Novelas y relatos de The Licked Hand Scary Story

Hand sliding to the base before pulling up to the tip and off taking most of the blood into his hand. She should have felt horror and disgust again as he brought his hand up to his mouth and began to lick his palm clean. A cold shutter was all she could manage as she looked away from him and into the broken mirror over the sink. Finally seeing her appearance and taking in fully what he had done to her.

Lucian yelled while backing into the wall. The hand twitched. Everyone jumped like popcorn kernels in a hot pan. “Why is it moving,” Marek asked. His voice dropped to the very dangerous quiet tone he used when he fully expected something to explode in the next three seconds. “It is alive,” I said. “That is why.” Lucian pointed at it with a broom he must have stolen from the supply closet. “Hands do not float.” “This one does,” Marek said. The hand twitched again, this time curling its fingers more sharply, like it wanted to grab someone by the throat. Or wave. Hard to know.

~EMILIA MONROE~ My hands wouldn’t stop trembling. Even after I woke, even after I scrubbed hard at my skin, I could still feel the rough hands of Jackson's friends clutching me, their foul laughter in my ears, their weight pressing me to the ground. And then the wolf. The big black wolf with eyes like burning coals. Its snarl still echoed in my mind.

Surrounded by the crowd's excitement, Xander blushed and reluctantly bit down on one end of the cookie. The butter cookie was so fragile that it quickly teetered on the verge of breaking. To keep it from falling, Xander and Natasha had no choice but to inch closer. The crowd grew louder, chanting, "Kiss! Kiss!" Finally, their lips brushed against each other. With a sharp crack, the cookie shattered and fell to the floor. Xander's earlobes quickly turned red, and he lowered his gaze, his lashes trembling. It was obvious he felt something for Natasha.

Her voice came out low, unrecognizable, a promise whispered into the cold. Her lips curled, broken and bloodstained. “They want a villain?” she whispered, staring at the mangled stump that used to be her hand. “Fine. They’ll get a one-handed one.”

“This. No, I can’t give you. It will hurt you. You are still a baby.” “I’m three”, she replied with a glare and immediately dragged the dagger from her. “Amanda, stop”, Anna said and drag the dagger from her but ended up cutting her hand. “Oh goddess, Amanda I’m sorry”, Anna said and held Amanda’s hand which was bleeding. “Mummy”, she shouted. Surprisingly, Amanda wasn’t crying. She was laughing as she looked at the blood in her hand. She removed her hand from Anna’s and licked the blood. “Anna, what-”, Angela said but stopped when she saw Amanda licking her own blood. “Oh goddess, what the hell is happening?” she asked with wide eyes as Amanda continued licking the blood.

A warm nasty breath leaned down onto me and whispered in my ear, "I can't let you get away," he said, his hand moving up to my face. I tried to move away but was trapped. His hand traced my hairline, moving my hair away and leaving the scar on my face clearly visible. I was trembling in fear as I was trapped under him. His nasty breath on my neck and his calloused hand felt dirty compared to the way Jax would touch me. His hand trailed down my jaw as it shook with fear, trailing down to the mark my mate gave me.

Lisanna recreated a scary scene that made people scared to witness this scene. The other man's hand was smashed by Delis. Even the bones were broken. Blood, flesh and bones mixed together to form a disgusting pile of slime. The other man's hands were no longer intact, those hands were crushed like crushed pieces of meat. Delis's face remained expressionless like an executioner's. Even if the man's blood splashed on Delis's face, it would not change Delis's expression.

Andra and Jack had drinks before them and Andra was tipsy already, her body movements, irregular and somewhat dazed. She knew she was drunk but she was aware of a level of control she still had over herself. Jack was telling her a funny story about his childhood as he poured the drink into the empty glass she had just finished. He talked about how he stole powdered milk from the pantry in the house and was denying it before his mother who spotted traces of the powdered milk around his mouth.

I didn’t see anything in his hands when he started to chase me. Werewolf claw. That’s what did it. Giggling at my own silliness, I open the shower and wince when the warm water hit the open wounds. Allowing the tears to flow freely, I lean with my forehead against the wall, watching the bloody water swirl around the drain. An image of the deranged Neanderthals storming me flashes through my head, then something I saw but either forgot or chose to ignore - Lefty’s hand mutating into a claw just as I turned my back on him.