Darkness Art Novels & Stories

And Darkness, he was back to where had stood earlier, his gaze elsewhere yet she could see his shadows red eye looking at her, shadows weren't meant to have eyes, they weren't meant to be controlled by a human being then how? But Darkness wasn't a human, he was a creation from the depths of hell, the same hell he was pushing her towards. Her eyes trailed down to his bare chest, she had never seen him without his coat or suit before. He was built, huge, way huger than she had thought, her hand traced her collarbone, expecting to hold a chain, only to be met with cold air.

His tone suggested that Adrian’s efforts were laughable, and he was determined to make Adrian pay for opposing him. Adrian countered, “Even with three puppets, it doesn’t guarantee your victory.” The puppets roared, their skin bursting and blood flowing, causing shock among the crowd. “That's disgusting!” “What kind of secret art is this?” An elderly man in green robes spoke up, “This is an ancient dark art that harnesses the formidable force of hell using one's own power. It can make the user’s strength even more terrifying. I didn’t expect Oscar to master such a technique. He’s using the puppets’ flesh and blood to avoid the recoil.”

I once thought I was the only one who suffered a bitter life, but whenever I see him, he is way more gloomy and dull than I am. He's shattered and ruined, and here I am doing my best to give him relief. His presence scares me the first time I saw him, but I figured out that there is nothing to be afraid of. Darkness fears the light, and I have that lamp within me. At least I still have that little light inside me. Jesus who lives within me is greater than he who lives in the world. I do believe that I can pull him out from that deep darkness. The beast who lives inside his head wants to play, and I must say do not play with him. Do not play with Archer.

I sigh. He gives me a wide smile, one that makes my heart beat faster. "Whoever said darkness is evil did not have the depth of mind to cross the line and go beyond his own limitations. Darkness is much more than a behavioral tendency, it is a world trapped inside a universe itself; where humanity and any other race chooses to hide its most decadent thoughts, needs, and desires... Darkness is only a different way of experiencing things, it is a new veil that can be used to wake up other senses... It is in you, in me, in all of us..."

I sang along after her: That fate which condemns me To wallow in blood Has also denied me The joys of the flesh This face the infection Which poisons our love This face, which earned A mother's fear and loathing A mask, my first Unfeeling scrap of clothing Pity comes too late Turn around and face your fate An eternity of this Before your eyes Daphnie took a breath and sang: This haunted face Holds no horror for me now It's in your soul That the true distortion lies Then the drama began as Patrick Wilson interrupted the moment between Emmy Rossum and Gerard Butler. Daphnie just shook her head as Patrick Wilson appeared, and I sang along with Gerard Butler Sir, This is indeed an imperalel deli

His entire form convulsed, cracks of golden light bursting through his darkness. He screamed in a raw, terrifying sound that rippled across realms. “You cannot destroy me!” he shrieked. “Darkness is eternal! I have built an empire for myself and, a realm. This is my world, not yours!" The Moon Goddess stepped forward, each stride shaking the ground. “Darkness may be eternal, but you are not.” And with a whisper: “Be undone.” The moonlight flared, exploding outward. It tore through the darkness, shredded the shadows,

They’re a live feed of our dysfunction. Another blooms on the adjacent wall. The Betrayer and the Betrayed. Arthur is a towering figure of shadow and arrogant pride, holding a dagger dripping not with blood, but with my null-energy. I am at his feet, a figure of crumbling stone, my face a mask of shattered trust. Then another. And another. A gallery of our worst selves. Our arguments rendered in screaming crimsons and sickly greens. Our silences in vast, empty stretches of gray. The entity feasts, the air growing thicker, sweeter, more suffocating with each unveiled insecurity.

Ina had been born. The club lived. A universe of light and darkness, where sin ran rampant, and secrets were exchanged under bass beats. Music thudded off walls like a pulse, neon illuminating a dangerous sheen on bodies in motion to the rhythm of the night. Ina came, the heel of her shoe clicking against marble, and eyes following involuntarily without so much as a thought. Power. Freedom. Danger. She breathed it all. Tonight, she was not Lily. Tonight, she was better. She was unbeatable.

Good luck Dalton. I've seen darkness before, the kind that makes our street like an old fashioned photograph, everything a shade of grey. This isn't like that. This is the darkness that robs you of your best sense and replaces it with a paralysing fear. In this darkness I sit, muscles cramped and unable to move. I only know my eyes are still there because I can feel myself blink, still instinctively moisturizing the organs I have no current use for. I can't hear anything either. I guess that should bring my heart rate down below the level of “rabbit in a snare” but it doesn't. By my genes I am a predator, I have the front facing eyes and brain enough to hunt, but I feel like prey in this utt