Novel & Cerita The Living Dead Novel

"Are you saying that there are other vampire breeds called the undead? You know, back in my world, the undead are referred to as zombies." "Zombies?" "Dead people coming to life and eating other people. The only way to kill them is by shooting their brain." "That is disgusting." Nate wrinkled his nose as he stopped eating his pasta. "And no. All the vampires are of the same breed. I'm one of the living, a vampire who can stand in the sunlight and drinks animal blood to live. The undead, on the other hand, are basically the vampires that your book is talking about. They're dead. When a living vampire kills by draining the blood out of another supernatural, they die and are cursed to live in t

"It's highly likely we'll freeze to death in this weather if our car breaks down." The new year came three months after the zombie outbreak. The snow hadn't stopped over the past month, and the frostiness had slowed the rotting of the zombies' corpses. The zombies themselves had also slowed. We didn't have much food left but still decided to have a hearty meal on New Year's Eve. We made steak and fried chicken, even popping open our last bottle of wine to celebrate. "Happy New Year!" We wanted to celebrate the new year and the fact that we were still alive.

Chapter 48 The Werewolf Realm While Erin reunited with Kate, Zaki, and Kira on the other side of the territory, Levi and Micha remained in their shared study—facing the Living Book. It floated above the table, its ancient golden letters swirling across its surface like flowing fire. "Dearest reader… let us begin," the book hummed, its voice echoing softly through the room. Levi and Micha sat down opposite each other, bracing themselves. Every session with the Living Book revealed something darker than the last.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN She wondered where he lived. She bet it was a disgusting hole underneath a rock. A dirt cave he decorated in children’s bones and chicken legs, like Baba Yaga. He led her to a motel. Not cheap. Not nice. Just a thing. A place. An anonymous hidey hole squirreled away in an odd corner of the city. “This is where you live?” she asked, trying to keep her nose from crinkling. “No,” he said simply.

A husband, a wife and their only son. Colours, black and white. It was all black and white. Black and white meant death. So only two things held colour. Only two living things in the painting. Himself, and the fire. Ashleigh left Damien to himself for a few minutes. She knew the healing was not up to her but up to him. She was looking at some of the other awareness posters and some paintings around. After a while Damien approached her. "Ready to try again?" she asked him. "Yeah."

One day she will be the death of me. I climbed higher and checked the area. There was no undead close by or any other travelers. I can’t say if that was good or bad. I sniffed again and now I could tell where the others are. They were busy……….. I cocked my head to the side. Are they having sex? I gagged this was disgusting. Not because they were gay, which I doubt, but because they looked ugly and deformed. Cannibalism can do that to you. Your body won’t be healthy feeding on human flesh, especially one full of diseases and goddess knows what else.

“Can you believe she thought she’d bring peace and happiness to the country by overthrowing it with an army of zombies. Did she think she’d be able to control them after they’d eaten enough brains to start thinking for themselves? Such delusion.” “They do what?” Max gasped. “They eat the brains of humans and, after a while, something happens in them that allows them to think for themselves,” Megan explained. “How many of these creatures are walking around now?” I asked. “I’m sure I couldn’t say,” Megan replied. “I imagine it would depend on how many of the walking dead the good lawman has managed to retrieve and send to his grave, permanently.” “Not enough,” Max mused. “A handful at best.

The rooms sme‌lled faintly of‍ wo⁠od polish and leather, a‌ mix of old money and something w⁠ilder un⁠derneath, a faint tan⁠g, almost metallic, that I couldn’t place‌. Finn led me to my room, war‌ni‌ng about showe⁠rs, bathroom schedules, and the dangers of Dorm 3. “Most schola⁠rship students neve‌r make i‌t here,” he muttered. “The‌y’r‍e eas‌ie‌r to m‍an‍age in the ba‌ck dorms. D⁠orm 3? L⁠eg⁠acy⁠ territory, old familie‌s and sons of shifters, sons of wolves t‍hings humans don’t expect‍. Yo⁠u’l⁠l see.” The warning hit ha‍rder t⁠han any lecture.‌ Shif‌ters? Wolves?

Something Maya has no useful word for. The word would have to describe a man aiming twelve bodies the way she would aim one rifle, and English, having spent centuries finding twelve ways to describe uncomfortable chairs, apparently never prepared for this. Marcus turns the pack. Points it. The dead come over the west fence and meet a thing already there to meet them. One animal with thirty heads.

she asked in wonder. “I am afraid and sorry my daughter but…they do exist and very much alive. Vampires are no myths; they do exist and live amongst us. ‘Vivienda de Vampiros’ is a Spanish name meaning vampires’ dwelling. That is how and why, Kibich city is also known as the Blood city. We have been hunting and killing them for generations. That is what your father and I did and kept from you two.” “Does this mean that, my father was killed by a vampire?” she queried looking surprised and confused.