Author's e-books - Terror. Page - 1
The front two motorcyclists didn’t notice a noose made out of thin string, near-invisible at the end of the street, or the tripwires that were on the side of the nooses. The motorcyclists made it to the end of the street and placed their heads in the right spots for the nooses. The nooses were big enough for their heads to fit through and thin enough for the targets to not feel their death looming around their necks. The man smirked as he wriggled his fingers, which controlled the nooses. He curled his fingers, bringing the string closer to him. The string tightened around the motorcyclists' heads and ripped them out of their bikes. Their bikes dropped to the ground and laid flat, the engine continuing to run. The motorcyclists were held in the air and gasped as they struggled to get out of the nooses. The man brought his hand closer to his chest and balled his fingers, breaking the necks of both motorcyclists. The squad cards behind the now-dead motorcyclists attempted to gas past the nooses but managed to find themselves caught in the tripwires. The tripwires ignited and an explosion tore through the squad cars. The squad cars from behind the limousines broke out of formation and headed towards the front of the pack followed by the motorcyclists. They didn’t notice a tripwire in front of them leading to the squad cars and the first limousine to be destroyed in the explosion. The remainder of the convoy---two limousines and two motorcyclists---attempted to reverse and escape through the other side of the street. The motorcyclists turned around and tried to swerve around oncoming traffic, but invisible nooses caught them by their necks. The man spared no time and brought his hands to his chest, breaking the motorcyclist's necks. The remaining vehicles, two limousines, stopped dead in their tracks. The doors open as people from the limousines attempted to scatter and escape through nearby alleyways.
Everyone has dreams and nightmares, but not everyone can remember them. This is a small portion of the nightmares that I suffer from nightly.
It was morning, something that I dreaded I couldn’t believe it was time; it only seemed like a week ago, when my father told me I was a Sniper. I could remember each scene, as he told me, I Lexis Alice Zane, is a Sniper. As he stood there behind the house telling me to take a seat, “Honey, I need to tell you something”, he sighed “You’re a Sniper”, and I looked at him confused, what the heck is a Sniper? Is it werewolf?
The front two motorcyclists didn’t notice a noose made out of thin string, near-invisible at the end of the street, or the tripwires that were on the side of the nooses. The motorcyclists made it to the end of the street and placed their heads in the right spots for the nooses. The nooses were big enough for their heads to fit through and thin enough for the targets to not feel their death looming around their necks. The man smirked as he wriggled his fingers, which controlled the nooses. He curled his fingers, bringing the string closer to him. The string tightened around the motorcyclists' heads and ripped them out of their bikes. Their bikes dropped to the ground and laid flat, the engine continuing to run. The motorcyclists were held in the air and gasped as they struggled to get out of the nooses. The man brought his hand closer to his chest and balled his fingers, breaking the necks of both motorcyclists. The squad cards behind the now-dead motorcyclists attempted to gas past the nooses but managed to find themselves caught in the tripwires. The tripwires ignited and an explosion tore through the squad cars. The squad cars from behind the limousines broke out of formation and headed towards the front of the pack followed by the motorcyclists. They didn’t notice a tripwire in front of them leading to the squad cars and the first limousine to be destroyed in the explosion. The remainder of the convoy---two limousines and two motorcyclists---attempted to reverse and escape through the other side of the street. The motorcyclists turned around and tried to swerve around oncoming traffic, but invisible nooses caught them by their necks. The man spared no time and brought his hands to his chest, breaking the motorcyclist's necks. The remaining vehicles, two limousines, stopped dead in their tracks. The doors open as people from the limousines attempted to scatter and escape through nearby alleyways.
Everyone has dreams and nightmares, but not everyone can remember them. This is a small portion of the nightmares that I suffer from nightly.
It was morning, something that I dreaded I couldn’t believe it was time; it only seemed like a week ago, when my father told me I was a Sniper. I could remember each scene, as he told me, I Lexis Alice Zane, is a Sniper. As he stood there behind the house telling me to take a seat, “Honey, I need to tell you something”, he sighed “You’re a Sniper”, and I looked at him confused, what the heck is a Sniper? Is it werewolf?