White Shadow Nasty Stories Novels & Stories

She napped herself out of her fantasy She took off her shoes and snuck quietly into the living room careful not to bang the door, But when she turned around and her eyes met with three other pairs, two of them shinning with anticipation while the other scowled with spurn, her plan of making a quiet entrance went up in smoke. “Hello everyone,” Amanda grimaced “It smells like a walk of shame in here,” Barack sniffed the air dramatically, while Angela and Mercy broke into peals of laughter. “Tit tat,” Barack clucked his tongue contemptuously “I knew you had a concealed schema, I revoke your sainthood,” he chimed in as he took the flip flops from her.

This was something else, and she was unsure of what it was, even though it came with the air of dread. The whooshing stopped as did the grunting of men. The nightmare. She tried to recall the images, but all she could see were flashes. No. She had to remember. Something in there had... Yes, now she saw it. There had been a house, the house of silence it looked like, then it was gone and there were five shadowed feminine figures with different colours of hair. At their feet lay bones, but they were looking for more. They had said something, no, whispered something, and it was to find someone or a group of people, she wasn't sure which. But there had been a warning, one whispered to her.

That was when I noticed the low blue glow coming from the living room. The television was off. The light was coming from a laptop open on the coffee table. I should have turned around and gone back upstairs. Instead I walked closer. Daniel was on the couch in just a pair of dark shorts. The laptop screen faced him. I couldn’t see the video clearly from the doorway, but I could hear it—soft, wet sounds and a woman’s low moaning. His right hand was inside his shorts, moving in a slow, tight rhythm. His head was tipped back against the cushion, eyes half-closed, jaw tight.

They gathered the children of the village around a crackling bonfire and began to tell a story that sent shivers down everyone's spines. "Children," began Oliver's father in a hushed voice, "gather 'round and listen closely to the tale of 'The Whispering Shadows'." A time long ago, the villagers spoke of a hidden corner of the forest where ancient, twisted trees grew close together, creating a sinister canopy that blocked out the sunlight. Legend had it that this place was home to creatures known as the Whispering Shadows. These shadows were said to be spirits of misbehaved children who had ventured too far into the forest, never to return.

He would prepare birthday surprises for me and give me gifts for every holiday, making me happy like any good husband would. Once, I was badly injured during a border hunting mission. That day, our patrol team was ambushed by an outside pack, and a powerful foreign werewolf lunged at me. I didn't react in time, and his claws slashed across my abdomen. The ground was stained with my blood. I thought I was going to die, but then a furious roar split the night sky. Andrew transformed into a massive silver-gray wolf, and his blood-red eyes locked on the enemy. His fangs tore into the opponent's throat, crushing his bones with savage brutality.

I turned back again and tried to shake off the feeling, but it only grew stronger with each step I took. Suddenly, I heard a blood-curdling scream right in front of me. I froze, unable to move or breathe as a ghastly shadowy apparition materialized before me. It had a pale, almost translucent body that seemed to flicker in and out of existence but it was dark , like the shade of coal. I was rubbed my eyes hard to determine if it was real or I was imagining. But the apparition let out another ear-piercing scream before disappearing into thin air, almost hitting me on my forehead as I fell back on the ground , screaming.

a deep baritone voice said from the shadows. I jumped, nearly hitting the wall. A guy was leaning against the bricks near some old crates. He looked like he’d stepped out of a movie—pale skin, sharp features, with a cloak that dramatically billowed in the breeze. He stepped forward into the dim light and I froze. His features were perfect, almost etched from marble. Long, dark wavy hair cascaded down his back, framing a sharp jawline and blood-red lips. But his eyes were what got me. They were dead. Just pitch-dark voids that didn't reflect a single spark of the neon lights from the street. I was freaked out, but I couldn't look away. My skin prickled with a weird kind of intrigue.

"Keep going. Don't stop now." The woman pulled back just an inch, her breath fanning hot across my swollen lips as she watched my completely nude body with dark, dilated eyes. "You heard him," she whispered, her voice a low, teasing hum against my mouth. "Take his dick back into that pretty mouth while he works your cunt."

And then, silence. A scream shattered the dusk. Not Ridge. Not Luna. Something inhuman. They came from the trees—figures cloaked in rot and shadows, twisted armor etched with claws and blood-writ glyphs. Hollow pack. Their stench struck first—metal turned sour, flesh long spoiled. Trisha moved before command was called. Her axe unslung in one motion, she veered left into the shadows where screams grew sharper. Serin roared, “West line! Fall to the crest!” even as Ridge archers loosed arrows overhead.

“That would be my father. I’ve not done any renovations to the place. I hope to do that soon, but with the sorcery case right now…you do understand that it demands my undivided attention.” “I can understand,” he said, returning to the couch he was sitting on. “This wickedness needs to be dealt with before it does more harm than good. The more time goes, the more they establish their hold over the dark. I heard they work with shadows now.” I groaned. “That’s has been my suspicion recently, but I don’t have evidence. And the more I close in on them, the more complicated it becomes.” “You don’t have to think twice about it,” Zack leaned forward. “Shadows are products of sorcery. They are made f