Withered Nightmare Puppet Novels & Stories

It had thickened into something alive now, curling and snapping like it had teeth. Figures moved in the fog, not wolves. Not quite anything. My stomach churned as I watched one step into the light. It was… wrong. Twisted beyond recognition, its body hunched and broken, its eyes black pits of nothing. Delilah stepped to my other side. “She’s turned them into nightmares,” she said under her breath. “This… this is what she wanted me to become. A nightmare, someone's fear. This is what she's turning them into.”

After the party, she would storm to her room, ripping all the wrappers, except the day after that birthday, each of them tearing apart, broken, and missing. But, that night she was having a nightmare, endless wood and many people chasing for her, the words weren't easy for a kid her age to understand. They groans, and they scream as if they were suffering and want her to feel them too. The clawing behind her forced her to slow down. They all stink like she was in a sea of dead people, they were wounded badly, some even lost their heads, lost their arms, and some were just chest and belly parts jumping around, hands dragging the limp closer to her. The clawing getting harder and harder, and h

The body slumped badly in the middle of the room, had several wounds. The face was unrecognizable, reduced to a bruised and swollen mask. A trickle of blood dripped solitary from the half-open mouth onto the cold floor. There was nothing to suggest that this was a person; it looked more like a lifeless puppet. A few eerie shadows circled, like rabid dogs, around the helpless, unconscious figure. "Get some water and put some ice in it. I want to have some more fun with him," ordered a snickering voice.

Modern, furnished and beautiful and looking new everyday although the house was five years old already. Juana's coffee was transparent, lot of water,lot of sugar, no milk. So she could see her face while sipping at it. Her big blue eyes were a bit undefined, her expression showed fear with a mixture of helplessness and unusual calm. Then the dream came again. Avocado. Garden. Branch. Third branch. Corpse dripping with blood. Loose. Screaming. Empty House. Dream. "Oh my goodness" she sighed, dropping her half empty mug. She tried to make meaning out of it, but it was a little creepy..

A high-pitched, gut-wrenching screech pierced my ears. Standing just inside the door to his hoarder's lair, the Erelim was shrieking, as his many eyes surveyed the chaos of the Vaults. He looked bigger than he had before. Gone was the frail-looking old man, now his bulk filled the doorway in which he stood, his head touching the top of the frame, as if he'd just consumed the Eat Me cake from Alice's crazy world. Glaring at Ethan, he opened his mouth wide and screamed, and on his tongue, another eye appeared, a bloodshot eyeball protruding from the saliva-drenched pink flesh.

That is the strangest thing I have ever thought in my life. That familiar itch starts to spread across my neck, down my chest to my stomach. It itches so bad, I pull up my shirt and when I do, I scream out into the empty dark room that is lit only by the moonlight and a single nightlight over by the entrance. Daring to look down again, I see that where I had just scratched, is a gaping wound and there is a maggot crawling out of it. I hear a noise from behind me and when I turn on my heels, I watch as the same man from before stands about a foot taller than I am and is staring right into my eyes. He opens his mouth and states, “You have finally awakened. Good.”

Sleep pulled us gently under. That night, a nightmare clawed into my dreams. I saw Xareth, his eyes black, his voice laced with venom. He stood before me, and I felt my limbs move not by my will but his, like I was a puppet carved in bone. Blood was dripping down my legs.My baby gone. I woke with a gasp, heart hammering in my chest. I threw off the covers, reaching down, frantically checking. No blood, only me shaking. Zevarion stirred beside me, voice thick with sleep. “Vireya?”

She was never going to surrender to him; he bought her, but he couldn't buy her life. She was going to make sure she made his life a living nightmare. She was going to make him regret ever buying her and let her go. Yes, he was going to release her himself when he got tired of her. She grinned; he didn't know what he bought. He had just purchased a nightmare, and that nightmare was hers.

The gathering felt wrong, a perversion of nature, their stillness a sign of deeper control. No independent thoughts stirred in them; they'd long ago shed every bit of humanity and sanity, reduced to simple puppets jerked by unseen hands. Some had been dragged back from death's grip, revived through twisted magic into hollow shells that mimicked life but held no spark. Others suffered a crueler fate—their souls torn from living bodies, pain etched forever in their features, then stuffed with that same dark magic to make them obedient tools. No remnants of who they'd been remained—no echoes of laughter, love, or loyalty. One puppet, soul-stripped and magic-filled, stood with blank obedience, i

Nightmares crawl up through the cracks, dozens of them, hundreds, dragging themselves into the light like puppets yanked forward by invisible strings. They don’t rush. They inch forward little by little. Their limbs jerk unnaturally. Heads loll at impossible angles. Mouths open and close soundlessly, as if screaming behind glass. Threads of shadow stretch upward from their backs, vanishing into the air above us. She is controlling them with an invisible hand. All of this is part of her design. Nyxara smiles again, this time it is sharp and cruel. “Kill them,” she whispers. The nightmares surge forward. Adrenaline slams through me. I step in front of Dax instinctively, power roaring to li