dark-fiction

The Captain, so close as he was, didn__ warrant their attention. Even a fly on a horse__ hindquarters gets a tail whip. And that is the thick of it. We are less than flies to these foul foes.

And I've learned to hit the brakes at these kinds of stop signs rather than t-boning a tanker truck filled with 200 proof mediocrity.

She was my black rose, a broken angel I could hug and drift away with into peaceful oblivion.

Most people assume I write at night because of the kind of books I write, but I can shut out the light with my mind.

Writing on dark themes is not as easy as one might think; you have to live the worst and the most terrifying nightmares, again and again, till they consume you entirely and become an inseparable part of you that you start dreading.

Nothing is whole, not for too damned long. The world is half night.

You killed me._ My voice was unsteady.He held me close again. __ brought you back.___lease tell me we only have to do that once.__e whispered against my ear, __ swear I won__ kill you again. Cross my heart and hope to die._ It was a bad joke

Don__ worry about paying me. Stay alive, child. You must save yourself. And, whatever you do, don__ forget who you are

My mama always said, You can always ask. The worst they can do is say no. But I don__ think Mama was thinking about revenge and murder when she dealt out that piece of homespun advice

I felt absolutely nothing, and that frightened me even more than the darkness of oblivion

Like the moon shining bright Up high with all its grace,I can only show you at night And hide half of my face.

Everyone has a monster inside

Hope had only revealed herself to him when he was immersed in darkness

The demon of revenge had already taken hold of his heart. The cancer of injustice had already eaten at his cheerful soul, leaving a skeleton of a carcass behind, one that could never feel compassion for humans__r anything else__gain.

I can see the cracks in society, in people, in this world and I'd rather die before slipping into one of them.

St John from the book of The Revelation __e also forced everyone, small and great, rich and poor, free and slave, to receive a mark on his right hand or on his forehead, so that no one could buy or sell unless he had the mark.

The surge of his ardour swept through him in climatic release, filling her womb with his final, mortal sowing.

Why do you want to touch me? I'm nothing. I'm no one.