Novelas de Serenity Warren

“The World of the Unknown. A book to die for.” My mother used to tell me stories of Vampires, Werewolves, Demons, the Orramoths, and the worst of them all, the Darklings. Most of the creatures she told me they blew out of proportion. She said writers did this to make a dollar or two, and some did it to scare the shit out of their kids and make them listen.&nb

“The Darklings?” A trail of burning tears, one by one, flow down my cheek. I try my best to whip them away. Each one keeps coming. Another and another. I didn’t want to cry, but there was a part of it that felt so damn familiar. It was pulling at every ounce of my soul. How could I push down the gut-wrenching feeling? It was impossible. Completely. Utterly. Impossible.

The darkness fades away. My eyes flutter open and adjust to where I am. Looking around, I discover I am in a horrific bathroom all alone. The walls are now moldy with grey bricks, and there are cobwebs on every corner and crevice. Leading to the slimy cement floors are rusted water stains and by the toilet. There is what I assume to be human feces smeared against the sides of an old wooden cabinet. Covering my mouth, I look away and hold back my vomit. I realize Raquel has sucked me into my worst nightmare."N-no, Raquel," I whisper in fear

"I'm not really hungry anymore.""Tell me more," I ask curiously."I have said enough for now." He slides his pants on and walks out in the hallway. His voice is stern and unwavering, " You need to eat."

With one hand, Raquel moves his shaft out of the way, and with the other, he cups his hands around his balls and moves them so I can see the tattoo. The moment I see it, I am drawn in by its power. “Wow, Raquel. It is beautiful…” I whisper more towards myself.The tattoo is of no ordinary design. The intricate details almost seem inhumanly made. Swirls of dusty-grey storm clouds surround a midnight-blue sword. They begin at the handles and spiral throughout the golden blade. Behind the sword lays black and blue tip wings. Each feather tip is like a tempestuous addiction. The closer I come, I want to touch it.Visions of the wings wrapping around me, never allowing me to escape, consume my thoughts. I look up at Raquel and shiver, not understanding how

"Oh! Uh! Look, Raquel, you said your name is?" I ramble nervously.“That is