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Chapter 2

Rated M
by Bookofshadows
Tags   supernatural   horror   | Report Content

A A A A

 

Kathy was dreaming, deep and restless, curled into herself on the couch like a bug shriveling on a white-hot summer sidewalk. She was covered in a sheen of oily, rancid sweat. This was partially caused by her body's struggle to rid itself of the noxious concoction of alcohol, cocaine, MDMA and GHB that was still swirling about her system: it was also because of the dream, which wasn't really a dream at all, but a sinister blend of nightmare and memory.
 
In her dream, a guy was standing in front of her on a dance floor that was located somewhere in Hell. He was hot in a square-chinned, mean-eyed sort of way. Behind him and all around, the flashing neon and glittering tile stretched endlessly in all directions. They were surrounded by people who were gyrating in loose, swirling groups. Something was off about them ... they seemed uncoordinated, jerky and stumbling. Kathy couldn't see their faces. She was afraid to see their faces. The beat of the pounding music that shook the air around them was too fast, off-kilter. It sounded more like warfare than club music.
 
The hot guy smiled a bland, generic-handsome smile and unbuttoned his white dress shirt. He pulled it open to reveal a smooth, muscular torso that was hideously marred by missing chunks of meat. The raw, bloodless wounds looked like bites.
 
"It's no longer an EPI-demic, bitch," he told her, still smiling, "it's a PAN-demic, now. Do you know what that means?"
 
"No," she answered him. Kathy suddenly realized that she was naked. Her skin was pebbled with gooseflesh, and her wide, dark nipples were standing at ram-rod straight attention. None of the shuffling, jittering clubbers around them seemed to notice or care.
 
"Means that we're dinner, that's what. Means that we're all fucked. You like to be fucked, though, right? You wanna go outside somewhere and fuck right now? I'm down to pound vag, bitch."
 
She opened her mouth to tell him no but suddenly they were outside, in a filthy and constricted little alley. They were standing by a small, narrow door with a glowing EXIT sign that dangled from loose wiring above it. The crazed beats from inside the club could still be heard through the club's back exit door, speeding and stuttering along like an old tape reel that was self-destructing. Just like the interior of the dream-club, the alley seemed to stretch both ways into a black, inky infinity. She could smell the rotting garbage in the dumpster nearby, could smell mold and damp and death. The frat-boy was now as completely naked as Kathy was herself. The frat-boy's body was covered in ragged bite wounds. Shreds of skin dangled from the gnawed edges of the bite-holes. A mottled loop of intestine was slowly squeezing out of a particularly bad one on his lower stomach, at a spot where teeth had worried completely through the muscle wall. It slowly oozed out of the hole and dangled down lower and lower, steadily escaping from the confines of the boy's abdomen.
 
Behind him stood a semi-circle of his frat brothers, all of them naked, all of them sporting erections that were exaggeratedly massive to a brutal degree. No woman could ever experience such a member and live. Their faces were mutilated to the point of being featureless, churned-up masses of meat, tendon, and gristle.
 
"Does this look familiar, bitch?" the frattie asked, and he began to stroke his cock to attention. "We came out here to bang, don't you remember? You girls were down to fuck. We made sure of that, didn't we? Guard your drinks, girls. We G'd you bitches, you got silly, and people started getting naked. Then THEY came out, and they joined the party, and the fuckin' party went downhill fast."
 
Still smiling blandly, the corpse pointed down the alley. Kathy could hear the sound of shoes scraping against wet, cracked pavement. Groaning. Growling. Like a wave, they lurched out of the darkness and into the weak glow of the lighted exit sign. It was the patrons of the club, shuffling towards them in their tight dresses and fitted T-shirts, and now she could see their faces. Their torn, dead faces. Kathy screamed.
 
"You got out of here, grabbed your skank dress and heels off the ground and you stumbled off with the other bitch in tow. Fuckin' snort our shit up like a vacuum, then take off running when the zombies come - typical, bitch, sooo typical. We tried to fight them, but you can't punch out a dead guy, y'know." His grin disappeared, and the boy looked at her seriously. "They took our shots without a care in the world, just steamed right in. They bit us, and fuckin' CHEWED us, and there were so MANY of them. Look at all those fuckers." He motioned over at the approaching mob of ghouls. "While they were eating us alive, you ran. You and the other whore. Do you remember?"
 
"No!" Kathy shouted back. She wasn't denying anything that he'd said, exactly; rather, she was saying no to the whole situation in general. Just ... no. She shot another look at the monsters that were advancing upon them, and wheeled on her bare soles, poised to run once again. The frattie grabbed her arm hard, and it instantly went numb. He threw her to the ground. Stones and sharp bits of pavement bit into the skin of her back and buttocks. Kathy's naked arms and legs were seized by dead hands, and she was pinned to the dirty, wet cement by the faceless fraternity boys. Her legs were wrenched apart, and they held her down like a starfish. The leader dropped to his knees between her splayed legs. He was decaying now, his hair straggly wisps and his body bloated by methane gas. The young man's naked skin was a mottled patchwork of grey shifting into blue, then purple. His eyes were milky and dull. The hard-on he sported appeared shriveled, dessicated. It oozed some vile, chunky liquid from the tip, a gurgle of ejaculate soured to curds by the chemical heat produced by the rot of the dead man's loins. The shuffling horde loomed over his shoulders, cracked lips wrinkling back from yellowed teeth in anticipation. Kathy writhed her torso vigorously, but to no avail.
 
He settled forward and hovered above the girl, his dead eyes staring sightlessly into her face. The puffing of the dead boy's fetid exhalations made her gag. "It's not an epidemic, not anymore, you cheap little slut," the cadaver grated down at her. He readied to push himself in. Kathy shrieked against this, "No! No, NO!
 
"It's a fuckin' PANDEMIC now, bitch, BRACE yourself, here it fucking COMES-"
 
Kathy woke up on the floor beside the couch, panting hot and heavy. She was wrapped in a blanket and was fighting against the blanket wildly. The girl's pert ass and lower back throbbed in synchronized waves of pain - she'd landed hard when the she slid off the couch, locked in throes of a desperate struggle against the nightmare-boy. Kathy's patch of vomit from earlier was smeared into the back of her tank top in a most distasteful fashion, but she barely noticed this, nor did she notice that her right arm was in the grasp of a severe pins-and-needles predicament from sleeping on it.
 
The object that her eyes were transfixed upon was the TV screen. Emblazoned across FOX's screen was a banner of red that trumpeted, NO LONGER AN EPIDEMIC. Below this:
 
SITUATION IS NOW A WORLD-WIDE PANDEMIC.
 
Oh shit... fuck ... Stacy...
 
Kathy jumped up to find her phone. On the TV, police sirens were wailing and gunfire was pop popping away. It echoed the sounds of lunatic strife that were drifting in through the windows from the street below.
 
 
........
 
 
Pagan was in the shower. He was humming a hit that had been popular at the club lately, and rinsing off an effort-sweat of the likes that his body had literally never seen before. He soaped his sagging folds and, to prepare for what was coming, he decided to clear the plumbing. Ten seconds after he began to stroke his dick, Pagan grunted and spewed a thin drizzle of semen onto the bottom of the tub, where it was instantly washed down the drain.
 
Kathy had been correct in her assumptions of his staying power.
 
Premature ejaculation issues now dealt with, the fat man shut off the water and dried himself with a towel that was far too small to handle the job. Still glistening, he jiggled out into the room and laid down on the bed beside his new toy. She was tied face-down to the mattress, pinioned to the four posts by her wrists and ankles. He'd used his boot laces on her arms, and the polyester sashes that had bound the curtains back were now securing the captive monster's legs in a widely-spread V. It had been difficult beyond words to secure the dead girl in this position - several times during this wrangling, Pagan had been sure that the feral, wiry thing was about to slip out of his sweaty grasp and latch onto his throat.
 
"Hi, baby-girl. Mmm-mm, you look so damn good like this, hell yes. This is how bitches should always be," he told her. She was struggling tirelessly against her bonds, trying to pull back and forth against them ... but once upon a time Pagan had been a boy named Dennis Francis, a shy and overweight boy who had been very active in the Boy Scouts. He had made absolutely certain that the impromptu ropes were tied as taut as possible, and there was no slack for her to work with. The thing tensed her body continuously against her bondage. It made the lithe muscles ripple beneath the fascinating grey and blue shades of her skin. Her dead hide was stained darker colors on the back of her body, where the blood had began to settle as she'd been laying in the tub. Her buttocks and a few patches on her back were unmarred by the discoloration - these spots were where her body weight had rested, squeezing the rapidly-congealing blood out of the capillaries in the skin there. He traced the outlines of these light-blue patches with a finger, then played connect the dots with them. Her flesh was cold to the touch. The dead girl's constant straining against her bonds made her body's musculature stand out in Di Vincian relief. Her ass cheeks looked like twin marble carvings; greyish-white, and clenched to perfection. Pagan fondled them, traced the curvature and plane of their surfaces. He slapped them, and giggled at the flat, dry crack that issued forth every time he swung his palm down.
 
While he did this, the dead girl tried her damndest to snake her neck out far enough to bite Pagan's face. Clack-clack-clack-clack, her jaws snapped hard onto thin air, so hard that the sound echoed in the sparsely furnished room. Stacy's blue eyes were covered by a thin film of translucent cataract. They stared at him with no emotion save hunger. Pure, primal need. He stared back at her with a similar expression.
 
"Gonna have to do something 'bout your teeth, girl. Can't have no accidents." He got up and strolled naked over to the glass doors that led out onto the balcony. He couldn't see what was happening down on the street because the balcony was in the way, but Pagan could hear plenty. For the past half an hour, things had been getting considerably louder out there. Shouts, sirens, the blaring horns of gridlocked traffic - and gunfire. Pagan didn't have to see what was going down out there to know the score: he'd viewed enough zombie flicks to know that the situation was rapidly going to shit outside of his cozy little hotel room. As he looked out the window at the business high-rise across the street, he saw a man smash through a ten-story window and fall, screaming and wind-milling, down to his certain death below. There was a chorus of screams at this from the street, but Pagan was too far up in his third-story room to hear the impact. He imagined that it would have sounded much like an over-ripe pumpkin being smashed on a sidewalk.
 
A figure stood briefly at the broken window, then disappeared back into the gloom to search for new prey.
 
Pagan heard his cell phone ringing. He went over to where his pants lay crumpled on the floor, and fished the phone out of the hip pocket.
 
"What's taking fucking so long? Where are you?" Pagan listened, then scowled ferociously. His fat cheeks quivered. He ran a hand through his long, rapidly-afro-ing hair and blew an unsympathetic gust of air through his lips, pffft.
 
"The fuck you mean, 'I can't make it through the traffic?' How close are you? Where you at?" He listened again, and his eyes narrowed. "Then get your ass out and walk, nigga. What I pay you for? To be a scared little bitch? Not on my dollar, son, hell no. You're my boy, dawg, you know that; I pay you to have my motherfuckin' back at all times. I need you up in this motherfucker over here, right fuckin' now ... what?! NO, you ignorant Negro, this ain't the end of the fuckin' world!" He shouted the lie into the phone with a feverish tone of indignity. "There ain't no need to be gettin' religious all of a sudden. No, don't go get your Moms, she's gonna be just fuckin' fine wherever the woman currently be. All you gonna end up doing is get yourselves both dead. Listen to me, my nigga,listen real hard, because you're pissing me off with this pussy shit and I ain't gonna be happy if I gotta repeat myself." Pagan took a deep breath and sat his blubbery, naked ass down heavily on Stacy's back. She undulated and hissed beneath him. This felt good on many different levels, and he smiled.
 
"It's time to man up, my nigga. Everything's all chaotic and shit out there right now, and it's dangerous, and I don't give a fuck. Get out of your ride, man up, and walk the fuck over here. It's only six blocks, man, you can get here in no time. You're one hard-ass nigga, and that's why you my boy. You're tough as nails. This is a good thing, because this shit is for real. These things will fuck your shit up if you let 'em get a hold of you ... anyone comes anywhere near you, you blast his stupid ass. Man, woman or child. Cop, even, I don't give a fuck. You draw and you pop 'em right in the head, cold as ice. There's so much shit going on out there right now, no one'll even notice. Get the fuck going, dawg, I need you here." He glanced briefly down at the body that was trapped beneath his massively fat ass. Stacy was straining to look at him from over her shoulder. Her teeth gnashed unceasingly.
 
"Yo, dawg, wait up ... you get what I asked you to get?" Pagan asked the voice on the other end, and nodded approvingly at his response. "Yeah? That's good ... I don't know if I need some of that shit still, but you bring it anyhow. See you real soon."
 
Pagan lifted his bulk up for a moment, placed the phone on the cheap wooden nightstand beside the bed, then plopped back down to resume grinding and itching his asshole against the straining, rigid backside of the thing beneath him. The sensation was nothing short of amazing. He wedged his hands between Stacy and the bed, seeking out her tits and finding them. Grinning madly, Pagan twisted the pliant mounds of deceased flesh as he smeared and soothed his hemorrhoidal bung against the living corpse pinned beneath him. Ah, it was good. So good.
 
"No wonder dogs do this shit on rugs," he grunted. His cock was a stiff, somewhat crooked branch, which poked through a wiry cover of oily pubic hair to nudge against the underside of his sagging gut. Stacy cranked her head around until her neck creaked, and stared at his hard-on with mindless hunger. She snapped her teeth at it.
 
Clack. Clack. Clack-clack-clack-clack-
 
This, for some reason, ignited his mind into a fiery rage. He screamed "STOP THAT, BITCH!" and slammed his pudgy fist into her exposed right cheek. The fragile bone snapped beneath the cool, rubbery flesh, and the dead girl's head spun back around fast-first into the bed. Pagan seized her hair and pushed her cranium hard against the mattress, forcing her gnashing jaws to bite into the mattress beneath her face. With his other hand, he pushed the relatively unmottled flesh of Stacy's tensed ass cheeks apart. Her anus was greying now, as well. He studied this phenomenon briefly with a species of unbalanced, depraved scientific curiosity - then curled over til his nose was almost touching the corpse's ass-crack, and deliberately spat a large, greenish-brown wad of semi-gelatinous mucus onto the discolored ring of her exposed asshole. It oozed off immediately and ran down over the purple-brown lips of her deceased pussy, then dripped off out of sight. Pagan muttered a curse and tried again. Satisfied now that the ride would be relatively smooth, he grasped his erection and pushed it hard against the puckered, dead-liver ring of Stacy's anus. There were a few moments of cold resistance ... then he was inside her ass, bucking and keening, slobbering, sweating and rolling his eyeballs helplessly. While he buggered his unwilling captive, Pagan battered the back of her head and shoulders with his free hand. The blows caused a reflex that made her rectum tighten around his member spastically. She struggled wildly beneath him, and he pushed the creature's face harder into the bed as a response. So tight, so unwilling ... He wrapped his hands around the things throat and squeezed convulsively when he came. Cartilidge crunched beneath his fingers when he shot his load up the dead girl's ass.
 
Ah, sweet Jesus, it was good. It was so good.
 
.......
 
 
Pagan had just cleaned off his dick and got his clothes back on when there was a knock at the door, hard and panicked, WHAM WHAM WHAM WHAM. A husky voice said, low and urgent, "Hurry up, please man, fuckin' hurry!" He trundled over and, after checking through the peephole, he threw it open. The knocker scurried inside, a large black man clad in an all-red track suit. He held a Glock 17 9mm in one massive, tattooed hand, and an Adidas gym bag in the other. His eyes were wide and wild. He opened his mouth and a stream of garbled words spewed forth.

 

"Fucking things are all the fuck over the place, man! Cops are blasting 'em with shotguns. I shot a nigga right in the neck, dawg, right in the middle of his throat, and he just kept coming at me. There's people runnin' around screamin', all bloody and shit ... It's fucked out there, man, I mean I know you said it ain't the end of times but it is, the dead walk and the dead eat, they fuckin' eat us, it's Revelations like my Mama used to talk about and what the fuck is that tied to the bed?!"
 
"Chill the fuck out, nigga," Pagan soothed, and stood between his boy and the bound,struggling corpse on the hotel bed. "That's my girl, right there. She's a wild one, ya'll wanna be careful near that bitch."
 
The newcomer gaped over the top of Pagan's round, frizzy hair and tried to absorb exactly what it was that he was seeing, there. The answer was obvious, but ... no. Really?
 
"Man," he whispered, "you ... you been fuckin' it?"
 
Pagan said nothing. The answer was dancing in the lunatic light that shone in his eyes. It was being broadcast in full color by his maniacal grin.
 
" ... the fuck ..." the red jump-suited man breathed. His mouth hung open, forming a cavern of incredulous shock.
 
"I was doing interviews for the club, and my girl here came looking for a job. She was sick. Then she died, right there in the bathroom. Had a zombie bite on her titty. Now ... well, now me 'n her are going steady."
 
Pagan's hired gun looked decidedly ill, now. His chocolate complexion had paled to chalk, and his lip trembled. The big man took two large, shaky-kneed steps away from his employer.
 
"Man, I always thought that you be one sick, disgusting motherfucker ... but this shit is seriously ill, dawg. Naw. Fuck this." He dropped the Adidas bag and turned for the door. "I ain't doin' none of this. I ain't helpin' you rape a dead zombie bitch, you dig? I ain't going to that place. It's too far."
 
"C'mon, man, where do you think you're gonna -"
 
"I'm gettin' my Moms and we're heading for one of the safety zones they be talkin' about on the radio and shit. I'll kill any nigga that try and stop us, Cuz. I'll blast any zombie-lookin'-ass-nigga that come near me." The trigger-man drew himself up to his full six feet four inches, and stared down hard at his boss. "In fact, I'll blast anyone at all. Anyone, my brotha. Cool? Yeah. I'll be lettin' myself out now, and you go on ahead and do whatever the fuck it is that you plan on doing here. And may God have mercy on your s-"
 
"You can't leave yet, nigga," Pagan interrupted. The corpulent man's glower transformed his face from merely ugly to something almost demon-esque. "You can't leave because your kicks be untied and shit. You'll trip on 'em."
 
"Huh?" Confused, the unsuspecting man looked down at his feet.
 
Moving with a speed that completely belied his stature, Pagan jumped in close and upper-cutted his henchman with a left while grabbing for the gun with his right. The man's wide head snapped back up to the ceiling, and he grunted. Pagan pulled down on the Glock and his boy pulled up in an automatic response: Pagan abruptly reversed the tension and slammed the gun up into the man's teeth. They shattered with a sound like ceramic being smashed with a hammer. The red-jumpsuited lackey fell to his knees, choking on blood and bits of tooth enamel. Pagan wrenched the gun from his lax grip and pistol-whipped the man repeatedly on the top of his do-rag-adorned skull. Panting, he seized his groaning employee by the back of his sweatshirt and dragged him over to the bed. Stacy hissed and growled at their approach. Her throat was so badly damaged at this point that she was barely audible. Her milky pupils were fixed on the henchman's bloody, semi-conscious face.
 
"You ain't a hard man, nigga," Pagan gasped, "you soft as shit. Do you think you're a bad man? Huh? Here, bad man, why don'tcha prove how bad you are and kiss my girl?" With that, Pagan shoved the guy's face down into hers, and she latched onto his puffy, lacerated lips with the force of a bear trap. Burning agony ripped through his dazed brain. The sheer horror of it all ... the man screamed, but it was muffled by his own lips, which were clamped shut over his mouth by the dead girl's teeth - "MMMMmmmMMM!" The henchman tried to jerk away from the awful thing that was battened onto his face, but he had no leverage in his kneeling position, and Pagan held him with the lunatic strength of the insane.
 
"Come on, boy, kiss that bitch deep! You sorry little faggot, tongue that shit!"
 
Her teeth met through his lips, Stacy shook her head like an attack dog, and then she was chewing his severed lips with the zeal of a famished woman tucking into a delicious meal. The man screamed again - no longer fettered by a fleshy gate, the shrill sound tore out of the bloody hole that was his mouth with the force of a freight-train, and crimson droplets misted Stacy's purple-blue visage in a fine stipple. She spat out his deflated lip-skin, then drove her head back in to latch onto his wide nose, crunch. The henchman's shrieking filled the room with a horrible cacophony of pain and panic. The toes of his pristine-white sneakers drummed against the carpet. He wet himself.
 
"Git you some, bitch! Git you some of that motherfuckin' face meat!" Pagan was laughing, shrill and strident. He pinned the man's chest against the bed with his bulk and tensed hard against his desperate flailing. His face was being quickly decimated, chewed and torn away to the bone. The man's whole existence had narrowed and closed down to this one point of agony and terror: being eaten alive, face-first ... battered and held in place by a man whom he had trusted and relied on for years. The horror of this could not possibly be described with mere words.
 
"Gettin' gassed out up here, bitch, give this fool a hickey!" Pagan slobbered, panting, and heaved his former friend higher onto the bed. Immediately, Stacy sank her teeth into his windpipe. He glurked and thrashed as if in a seizure. She shook her head again, and a fountain of blood sprayed out, soaking her face and the rumpled pillows with a glut of copper-stinking red.
 
His struggles weakened. Pagan counted to thirty, then tore the dying man out of the grasp of Stacy's savage teeth, rrrrip. Pagan flung the red-jumpsuited victim onto his back on the floor, where he commenced to sunfish and spasm like a contortionist. His face was a raw, ragged mess. A toothless maw twitched meaninglessly; his remaining eye rolled as if it were loose inside of its socket. The flow of blood from the gaping tear in the man's throat was slowing in synchronicity with the failing of his heartbeat. It was leaking into a tepid, congealing pool on the carpet beneath his head. Pagan hunkered down onto his flabby ham hocks and lectured the dying fellow.
 
"You don't walk out on me, nigga - I walk out on you, you dig that shit? Fucking punk. You judging me? You couldn't handle my girl's love. My girl eats punk niggas like you for breakfast. That bitch is too much woman for a faggot like you, son. She's wild. She's ..." he trailed off, considering and organizing his train of thought carefully. His glazed eyes stared without seeing at the ruins of his boy's face. "She's evolved," he said, finally. This realization made his blunt features light up with a sunny smile. "My girl has fuckin' transcended the bonds of civilized discourse, you dying-ass little bitch. She has evolved past civility, right back into a state of primal needs and shit. All she wants is to kill, like an animal, and to control such an animal is to be like a God."
 
Pagan straightened up to his feet, painfully. His body ached beneath the manic thrumming of endorphins and adrenalin. "I conquered this magnificent bitch. I over-powered her, bound her, and now I will fuck her, son. While the world falls apart outside of that door, I will fuck this pure, primal beast in any way I goddamn well please."
 
The man's breathing was shallow, fast and harsh: trauma and blood loss had sent him into a cardiac arrest. Pagan shook his head at him and wagged a short, stumpy forefinger - no, no, no. "Naw," he said, "I can't be havin' you coming back on me. Nope. I've got a lady to attend to, dawg."
 
Pagan picked the 9mm off of the floor, pulled the slide back until it cocked forward with a crisp snick!
 
"Thanks for all the entertainment you just provided us, fool. Now say g'night." He pulled the trigger. BLAM! The gunshot was deafening in the small room. The man's head jerked and expanded out into a new and horrid shape. Brain matter sprayed.
 
The man crumpled inward, a squished bug, and was still. Pagan let him lay there to leak onto the carpet some more. He'd deal with that garbage later. The entire ordeal had left him feeling horny as hell - and there was a certain, special young lady who just so happened to be unwillingly available for his attentions.
 
Pagan tore off his clothes and lay heavily atop the living, struggling corpse that was tied to the blood-spattered bed. He pushed himself inside of her cold, dry rectum and rocked his bloated form back and forth, back and forth. The sounds of his phlegmy moaning were punctuated by the incessant clack-clack-clack of the girl's teeth; behind this, there was an orchestra outside made up of blaring sirens, screams, and high-caliber firearms. This hellish din was music in Pagan's ears. It was beautiful music to make love to.
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Fantasy  on says:
Too bad that I had to read from my sisters account, you know, the m rating.
Was it just me or were some of the scenes a little awkward?

Fantasy  on says:
The way you write really hooks the reader in.... Well, from my opinion. I can't say anything for everyone else lol
Oh yeah, I just laughed because decay rhymes with grey, I guess that's why I had decided to read the story....

exo-exorcism  on says about chapter 3:
my goodness this is incredible. Your writing is awesome!! Ive never read a zombie story as disgustingly detailed as this, its great!

applecyanide  on says:
Amazing writing, yo. At first, I thought this was a supernatural (the show) fanfic, but then it wasn't. Oh, well. Can't say I was disappointed though. Great story :)

arosebushqueen  on says about chapter 2:
So this was kind of disturbing....but it was so wonderfully written!

exo-exorcism  on says about chapter 2:
HOLY JESUS _____ THAT WAS AMAZING and disgusting BUT AWESOME! You're writing is fantastic!!!!!!' I do love me some zombie stories but damn that was some next level dead man walking business right there

pococo  on says about chapter 1:
This is...sending me shivers down my spine OTL
But it's good :D

DragonBreath  on says about chapter 1:
You have a really good writing style! ^^
Love the story... so far!! :D

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