The Woman In Black Novels & Stories

“But please…just consider it once.” Silence fell again. Complete silence. Even the wind had gone still. From the corner of my eye, I noticed figures beginning to gather in the distance now—witches standing between the houses, watching us carefully with unreadable expressions. Then suddenly— A sound flickered through the air. Soft. Almost like fire crackling. And a woman appeared before us out of nowhere. One second there was empty space. The next— She stood there dressed entirely in black, silver jewelry glinting against her dark skin, long matted hair falling over her shoulders as though the shadows themselves had shaped her into existence.

Almost tripped. I opened my eyes. A woman stood in the doorway. So pretty it hurt to look at her. Long dark hair in loose waves. Skin like cream. Red dress that hugged every curve. Lips painted deep wine. Eyes sharp but soft. She looked like an angel who decided to visit hell. She tilted her head. Looked around the room. At the chains. At the blood on the floor. At me strapped down. Then at the woman in black. The woman in black swallowed hard. Voice shook a little. “Oh… she’s a new girl. We were… suspecting her to be a spy or something. Because she is a terrible dancer.”

“You’re imagining things.” “Am I?” Neither of us spoke. Because deep down we both knew I wasn’t. The knock came again. This time it was urgent. Vivian and I exchanged glances. “Come in.” The door opened. A woman dressed entirely in black stepped inside. Her hair was neatly packed beneath a cap. A black face mask covered half her face. The moment I saw her expression, my stomach sank. Something was wrong. Very wrong. “Ma.” Vivian crossed her arms.

Some conversations require isolation. The woman is waiting in the center of the warehouse. She's smaller than Alessandra expected, and younger. Maybe thirty. Black jeans, dark jacket, a gun visible at her hip like a piece of jewelry or a promise. Her dark hair is pulled back, and her eyes -- when Alessandra gets close enough to see them -- are the color of storm clouds.

Well, I keep looking around until I see somebody in the crowd that makes chills run down my spine I see a woman sitting in the front section of the crowd. Her eyes are filled with intense hatred as she makes sure that her eyes lock mine. The hatred that she is admitting it so much that I can almost feel it on my skin physically. I don’t know what scares me the most, her aura all the way she is dressed. She is dressed in an all black attire. Her hair is black and tightly pulled to the back. Her eyes have very thick black eyeshadow on them. Her lips are black. In fact, how Make Up is black. How close is black. As she crosses her legs, I can see that her shoe is black. Happy skin even makes her

Because that wasn’t what we’d expected. Not even close. The woman looked directly at Isabella. Her eyes filled with sorrow. “She succeeded.” A cold feeling settled into my chest. Because somehow… that sounded much worse. The woman stood. Slowly. Carefully. Like every movement hurt. “The problem is what she succeeded in doing.” Lightning flashed outside. The entire council hall glowed silver. And for one brief second— every symbol on the woman’s robes lit up. Not gold. Not silver. Black. Dark as midnight.

I snap my head back to the dancefloor and squint my eyes again, focusing on the women. Okay, the lawyer is wearing red, the woman wearing the sparkly dress is Amalia, which means the woman in black is… Shit! That’s Eva?! “Judging by how much your eyes are bugging out right now, you didn’t recognize her,” Angelo says, laughing with Matteo joining him. Malakes. “Let me guess, never seen this side of Eva?” Matteo asks with a knowing smirk. “Uh, no. She’s always been, uhm, well, reserved and like, in mother/teacher mode.”

Ten thousand dollars was too much money to walk away from, especially when she had so many financial responsibilities. She took a breath and asked, “So, when exactly do we start?” Damien Damien smiled with satisfaction when Elena finally agreed to his arrangement. He knew the plan would work. He had deliberately stocked the buffet with seafood and red wine after learning how much she loved them. He had done his homework, and he was certain she would eventually let her guard down. He wanted her in his bed. Once he got what he wanted, he intended to discard her without a second thought. The truth was that Arabella Sinclair had already agreed to sign with Starlight Entertainment Group. She was

Their soft wails filled the sterile room as if the sound itself sought to cut through the mansion’s cold silence. But there would be no rescue, no salvation. Soon, a woman in a white lab coat, her nameplate showing, Dr. Ana Blackwood walked among the cribs, her eyes scanning the infants with a detached clinical focus. Her dark hair was pulled back tightly, her face pale and expressionless. She had been with the Black Order for decades now, her loyalty and her role in Project Regen the Elixir of Youth were pivotal. She was no stranger to death or suffering—it was merely a part of her work now.

"If no one answers, we’re breaking in.” Before I could tell him to shut up, footsteps sounded from inside. The door swung open, and I barely had a second to take in the woman before a shotgun was pointed straight at us. She was a Black woman, maybe in her early fifties, with sharp cheekbones and dark, piercing eyes. Her graying dreadlocks were pulled back, and she wore a deep red robe, but all that mattered right now was the weapon in her hands. "What the hell are you doing at my doorstep?" she demanded, voice hard as steel. "This gun holds silver bullets to kill all of you, and I will shoot if you don’t start talking."