Stephen King Billy Summers Novels & Stories

he said, giving him a smile that rocked him to the core. "Did you kill my mother, Mr. Summers?" Patch asked softly. "Did you kill your wife? Did you plan to kill your son's girlfriend, too? How about the drugs being sold around town. The new pool you're putting in, and the new car Beth is driving. Is that worth it? To sell drugs to children in town, and become a local legend because you're a serial killer?" Mr. Summers laughed, and ran his fingers over his silver hair. "I took care of you. You know I'm not a serial killer. Wouldn't I have hurt you—,"

he cautioned. "Come on, Billy. How bad can it possibly be? A mobster? A murderer?" I pressed, my curiosity growing. Billy's expression turned slightly sickly. "It's worse than that," he said. "What could be worse?" I demanded. "Well, let's just say that if you challenge Ace, you'll be continuing a family tradition of confronting an alpha," he replied cryptically. "That's enough, Billy. Spit it out," I snapped impatiently. "Your father is Harold Kingson," Billy dropped the bombshell.

Sunny Sweeny-Summer of 1987 At about 10:30 on the morning of August 31, 1987, Rory Collins went to visit his friends James and Sunny Sweeney. The Sweeneys were brothers and sisters in their twenties. James was twenty-three, and his sister was twenty-eight. They lived with their mother, Grace Sweeney, in a patio garden apartment in Ashville, Maryland, in Baltimore County. When Mr. Collins approached the apartment, he noticed that the patio door was ajar. He looked into the living room and saw Sunny's face lying face down in a pool of blood. The cause of death was discovered later.

“What’s the matter, dear? What happened to you? Should we send you to the hospital?” “I’m fine,” Summer replied, shaking her head. “I’m just… so shocked! Oh my God, Atticus, that Tanya suddenly went rabid and wrapped her fingers around my neck. She was trying to kill me, Atticus! I’m never going back to see her again, and Jackson isn’t going to, either! I don’t know what kind of horrors that woman could put him through. I’m terrified for the only son I have! That woman is mentally ill! Quick… Call your son!”

Moments June would cherish forever if something were to happen. “I can’t wait to make you my queen.” Hunter said, pulling away and making eye contact. June just smiled back, anxious to get this battle over with. They both walked over and looked out the window, watching as the werewolves slowly made their way through the woods. They couldn't see them, but they could sense them. Their presence. It was evil.

Boom… It felt as if a bomb had been dropped on the crowd. Everyone had their eyes wide open while they looked in Tyr Summers’ direction. Was this a joke? Was this fellow really Mr. Summers? None of them were more surprised than Stephen Cole and Paul Cole. Right then, Stephen Cole was still shivering from the shock he experienced. “This can’t be. Is this a joke?” “Tyr Summers is a coward who doesn’t even have the guts to step into the fighting ring. How could he possibly be Mr. Summers?”

Lucien said his eyes darkened in warning Her mother's head twicth erratically for it to slow and stare up at the ceiling "Well... let me fill her in then" "You are my mum.... what have they done to you!?" Summer said devastated "Your mother?" She laughed bitterly "I am not your mother... i never have been" "You're lying...what the hell is going on?" Summer said looking at Lucien who started back at her saddened "Summer.....that thing standing in front of you..." "I dont want to know!" Summer cried "She is a banshee" Lucien said Summer felt sick, her voice had taken a childish tone, she was distraught

Summer's fault for making me watch the effing crap every week when it had been on air. That was our relationship. She remembered climbing the birches near the creek and laughing. I remembered crying hysterically when she fell and broke her arm. She remembered the dancing and ambiance of senior prom. I remembered the navy dress she wore and the linebacker's hands on her. Summer-damn-Quinn saw the world as if it was a painting waiting to be created. I only saw her.

“Are you interested in some props for the Last Day of Summer Fest? We offer free juice and photos on the side.” “When is the day?" “Pardon?” Valentina looked over at her like she was staring at a grade two child. “When is the fest?” Colleen had no idea so she looked to Tobias for help and thankfully, he answered. “21st of this month. A few superstars like Johnny Crane, and Naomi Statham will be in attendance. I would recommend you get a summer hat for the occasion but unfortunately, we’re sold out. So, how about a tee shirt?”

Nobody is going to come to me. Talking about me, my name is Theodore Reigns. I'm 16, about to enter Junior year in two months when the school reopens after summer break. But to be honest, right now I think it's highly unlikely cause I'm here attending this three day Art camp for next year's senior students, that too in disguise as Elena Griffin, Eastwood's best artist, and so if I get caught, I guess I won't have to go to school again.