Tales of Darkness: by Nick Venom (thriller books to read .txt) 📕

A burly man stumbled into view of a mansion. The man lurched forward, driven by fumes. He approached the mansion, holding a large blood-stained knife with one hand and clutching at a shoulder wound with the other. 

“I-I can’t,” he muttered to no one in particular. “P-Please stop.”

The man continued forward, getting closer to the mansion. As he did, he stared at the building with a terrified expression. “N-No… P-Please… no more.” He cried out. He attempted to fight back against the invisible force that pushed him forward, but he was losing. “No, p-please no more. No more.”

The man tried to shake the knife off him, but it was glued to his hand. He opened his palm, trying to release his grip on the weapon but to no avail. Mysteriously, the knife remained on his palm, though none of his fingers were wrapped around it. 

“P-Please, let me go.” He cried out. “I can’t do this anymore.” However, whoever or whatever he was speaking to refused to release him. It kept him in its cold unforgiving hands. 

The man reached the mansion, inching closer to one of its outside walls, the walls that were the main defense between the people inside and outside. The outside wall was a unique color that didn’t exactly spark creativity, being a gloomy shade of purple. 

“I-I-” He started before something shut him up. His voice was temporarily lost, though he still attempted to speak. His words came out as muffled hums. 

The man lightly pressed on the wall with his empty palm before turning that innocent palm into a vicious fist. He pulled the fist back before launching it at the wall. The fist made contact with the wall, cracking a small hole into the otherwise solid wall.

The man peered into the hole with an expression of uncertainty. His eyes stared intensely as his lip quivered. Both expressions were seen by a teenager in the kitchen - the room being connected to the outside wall that he punched through.

“W-What?” The teen questioned, staggering. “I d-didn’t take any drugs did I? Man, I must’ve b-been spiked.” The teen remarked, looking away from the man and towards the glass of alcohol in front of him. “W-Well…” He burped suddenly. “It’s not l-like I’ll waste any.”

The teen continued to drink in front of the man, never taking him seriously. The man’s stare lingered on the teen before he pulled back his fist and broke more sections of the wall. After a few punches, a hole large enough for the man to squeeze through appeared. The man, dressed in a bright orange jumpsuit, approached the teen who, by now, was more than drunk. He rested his head on the table.

The man raised the large knife into the air, hesitating for a few moments before something forced his hand… to bring down the knife. The man pierced the teen’s skull with ease, going out through the other end; the space in between his eyes. 

The teen’s body jerked and shifted unnaturally until it began to rest. The body slowed down until it was nothing more than a Boston blood donut. 

The man slowly raised the knife out of the teen’s skull. He retrieved his knife with his right hand while using the other to turn the teen around. With the teen’s chest facing the man, he quickly stabbed the teen’s chest where his heart was. However, he didn’t retrieve his weapon instantly, instead, digging around the teen’s heart, using careful pierces to extract the heart. The man then, using the hand with the knife glued to it, grabbed a bag that was stapled to his waist through a cotton strap. He zipped the bag open and threw the heart into it. He then zipped it close before turning towards one of the doors in the kitchen, this one leading into the living room. 

The living room was desolate, filled with half-finished drinks, a mess of snacks littering the floor, and balloons strung up on the ceiling. The man took several long strides, looking around his surroundings for prey. He couldn’t find any in the room, deciding to move towards the stairs that led him to the second floor where several doors waited for him. The doors were lined up in a room, separated by large gaps. Each one held, at least, one person inside. 

The man approached the closest door. He stood in front of it, staring at it blankly. He pulled his fist, prepare to crack another hole but stopped himself before releasing the strike. “N-No,” escaped his mouth before his lips tightened and he resumed. The fist connected with the door, punching a large diamond-shaped hole with jagged teeth. 

“Hey!” Shouted the teenager inside the room. The teenager, who was dressed in pajamas, shot up to his feet. His drowsiness left him as he spun around to face the door. He noticed the hole immediately. “Who’s that? You’re paying to fix that!” He exclaimed, alerting the nearby people in the neighboring rooms. They began approaching their doors as the man remained in place. He waited until the doors were opened and the people flooded the hallway, most of them staring at the man with wide eyes while others turned around and sprinted away, to act.

“P-Please,” The man muttered before his eyes glazed. He raised the knife and turned to the closest person, sprinting towards them and colliding with them. They both crashed to the ground, but the man recovered faster than the teen he knocked into. The blond-haired teen stared up at the man as he raised the knife high into the air and quickly brought it down. He stabbed at the teen’s head, but it didn’t pierce his skull, only the flesh. 

“HELP!” The teen screeched as the man brought the knife down repeatedly on him. The teen’s friends and acquaintances watched as he was being killed, most freezing in spots, some running off, while a minority ran to assist him. 

“Get off him!” One man shouted, being one of the oldest of the people in the house, as he threw a punch at the man. The man didn’t look away from the teen that he was stabbing and wasn’t fazed by the punch that connected with his forehead. He continued to bring the knife down, even when some of the people attempted to rip the knife out of his grip. He didn’t relent on his mission, brutally stabbing the teen’s head until his skull poked out of one of the several tens of holes on his forehead. With the skull exposed, he finished the job with a final stab that pierced the skull and brain together.

“He killed Timothy!” The older man, named Ajax, shouted, backing away from the scene. “Who the hell are you?”

The man raised himself, standing over Timothy’s body. He half-turned his face towards Ajax. “Crevitar….” He muttered in a grim and dark voice, sending shivers in Ajax and the others who stayed behind. 

Crevitar grinned devilishly. “Next prey.”

***

“He killed Timothy!” Jemma, a blue-haired girl, heard being shouted by a fleeing woman. She recognized the woman as one of the popular girls at the mansion, the best friend to the owner’s daughter. 

“What’s wrong?” Lizzy asked, crouching up next to her. She was a blonde girl the same age and height as her. Jemma was 17. 

“I, I don’t know.” She muttered in response, peering through a small crack in the door. She couldn’t see much through it but stole a few glances at people fleeing through the main hallway connecting all of the bedrooms to the first floor. “I think we should leave.” 

Lizzy nodded, glancing at Moxie, the third and final person in their room. Moxie was hunched over in the fetal position muttering incoherently. “Y-Yeah, I think we should leave.”

“Grab Moxie and follow me,” Jemma ordered her as she revealed her pocket knife, her name engraved on the hilt. “We have to move fast.”

Lizzy nodded before turning around. She approached Moxie, hesitating on what to do. Should she pick her up as she is or try to piggyback her? She couldn’t figure out which one to do.

“Piggyback her,” Jemma said, deciding for her. Lizzy nodded again before she grabbed Moxie and took her out of the fetal position. She devised a plan that awkwardly shifted Moxie into position for a piggyback ride. Once the plan was executed and the petite redhead was on Lizzy’s back, she reached Jemma’s side. 

“Let’s go,” Lizzy told her. 

Jemma nodded before cracking the door further. She peered out, glancing around, but then felt a tremor run through the house, shaking all of the foundations. Lizzy dropped Moxie while Jemma held onto the door for support. She waited until after the tremor passed to turn around and assist Lizzy.

“What was that?” Lizzy asked her. “Earthquake? Now of all time?”

“I don’t know. Let’s just leave.” Jemma told her, shaken by the tremor both physically and mentally. An earthquake right now? Is it a coincidence or just bad luck? She quickly dismissed her thoughts and turned back to face the door. She peered outside the now fully opened door, getting a better look at the situation. She attempted to look past the railings, but couldn’t see anyone or any evidence of them. They had all fled the house, which was quickly supported by a horrific collection of screams and cries. Following them was a loud squishy sound that she didn’t recognize. 

“Follow me,” She muttered, hoping to not avoid the same fate as the others. Lizzy, who stood behind her with Moxie, nodded. She followed Jemma out of the room, matching her stance. Jemma led them out of the room, stopping them in their tracks temporarily to glance at the opposite end where Crevitar had killed Timothy, Ajax, and several others by piercing their heads. For some strange reason, he didn’t aim at their hearts. Instead, he took his time dissecting each corpse and extracting the heart. He then stored the hearts in his side bag, which quickly filled up. 

“Look at the ground,” Jemma whispered to her as she led Lizzy and Moxie away from their room, the farthest from the stairwell, and towards the stairs. They slowly crept down the red-carpeted hallway until they reached the stairwell, turning their bodies to head downstairs. 

“The Chosen One,” Crevitar suddenly muttered, spooking the girls. Crevitar looked around before he set his eyes on the girls, Jemma in particular. “I found you.”

Jemma felt chills running up and down her spine. However, she recovered quickly and ushered Lizzy and Moxie down the steps, following behind them. “Towards the door!” She exclaimed, disregarding her earlier plan of stealth. Stealth would be nothing more than a burden now. 

Crevitar disregarded the heart that he spent a minute extracting, turning towards the stairs and sprinting down it. He raced after Jemma and the others, easily catching up to them. He raised his knife and swung at them, nicking Jemma. She continued onward, barely fazed by the attack. 

“Run! Run through the door!” She exclaimed. Lizzy nodded, but she was slowing down. She was running out of stamina and a mumbling Moxie on her back didn’t help that notion. 

Crevitar swung again, this one catching Jemma by her shoulder. He hooked her, pulling her away from her friends. “Not leaving.” He muttered as he brought Jemma into arms-length range. “Never.”

Meanwhile, Lizzy and Moxie fled through the front door and escaped outside. However, they were presented with a gruesome image through the scattered corpses strung everywhere on the flat untilted ground that surrounded all four sides of the mansion. All of the corpses belonged to the people that fled, all caught by spikes and spears that rose from the ground. A strange and gruesome sight for Lizzy and Moxie, though they had little time to fully take it in. They continued moving forward, hoping to venture as far as they could - as long as