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This is not just another Vampire Story. It's the amazing tale of a powerful being bent on revenge. Discover how a common man became The Dark Master and move with him through the centuries until he winds up in New York City. It's there that we meet the fascinating characters that interact with him over one hundred years. It's there that he reaches into the heart of the New York City Mob and pulls out a man in need of his unique powers. Stay off the streets of NYC at night… He's hungry!
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True TALES of people who experienced a parallel Earth event.
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The belief in life after death is a common belief among most of the world’s civilizations and that may have been the birth of the idea of ghosts and spirits. The Vampire persona has evolved from many true and untrue facts, legends and myths. At various times vampires, real and imagined, have been considered fiends, supernatural beings, shape-shifters, mentally disturbed deviants, satanic servants and fetish followers...
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WARNING: Sexual Situations
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What they will not tell you about marriage and relationships
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WARNING: Sexual Situations
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This is a true story about Sex Workersl.I know because I witnessed most of what you will read about. The rest I gleaned from long conversations with some of the people involved… WARNING: SOME EXPLICIT DESCRIPTIONS
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Kailey Fields offers readers fresh and very human fiction stories that are unique, yet relatable.
The seeds of her self-doubt had been sown in her early years. She'd been relentlessly bullied in school for being different, for her passion for gaming, which had been dismissed as a “boy thing.” That hurt had left deep scars. Creating Lemonade had been a shield, a way to deflect the negativity she faced in the real world. It was a safe space where she could be celebrated for her skills, her wit, and her personality, instead of facing ridicule.
The air hung heavy with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. Each step crunched on the forest floor, a sound amplified in the suffocating silence of the Blackwood Forest. My breath hitched in my throat, a thin plume of white mist disappearing into the inky blackness. The only light came from my lantern, a feeble spark against the overwhelming darkness that pressed in from all sides, swallowing the forest in its shadowy embrace. Above, the branches of ancient trees twisted like skeletal fingers, their gnarled silhouettes scratching at the moonless sky.
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The darkness claimed me, swallowing me whole. But in death, a twisted metamorphosis occurred. The venom of betrayal, the searing agony of death, transformed into a cold, unrelenting fire. I became a specter, an instrument of vengeance. The chilling weight of my decomposing body became a burden that fueled my relentless pursuit.
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Grandma Elara's tales filled the quiet evenings at her house. The aroma of woodsmoke and simmering herbs hung heavy in the air, mingling with the scent of old books and the comforting warmth of her presence. Her cozy old house seemed to hum with a gentle energy, a place where ancient stories and timeless secrets intertwined. The antique furniture, each piece telling a story of its own, seemed to come alive as she spun her tales, the very atmosphere of the house adding to the mystique of the Ceasg and its watery realm.
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Cerelia, a museum employee with a penchant for the obscure and a healthy dose of skepticism tempered by an insatiable curiosity, had been cleaning the newly acquired collection of ancient artifacts. She was meticulous, and painstaking in her work, a sharp contrast to the hurried pace of the city outside the museum walls. She liked the quiet solitude of the museum, a world apart from the noisy urban jungle. She found solace in the relics of the past, each object whispering a story of bygone eras.
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Aislinn felt it too, a growing sense of unease, not just from the tales of a missing Prince, but from the visions teased by the necklace. The shadowed figure, the one with piercing eyes and a cruel smile,haunted her dreams and even invaded her waking moments. He was connected to the necklace, a palpable sense of threat radiating from the glowing pendant. The prince's fate, she now realized, was entwined with her own. And somewhere, a darkness waited, a darkness that the necklace seemed both to warn her about and guide her towards. The quiet village of Oakhaven, with its familiar rhythms and predictable patterns, could no longer contain her.

The seeds of her self-doubt had been sown in her early years. She'd been relentlessly bullied in school for being different, for her passion for gaming, which had been dismissed as a “boy thing.” That hurt had left deep scars. Creating Lemonade had been a shield, a way to deflect the negativity she faced in the real world. It was a safe space where she could be celebrated for her skills, her wit, and her personality, instead of facing ridicule.
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She traced the lines on her palm, searching for a familiar scar, a birthmark, anything to tether herself to a stable identity. Nothing. Even her own body felt slightly different, as if her reflection in the warped mirror across the room was an imposter. The subtle variations – the way her hair fell, a new freckle on her cheek, the faintest shift in her eyes – were enough to unsettle her further. It was as if she was perpetually teetering on the edge of a precipice, the ground constantly shifting beneath her feet.
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