Supernatural Arts Novels & Stories

However, the word he had earlier heard interrupted his flow of thoughts, and the emotions that were creeping into him. Arthmata, Arthmata, Arthmata. The words resounded in his head in the very manner and pace the woman had said it. It, however, sounded more of a ghostly echo. Who was that woman? And what the hell is Arthmata? The woman looked worried when he met her. Their car had rammed into a truck. However, one thing caught his eye- Her eyes. When he first saw them, the top right quarter of her iris was red, the top left corner green, a the lower right quarter blue and the remaining quarter orange, and it seemed to glow dimly. The pupil was black, but it was blacker that the pupil anyone

Unlike the girl, he’s wearing black leather pants and is bare-chested. Nevaeh moves close to the painting, then gives me an appraising stare. But before she can say anything, an older woman steps forward. “It’s quite beautiful, isn’t it? It’s called “Supernatural Heart,” the artist captures a pure love very vividly.” Taking a step back, I try to create some distance between the picture and me, but the woman continues. “Cassia Garron is a wonderful artist. This is one of her darkest portraits. You should see some of her other work. She’s quite talented.” Nevaeh gapes. She’s definitely making the correlation between me and the painting.

“How do you know that?” Rowan shrugs. “I’ve stumbled upon a few other supernaturals over the past year. A lot of them are surprisingly chatty. Especially after they figure out that I’m a vampire.” He shrugs his bony shoulders. “There’s this angel that works at the blood bank that gives me blood bags when he can. He’s pretty cool. Said that I reminded him of his kid. He even gave me a book on supernaturals.” He says as he rifles through a nearby bag and produces the book. “Here.” He tosses it to me before he turns back and begins to unfold blankets across the mattress. “I’m tired, man. You can stay if you want. Just don’t try anything funny.”

Including the Card's passcode at that. However, what caught his attention was the certain information given about the creator of the Card that says: [Creator: Helix Nebula Pavilion] But that wasn't what intrigued him, it was the next texts provided by the system. [Error! The System has no information about the Helix Nebula Pavilion] What does that mean? The Scan Skill has idenfied the Card's Creator but it can't provide further information about it? The system clearly stated that it can provide information to the things that was seen, heard and identified by humans.

she said. “Outside of Havermouth, Aislen,” she continued taking the empty teacup from Aislen’s hand. “The country, the world, is up in arms. The supernatural world is exposed in a way that has never before occurred in our history, and the humans are afraid and seeking to control what they’re afraid of. Politicians are passing Bills requiring the registration of supernaturals, requesting that any suspected supernatural is reported, and that our children not attend schools. There are travel restrictions, employment restrictions, and more. Far more.”

It was a whole can of worms that wasn't meant to be broadcasted to those who couldn't even handle their own shit without the threat of a complete societal collapse, let alone understanding the complexities that none of them would be able to understand on a rational level. It drained me even thinking about that. Tossing the file into my to-do bin, I grabbed a few more and sorted through them one by one. Figuring out my schedule for the rest of the month wouldn't be hard but judging by the new pile on my desk, as well as the ones already sitting in my bins, I was in for a long fall season. There was always something about this time of year that drove the supernaturals into a weird frenzy. With

"Well I wouldn't say that ...but it is in the area. It looks very...real." "They say that the artist was a man of witchcraft and that he put spells on his works so that those that gaze upon his works would feel every bit of it from the thunder to the death ," He said, his voice serious, "...but that's just horsecrap. That is, unless you believe in the supernatural ." His tone had changed to a creepy one and I knew he was only playing mind games with me. One thing was for sure, magic or not, this artist was very gifted.

I follow him into the secluded space, and once we're out of earshot from potential passersby, I ask the question that's been bothering me since I discovered my new ability. "How many different kinds of subs are there? What kind are you? Where are others? Are there any here at the college?" His eyebrows rise slightly at my barrage of questions. "That's quite a lot to cover in five minutes." "Just the basics, then." He considers for a moment, then leans against the stone retaining wall. "There are seven primary classifications of supernaturals, though there are numerous subcategories and hybrid variations." "Seven?" I press. "What are they?"

I ask. "Supernaturals is the biological and physical science of our species. We learn about our abilities, strengths, and weaknesses," Sara replies. "Well then, this should be fun." After finishing breakfast, Sara, William, Kira, and Sean head to our next class. We arrive early and each take a seat. As the minutes go by, the room slowly gets occupied as more students arrive.

The work was beginning real work, unfiltered by institutional concerns, driven purely by the desire to understand the full spectrum of supernatural cooperation. Selene opened a fresh journal the first of what she suspected would be many. "The Verdant Archive: Year One. In which we choose growth over control, diversity over uniformity, questions over answers. In which the architect learns to be a gardener, planting seeds of understanding and trusting that forests will grow in their own time, according to their own nature." Outside, the city hummed with the usual chaos of supernatural beings navigating shared space. The confederation still coordinated much of that interaction, still provided v