Books like Twilight are not art. They are mass-produced crap that is meant to be consumed by the widest possible audience, for the largest possible profit.
Matthew licked the fright induced sweat from his victim’s temple then bit a quarter sized piece of flesh from her right cheek as she flayed wildly under him.
Maybe I’m stupid. Maybe I’m just as evil as he is by keeping my mouth shut. But he told me once that I was different. And I can’t help but hope that me being different is the one thing in this world t...
For a moment, I’m captivated. He’s seducing me with his eyes. A nervous flutter swims through my stomach. I can feel my heartbeat in my throat. Pounding. Constricting. I swallow hard.
You are so beautiful, I could eat you,” he said.And it was true. Her smile was as intoxicating as the wine.And he could eat her.
We see even the flames.
Forever. He carved the word into his soul. Kiera was his forever, deformity or no deformity.
My thoughts are quiet, but not calm. There is a terror on the edge of the silence, a terror fed by my burning flesh and the stench of death.
My werewolf ... my second skin ...When the moon is on the rise,I go naked into night.I am never dressed to kill.
I've never wanted a heart as much as I want yours.
The chandelier was wearing on its rubber support and the crack at the side of the ceiling hold was getting bigger. “One day that’s going to fall on us and spear you through the heart,” he said. I turn...
The diamonds glinted under the glare of the chandelier and they looked like a thousand spider eyes
These were the things we would never notice were missing.
I cannot breathe, or see, nor swim,My darkness is composed of him.
I'm not giving up my life. My life began when I met you.
Is it possible for one to enter sleep and wander while never waking? And if so, for how long can one survive this way?
Pretty doll," rasped the dark haired vampire as he went about behind her, and she could feel his ravenous hunger practically radiating off him.
Of all the problems and complications in my life, I had not expected love to be one of them.
Am I Dead?"Had she fallen to her doom and this was all an elaborate fantasy? Was this the place between life and death? Her eyes welled up with tears and she ran towards the man that wasn't there, wan...
For there has never been a story nearly as tragic as the one of Frankenstein, except for that of Johnny Heart and his Francesca Valentine.
