After years of renouncing his heritage and connection to voodoo, Sam Ethol, fifthteen-year-old is haunted by a mysterious voodoo practitioner that killed his father and multiple citizens of New Orleans.
After years of renouncing his heritage and connection to voodoo, Sam Ethol, fifthteen-year-old is haunted by a mysterious voodoo practitioner that killed his father and multiple citizens of New Orleans.
"Voodoo isn't real!"
Sam Ethol, a 16-year-old high school student said to his best friend, Stevie Lacroix as the two sat outside the Chow Pow, a popular dinner in New Orleans, LA.
"Come on Sammy. Are you going to sit here and tell me you don't believe in magic?" Stevie chuckled as he drank his glass of sweet tea.
"That's what, I'm telling you, Stevie," Sam replied to him.
As the two teenagers discussed their beliefs in the supernatural world, a large overweight man with dark skin and a bald head came toward them with a busboy tub and dropped it on the table between them.
"Alright, break times over." He said uninterested.
"Come on house, we still have ten minutes left," Sam complained.
"Yeah, I know. But we got a huge rush cause of Mardi Gras. We ain't got time to diddle dally. Now get going." House said.
"Oh well," Stevie complained also. "Another day, another quarter."
"Watch it, Croix. Just because your daddy is in the office doesn't mean you can bad mouth how I pay my help." House got annoyed.
"Alright House." Both boys gave up.
"Come on Stevie," Sam said as he pulled out a white apron behind the bus tub before grabbing at the second one to toss to Stevie. "Let's go get this quarter."
Vibrant sounds of triumphant and harmonicas filled the air as Sam and Stevie fastened their aprons and greeted multiple customers who were intoxicated by the vexatious sound of New Orleans.
Stevie grabbed a second bus tub to clear the tables when an unsettling figure spotted him from afar.
"Crap!" Stevie cursed as he maneuvered away from the overweight, red-haired man in a white business suit. The young man walked through the crowd until he bumped into Sam.
"Easy bro." Sam eyed him.
"Sorry man. I just saw you know who in the crowd." Stevie explained to him.
"Again?" Sam said as he looked around to find the intimidating man.
"Hey, busboys!" A blond-haired middle-aged woman called from the dining hall window, interrupting their conversation. "The cooks need the trash taken out." The lady said before she stormed off.
"Bro, can you get this one for me? I don't want to bump into that creep." Stevie asked.
"I got it, Shirley," Sam assured him and called after the lady.
Sam fist-bumped Stevie before putting away his bus tubs and walking into the kitchen.
The dreadlocked teenager moved past the cooks, frantically scurrying around the kitchen to finish the large quantity of food.
"Appreciate the hassle, Sammy," Shirley said.
"What I do best, Boss lady." Sam smiled at her.
Sam tied the large bag of trash before lifting it and haunting the heavy sack outside. The young busboy carried the garbage away to the dumpster several feet from the restaurant when a ceric chilled breeze flowed down his spine.
"Who's there?"
Sam turned around, gazing around his surroundings only to find nothing but the empty valley way behind him.
"Get it together Ethol." Sam thought to himself but was stopped abruptly.
"Sammy!" A chilling voice uttered his name but when the young man looks over his shoulder, he found nothing.
"It's getting too crazy out here. I should..."
Before he could finish his sentence, a divesting twister composed of green spirits was yelling in agony as Sam was trapped inside it.
The dreadlocked teenager fell to the floor. His mouth wide opened yet not a single word escaped it as his chest beat repetitively at an uncased pace.
Sam shut his eyes, tilling his head from the bizarre phenomenon until the painful screams ceased.
As he cautiously opened his eyes, he saw that the vortex was gone.
"Not again". He sighed.
Just as Sam stood up from the abnormal menace, a woman's scream penetrated the air, making Sam run inside only to find the kitchen covered with blood and the corpses of the chiefs dropped over the kitchen.
Across from Sam, the door leading to the main floor of the restaurant was broken open, occupied by the mass volume of the local socialites reduced to a lifeless husk.
"Stevie..., House... Shirley..." Sam yelled for any possible survivors, but he heard nothing.
The dread-locked teenager walked inside with his heart beating like a drum and his legs wobbled with every corpse he passed.
He looked up to the wall across from the kitchen entrance and found an unsettling message written boldly in blood.
"Take the throne, Voodoo Child."
Terror covered the young man's face as he back stepped further and further from the horrific situation in front of him.
"Why is this happening to me?" Sam began to wail but stopped when he heard a voice.
"Sam," Stevie called out in a battered state, his body lying on his side and struggling to get up.
"Stevie?" Sam ran to his best friend's side to help him to his feet.
"You alright man?" Sam asked him.
"Kinda, sort of," Stevie said out of breath.
"What the hell happened here?" Sam asked, wanting to know what happened exactly.
"No clue. One minute, I was clearing tables then suddenly, this guy in a red trench coat and black fedora walked in and shot out a swarm of bees everywhere." Stevie explained to him.
"Bees?"
"Yeah. It was crazy as hell, man."
The two boys lifted Shirley, making their way out of the kitchen. When they entered the dining hall, Sam could not help but noticed the bloody message on the wall.
"Sam, what are you looking at?" Shirley said, noticing that Sam's hand was still above.
"Can't you guys see that?" Sam asked, not understanding what was happening anymore. Sam lifted his arm and pointed to the well.
"See what?" Stevie asked.
"Yeah, I don't see anything either," Shirley added.
"That text in blood. "Sam explained. "It's painted on the wall."
"I told ya that this boy needs glasses." House projected as he got up before referring to Shirley. "Now stop fooling around and get the poor lady a seat."
As Sam helped his employer sit down, he felt a pinched pain on his left palm. "Ouch, that..."
He was cut off when he opened his hand only to find a glowing green silhouette of a voodoo mark in his palm before he completed his sentence.
"...Hurts".
The story is a battle between the forces of good and evil, with various obstacles blocking the path to success. The story starts off with three teenage girls who are each bullied and outcast in the orphanage/ boarding school ; Sigmund Ross Institution . They discover that they are all children of a god like demon named Zai and inherit demonic abilities that make them targets for a series of mystical creatures who seek their destruction.
Banished to an alternate dimension known as Parabola at a young age for releasing and becoming a host for the omniscient demon, Lilith, Olivia Cult masters her skills as a witch detective to combat supernatural threats that plague the human world and Parabola under the jurisdiction of the inter-dimensional police force, L.I.F.E. Although she yearns to one day reunite with her family, she soon receives a bittersweet opportunity to once again interact in the human world when a sinister occult of supernatural creatures known as The Blessing incapacities most of her allies and threatens to achieve I'm a get an on earth. Olivia must investigate the human world to find The Blessing and stop their plan while also keeping a distance from the family that abandoned her. But she will soon be put to the test tube to determine if she can achieve one of her goals without sacrificing the other.
Noelle was the long-lost daughter everyone had been searched for, yet the family brushed her off and fawned over her stand-in. Tired of scorn, she walked away and married a man whose influence could shake the country. Dance phenom, street-race champ, virtuoso composer, master restorer-each secret triumph hit the headlines, and her family's smug smiles cracked. Father charged back from abroad, mother wept for a hug, and five brothers knelt in the rain begging. Beneath the jeweled night sky, her husband pulled her close, his voice a velvet promise. "They're not worth it. Come on, let's just go home."
For three years, I documented the slow death of my marriage in a black journal. It was my 100-point divorce plan: for every time my husband, Blake, chose his first love, Ariana, over me, I deducted points. When the score hit zero, I would leave. The final points vanished the night he left me bleeding out from a car crash. I was eight weeks pregnant with the child we had prayed for. In the ER, the nurses frantically called him-the star surgeon of the very hospital I was dying in. "Dr. Santos, we have a Jane Doe, O-negative, bleeding out. She's pregnant, and we're about to lose them both. We need you to authorize an emergency blood transfer." His voice came over the speaker, cold and impatient. "I can't. My priority is Miss Whitfield. Do what you can for the patient, but I can't divert anything right now." He hung up. He condemned his own child to death to ensure his ex-girlfriend had resources on standby after a minor procedure.
"Wasn't I good in bed? Didn't I spoil you enough? What the hell did those fuckers give you that I couldn't?" My husband, Dean, yells at me for the very first time, gripping my hand and when I look into his eyes, I see how much he's hurting, how much he believed all the lies, how much he's not willing to listen. "I'd never do that to you, Dean. I love you, please believe me," tears streamed down my face as I pleaded with him. "You're meant for the streets Bella, and that's where you'd always be," And just like that my once perfect marriage hits the rock edge in a twinkle of an eye. A stripper, an exotic dancer but none of that mattered to Dean, he promised to love me and he kept to his words, not until this day. And even worse, he used my past against me, something he swore never to do.. ***** Ethan Fernandez, is a notorious casanova and unlike his friend, he never commits to any woman until his path crosses with Ivy, the formidable lawyer and the last person that gives a fuck about men and their shenanigans. Now, the player becomes the played as his life takes an unexpected turn with the walking temptation that lurks in the form of Ivy Reynolds.
On the day of her grand engagement, she was betrayed by her fiancé and stepsister and died in a cruel setup. But fate gave her a second chance. Reborn as a sharp, fearless woman, the once naïve heiress is back for revenge. Those who hurt her will pay-one by one. Armed with financial brilliance and a ruthless heart, she rises to the top of the business world. But she catches the attention of a powerful CEO who is even more dangerous-cold, calculating, and determined to make her his wife. Two masterminds collide in a fiery romance filled with schemes, passion, and payback. In this game of love and power, only they are worthy opponents-and perfect partners.
Yelena discovered that she wasn't her parents' biological child. After seeing through their ploy to trade her as a pawn in a business deal, she was sent away to her barren birthplace. There, she stumbled upon her true origins-a lineage of historic opulence. Her real family showered her with love and adoration. In the face of her so-called sister's envy, Yelena conquered every adversity and took her revenge, all while showcasing her talents. She soon caught the attention of the city's most eligible bachelor. He cornered Yelena and pinned her against the wall. "It's time to reveal your true identity, darling."
Eliana reunited with her family, now ruined by fate: Dad jailed, Mom deathly ill, six crushed brothers, and a fake daughter who'd fled for richer prey. Everyone sneered. But at her command, Eliana summoned the Onyx Syndicate. Bars opened, sickness vanished, and her brothers rose-one walking again, others soaring in business, tech, and art. When society mocked the "country girl," she unmasked herself: miracle doctor, famed painter, genius hacker, shadow queen. A powerful tycoon held her close. "Country girl? She's my fiancée!" Eliana glared at him. "Dream on." Resolutely, he vowed never to let go.
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