Withered Nightmare Puppet Novels & Stories

Make him know what it feels like to be bitter, and when she's done, he's going to wish he was never born. His name is Rory John Gate and she's going to be his nightmare." She finishes speaking and finally looks over at the little girl and she is already asleep and she gets up and lays a soft kiss on her head and cover her up with the bedsheets, before walking out of the room. Authors message: Hello and welcome to the sequel of Little Nerdy Nightmare I hope you really like the beginning, if you did, leave a review. Love you guys

His eyes were not wild with hunger; they were glazed over, completely white, as if his soul had been scooped out. "They are not rogues," I whispered, horror rising in my throat. "They are vessels," the Ancient whispered back. "Failed experiments. Morvanna did not send an army of soldiers. She sent a pack of puppets." I watched as the creature slashed at my father. My father parried the blow easily, his sword cutting deep into the attacker’s chest. A normal wolf would have howled in pain. A normal wolf would have fallen or retreated. The puppet did not make a sound. It did not even flinch. It simply raised its weapon again, the purple veins on its neck bulging as if something else was pumping

She clawed at the sheets, her eyes wide and fixed on the ceiling. "They... they found the frequency," she whispered, her voice layered with the static of a thousand screaming souls. "The Harvesters. They aren't breaking the door, Killian. They're walking through the light." A shadow detached itself from the corner of the room. It wasn't a wolf, and it wasn't a man. It was a jagged, multi-limbed nightmare of smoke and obsidian claws, its "face" a swirling vortex of violet energy. It moved with a sickening, stuttering grace, appearing three feet closer with every blink of the eye.

He raised his trembling, corrupted hands, curling his fingers like a puppeteer manipulating invisible strings. The corpses of Vorn and his lieutenants twitched violently. With a series of loud, sickening bone-cracks, their shattered spines snapped straight. Their heads rolled back, their vacant, clouded eyes burning with the same hollow, toxic violet fire that consumed Caleb’s gaze. They stood before him—no longer mutinous mercenaries demanding gold, but mindless, unfeeling flesh-thralls bound directly to his will.

Looks like they haven't gotten their numbers back. Finally looking straight ahead, my eyes landed on a familiar, tall, lean man, with a tattoo of the Calaveros symbol on his neck; Wade. His bloodshot eyes watched my every step, as he grinned maliciously. Wade was definitely looking much worse, than the last time I saw him. Oh! I could still see burn marks on his face. I could tell from how he stood, that he was trying so hard to appear intimidating, to exude dominance and make me cower. It was quite laughable.

I arched up my eyebrows at his idea of the game and wondered that whether this all was actually happening or everything was just a beautiful dream. "Mayra I've learned from you that words has enormous power and sometimes few sweet words and a beautiful smile like you can change a nightmare like me. So let's share our stories which were locked in our mind from so long." He suggested but I noticed the sad tone in his voice when he called himself as the nightmare. I held his palm little tightly and tapped my finger softly over it. He sighed deeply.

I knelt before the most renowned witch, Jery, and begged her to erase every memory from my mind. She stared at me, her emerald, green eyes reflecting my hollow image: a gaunt face, lifeless eyes, chapped lips—nothing like the cherished Luna once treasured by the leader of the Bring Pack. I looked more like a Rogue cast out by her kind. “Why have you come to me?” I glanced at the mirror beside me and let out a bitter, hopeless smile. “I want to forget someone. But the Pack doctor… they won’t help me. They all obey him.”

As all the eerie puppets let out piercing screams at the same time, I knew I had chosen correctly. That puppet… was his main soul. The soul nail did far more damage to him than I had expected. One by one, the split-soul puppets vanished, until only Derrick remained, his form so faint it looked like he might disappear at any moment. Silvia tried to use her Hypnotic Eyes on me again, so I simply shut my eyes. However, I had no weapon that could deal with her. I was forced back again and again.

“Stop struggling. You're lucky to die in my hands.” Greg smiled and untied one of the men. He was far stronger than the other guy and had no fear that he would escape. The student trembled in fear as he was untied, so scared that he could not speak. Greg was very disappointed at his cowardice. He could only make some relatively robotic puppets before this. Although the puppets would listen to him, they were too stiff. Now that he had found a way to make a humanoid puppet that truly belonged to him, he could not miss this good opportunity.

Something was definitely brewing there. Finally, we pulled into a gravel lot. I leaned forward, trying to see what this “spontaneous” adventure was. “Is that what I think it is?” I asked slowly, staring at the dilapidated structure ahead. Eli’s grin told me everything. “What the actual hell…” I whispered, my eyes locking on the chipped paint, broken windows, and vines crawling up the walls like nature was trying to warn us. A crooked sign above the doorway read: HOUSE OF SCREAMS – ENTER IF YOU DARE.