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.
The heavy thud of the release stamp was the only goodbye I got from the warden after five years in federal prison. I stepped out into the blinding sun, expecting the same flash of paparazzi bulbs that had seen me dragged away in handcuffs, but there was only a single black limousine idling on the shoulder of the road. Inside sat my mother and sister, clutching champagne and looking at my frayed coat with pure disgust. They didn't offer a welcome home; instead, they tossed a thick legal document onto the table and told me I was dead to the city. "Gavin and I are getting engaged," my sister Mia sneered, flicking a credit card at me like I was a stray dog. "He doesn't need a convict ex-fiancée hanging around." Even after I saved their lives from an armed kidnapping attempt by ramming the attackers off the road, they rewarded me by leaving me stranded in the dirt. When I finally ran into Gavin, the man who had framed me, he pinned me against a wall and threatened to send me back to a cell if I ever dared to show my face at their wedding. They had stolen my biotech research, ruined my name, and let me rot for half a decade while they lived off my brilliance. They thought they had broken me, leaving me with nothing but an expired chapstick and a few old photos in a plastic bag. What they didn't know was that I had spent those five years becoming "Dr. X," a shadow consultant with five hundred million dollars in crypto and a secret that would bring the city to its knees. I wasn't just a victim anymore; I was a weapon, and I was pregnant with the heir they thought they had erased. I walked into the Melton estate and made an offer to the most powerful man in New York. "I'll save your grandfather's life," I told Horatio Melton, staring him down. "But the price is your last name. I'm taking back what's mine, and I'm starting with the man who thinks he's marrying my sister."
The whispers said that out of bitter jealousy, Hadley shoved Eric's beloved down the stairs, robbing the unborn child of life. To avenge, Eric forced Hadley abroad and completely cut her off. Years later, she reemerged, and they felt like strangers. When they met again, she was the nightclub's star, with men ready to pay fortunes just to glimpse her elusive performance. Unable to contain himself, Eric blocked her path, asking, "Is this truly how you earn a living now? Why not come back to me?" Hadley's lips curved faintly. "If you’re eager to see me, you’d better join the queue, darling."
Vesper's marriage to Julian Sterling was a gilded cage. One morning, she woke naked beside Damon Sterling, Julian's terrifying brother, then found a text: Julian's mistress was pregnant. Her world shattered, but the real nightmare had just begun. Julian's abuse escalated, gaslighting Vesper, funding his secret life. Damon, a germaphobic billionaire, became her unsettling anchor amidst his chaos. As "Iris," Vesper exposed Julian's mistress, Serena Sharp, sparking brutal war: poisoned drinks, a broken leg, and the horrifying truth-Julian murdered her parents, trapping Vesper in marriage. The man she married was a killer. Broken and betrayed, Vesper was caught between monstrous brothers, burning with injustice. Refusing victimhood, Vesper reclaimed her identity. Fueled by vengeance, she allied with Damon, who vowed to burn his empire for her. Julian faced justice, but matriarch Eleanor's counterattack forced Vesper's choice as a hitman aimed for her.
For three years, I was the perfect, invisible wife. My husband, Jaden, called the songs I poured my soul into "trash," then secretly fed them to his pop-star mistress to make her famous. Then one night, after being drugged at a gala, I woke up in a stranger's bed. It wasn't just the betrayal that shattered me; it was the soul-deep certainty that this powerful, dangerous man was my true fated mate. I fled home in a panic, only to find a message on Jaden's phone confirming my worst fears. His mistress, the woman singing my songs on the radio, was pregnant with the baby he'd always told me I was too weak to carry. The nightmare deepened when I learned the identity of the man from the hotel. He was Carter Mcclain, the ruthless Alpha King-and my husband's older brother. He looked at me with eyes that knew my secret, his cruel smirk promising that my life was now a game for his amusement. Jaden had stolen my music, my dream of a family, and my future, leaving me trapped between his betrayal and his terrifying brother. He thought he had broken me, leaving me with nothing. He forgot he left me with the rage that wrote the songs. And I was about to write their final, brutal verse.
Kathryn was the true daughter, but Jolene stole her life and set her up for ruin. After a brutal kidnapping scheme, Kathryn's loyalty to her brothers and fiancé was met with cruel betrayal. Narrowly escaping, she chose to cut all ties and never forgive them. Then she shocked the world: the miracle doctor for the elite, a top-tier hacker, a financial mastermind, and now the untouchable star her family could only watch from afar. Her brothers begged, her parents pleaded, her ex wanted her back-Kathryn exposed them all. The world gasped as the richest man confessed his love for her.
I was sitting in the Presidential Suite of The Pierre, wearing a Vera Wang gown worth more than most people earn in a decade. It was supposed to be the wedding of the century, the final move to merge two of Manhattan's most powerful empires. Then my phone buzzed. It was an Instagram Story from my fiancé, Jameson. He was at Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris with a caption that read: "Fuck the chains. Chasing freedom." He hadn't just gotten cold feet; he had abandoned me at the altar to run across the world. My father didn't come in to comfort me. He burst through the door roaring about a lost acquisition deal, telling me the Holland Group would strip our family for parts if the ceremony didn't happen by noon. My stepmother wailed about us becoming the laughingstock of the Upper East Side. The Holland PR director even suggested I fake a "panic attack" to make myself look weak and sympathetic to save their stock price. Then Jameson’s sleazy cousin, Pierce, walked in with a lopsided grin, offering to "step in" and marry me just to get his hands on my assets. I looked at them and realized I wasn't a daughter or a bride to anyone in that room. I was a failed asset, a bouncing check, a girl whose own father told her to go to Paris and "beg" the man who had just publicly humiliated her. The girl who wanted to be loved died in that mirror. I realized that if I was going to be sold to save a merger, I was going to sell myself to the one who actually controlled the money. I marched past my parents and walked straight into the VIP holding room. I looked the most powerful man in the room—Jameson’s cold, ruthless uncle, Fletcher Holland—dead in the eye and threw the iPad on the table. "Jameson is gone," I said, my voice as hard as stone. "Marry me instead."
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