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The things that should only be in stories

Novel By: Nelly Brown
Horror



Jacksons parents were killed when he was still very young so hes sent off to live with his Pop. his pop likes to tell him stories once he was old enough to understand them but the stories cant be true can they??? now he is 25 and hunts the things that normal people call monsters/ghosts View table of contents...


Chapters:

1

Submitted:Apr 24, 2012    Reads: 13    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   


Chapter one

Waking up i push the blanket off me, get up and head into the kichen for my morning coffee. Waiting for the kettle to boil i open my laptop and turn it on. Typing in my password a few seconds later i hear the thud of the Sunday Times as it hits my front porch. "Oh good the papers here" i say to myself, walking over to my door and opening it up so i can grab it my eyes catch the main headline: "Mass Killing, 35 Dead.". Placing it down on the table i pour the boiling hot water into my coffee. Sitting down at the table a minute later to read the main story, Disturbeds Another way to die blasts from my phone. Its Ryan, what can he want at this tiime of morning?.

"Hello Ryan," i say answering the phone

"Hello Jackson, have you read the front page of the paper yet?"

"No not yet was just about to start reading it when u rang, something about a "mass killing"??? Guessing u have read it ... " i reply hoping that its not another job.

"A small town outside of Rockabee, called Oregon, has had some people there missing for atleast a week. Until just yesterday, they had not been found but three teenagers stumbled across a whole heap of bodies, all of them had parts missing from their bodies. Hands and arms, feet and legs.Ripped from the bodies by some animal or creature. The bodies were of course those of the missing people..."

"It was probably just a bear going rogue Ry" i say wishing i hadnt heard that because it meant another job.

"Maybe Jackson but why would it just leave them there and not take them all back to whereever it sleeps, cave or whatever???"

"Maybe it is expecting family or something so its was waiting them to show up and take what they want," i say hoping he would buy it.

"True i never thought of that. Well sorry bud but i got work in an hour so i got to go get ready, i will talk to you soon." Ryan urgently replies.

"Ok Ryan, have a good day, Cya!" i say back

"You too. bye" and the line goes dead.

Time to pack i think to myself, finishing my coffee.Grabbing my fake id's i flick through them and decide to go with FBI Agent Scott Stabler. I've always loved the name Scott and i would change my name to it if i had a normal life. Normal, what is a normal life anymore? My parrents had been killed when i was only 5 and i was sent to live with my Pop. Pop was my dad's dad. As soon as i reached the age of 9 he would tell me lots of stories about the supernatural, back then i just thought they were stories. Who would believe stories like the ones about haunted houses, angels, demons, shape changers and other nasties are really real and out there... Angels can be good too though but the ones that have decided to rebel against whatever it is up there that controls them they fall to Earth and cant go back up to heaven. So of course they choose to help Satan (Yes he is real too). The good ones get to roam whereever they want either on Earth or heaven, and go back and forward between the two places. but for the angels to walk on Earth they need what they call vessels which of course are us.

Continuing to pack i put in a few clothes, toiletries and other needs into my bag. reching down to the plug near my bed i pull out me phone charger and place it on top. Zipping up the bag a few minutes later i fling it over my shoulder and head back into the kichen to grab my laptop plus its power cord incase i may need it. making sure the windows and back door are closed and locked i grab the keys to my baby and head off out the front door locking it as i go out. My baby, a '67 Impala, dark blue, almost like the dark blue colur the ocean is when its at a deep part.





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