against the floor. The scent hits me immediately. Not from my pack. Rogue. My aura darkens dangerously. The rogue laughs weakly despite blood running from his mouth. “There she is…” he rasps while looking upstairs directly toward Jasmine’s scent. Every instinct inside me becomes lethal instantly. “What do you want with her?” I growl. The rogue grins. Then says the one sentence that makes the entire room freeze. “The cursed Luna belongs to the Shadow Wolves.”

Damien took his seat opposite Silas and said in an indifferent voice, “Not bad.” “And do you like my centerpiece?” Silas pointed at the large wolf head, “It belonged to an Alpha that I killed on the battlefield. I chopped off his head and brought it back and made it into a sample. I think it makes a nice ornament in my Counseling Hall. Don’t you think?” Aurora gritted her teeth in fury. …That bastard. Damien’s lips lifted into an icy smile, and he said, “It is nice. Maybe I ought to get one of these in my pack as well…I think your head will do.”

“How did you—” One of them, the tallest and biggest one, was so fast that I failed to follow his movements. In just a few seconds, he was already in front of me with a huge, disgusting grin on his face. His black hair reached his shoulders and there was a deep, horizontal scar slashed from both side of his face. My eyes widened in both terror and shock when he grabbed me by the neck and almost lifted me from the floor, choking me. “So you are the one that has been giving master Ambrose massive headaches.” his snarl rumbled low and sharp

Bottom of Form Snake had begun to move around now, but had also had the sense to know that once someone saw him, they would never forget his face. His forehead dipped unnaturally, as if part of the bone had been caved in and never set right, leaving his skull with a warped, uneven slope. Deep lines carved his face into a permanent scowl, the corners of his mouth hooked in a way that suggested contempt rather than accident. The single eye that remained was sharp, watchful, and cold—a predator’s gaze, sizing up everything around him. His disfigurement wasn’t something that made him pitiable; it seemed to harden him, to give his presence a kind of raw, unnerving authority. When he entered a roo

From afar, it looked like it contained a saxophone or any other similar instrument, but what was in it was far different. She got to the top floor, packed her brunette hair into a tight pony tail and opened the suitcase. She removed a baseball cap from it and forced it on her head which was a tight fit. Next, she brought out a pair of black leather gloves and hurriedly wore it as she checked her digital watch. The time was 1:11pm, which meant that she had four more minutes to execute her mission. She removed the last thing in the suitcase which was a sniper gun, as she maneuvered the long weapon towards the window and looked through the scope at a high class restaurant ab

John inquired, the moment he stopped beside me as he eyed the bloody pile ahead. Ignoring his inquiries, my narrowed eyes abruptly spotted something familiar; it was what resembled Alpha Max’s Gamma—that is, what was left of him. I padded closer and bent to retrieve his severed head, lifting it up as I stood upright, hanging it closer to my face as I silently observed it—it was him, alright. Three angry-deep claw marks decorated most of his face, making it unrecognisable but I could still scent his ordinary scent, slightly tainted with decay.