Worm Stories Novels & Stories

He was grossly outnumbered and the odds were in the favor of Nikjin and his army. She wondered what had become of her father; of Monah, the head warrior, of Seisa, and the other servants. How many werewolves have already lost their lives in this cursed place? How many more would have to die before this nightmare was over? Tears ran down her muzzle from her closed eyes. A silly thought occurred to her that nearly made her giggle out loud. If she’d known that she was coming to an era of civil war, she should have probably gone to bed with the dream stone and her father’s hunting rifle that was stashed in their attic back in Fairbanks. That would have surely tipped this fight in the werewolves'

Then I turned to Miranda, changing the conversation ‘Miranda, there is something Athan told me while we were on the balcony. He spoke about a kidnapping ring known as the black hood which likes to take purebloods. Do you know anything about them? ‘That’s scary. People do this.’ Jissa retorted. ‘It is. Really. I feel so scared for our kind. When have we become so debased to fight and kill one of our kind? My elder used to tell me stories about our debacles with the vampires and sometimes witches. I have never heard about in-fighting amongst werewolves. It is sad.’

“What do they demand this year, Alpha? More livestock? More coins? More land?” The Alpha paused. His eyes swept slowly over the gathered wolves. “A werewolf.” The hall erupted in chaos. Gasps. Shouts. Outrage. “They want one of us now?” a woman cried. “Have they lost their minds?” “We give them cows and gold and they still aren’t satisfied?” another voice shouted. “This is madness!” “They already treat their own like animals in heat. What will they do to one of ours?” The noise grew deafening until Alpha Marcus raised both hands high. Silence fell, but it was tense and angry.

I woke up in the middle of the night. The room was pitch black except for the faint blue glow of the flame lamp on the wall. Lily had fallen asleep, slumped against the edge of my bed. Her lashes were still wet with tears, her face tired but unyielding. I stayed perfectly still, careful not to wake her, but my thoughts kept spinning. Everything that had happened lately played over and over in my mind. Clearly, werewolves were way too tough, so killing them was next to impossible. If I wanted to get back to the human world, ordinary suicide methods wouldn't cut it.

The whispers were more than just rumors; they were the harbingers of a brewing storm. The elders, usually stoic and reserved, were more readily sharing their stories – grim tales of ancient feuds, territorial disputes that had stretched across generations, betrayals that had shattered alliances and left scars that still ran deep within the werewolf community. These weren’t mere anecdotes; they were cautionary tales, stark reminders of the fragility of peace and the ever-present threat of conflict. Lyra learned of the fractured history of the werewolf world, a tapestry woven with threads of both cooperation and bitter rivalry, a constant struggle for dominance and survival.

Leslie groaned awake as Tara and Zak dragged a table across the shattered window and braced it with chairs. “Tom? You can’t be out of bed,” Leslie said, pushing up on her elbows. “Jakey, what’s happening? What are those animals?” “Werewolves,” Jake said, eyes not leaving the hall. “They’re real.” Tara peeled a slat of the front blinds. “They’re everywhere,” she whispered. “Sniffing. Hunting.” Zak joined her, jaw tight. “Can we make the car?” She checked—froze. “They’re ripping the W.R.X. to pieces.”

She took a small container from her bed and placed it on the table. After a while, a fat worm began to crawl out of the container. Lena took out a dagger and cut her finger, allowing blood to drip down on the worm. The worm was white. However, the worm quickly turned red from the blood. … After the sky turned dark, the moonlight shone down on the hut. It looked beautiful and serene. Although the leaves blocked the moonlight, the moonlight still lit up the hut. No one made a sound. Only the sound of the wind rustling and some frogs ribbiting could be heard.

Those crocodiles and cunning monkeys. “The Great War between these two races lasted for centuries. Both sides have shed blood but the knot of hate between them has remained unbreakable.” See. Grandma was good at sewing her stories. I wouldn’t wonder why I had the gift of writing. Hehehe. As if I am a biological blood relative of hers. “Dragons are powerful, and they’re protected by magic. A fully-grown dragon can easily eliminate a dozen werewolves.” Grandma showed me some punching and kicking stunts. Haha. He’s a natural storyteller.

Surely they expected me to know something. “My Grandma lived in the forest for many years, she spoke to us about the wolves there. Told us many bedtime tales of werewolves and suchlike, so yes, I have heard of the many things linked to wolves and their packs…” I admitted, and a look of understanding passed over Rocco’s face, mixed with a slight look of disappointment. A disappointment I could not place. Why would he be disappointed in my Grandmother's bedtimes tales? “Tales of werewolves you say?” he asked quietly.

There was a loud ' SCREE' followed by an ugly squelching sound and the tongue reappeared . It was just that it had a huge drooperworm in his mouth ( * dooperworm is an imaginative worn with white slimy body like that of an earthworm) . The drooperworm were really hard to found in the capital , not only did they liked dark , dingy places , they were hard to keep with their body that resembled the size of a child miniature toy car .