Novel-novel oleh Vera’s Adventure

The day dawned golden and calm, the kind of morning that made Harlem feel like the warm center of the universe. The Story House stood tall and quiet in the early light, its windows reflecting the promise of something new. Inside, the air shimmered with anticipation. There were no official events scheduled, no guests expected—but something was coming. Skye could feel it. She sat at the back table, tracing her fingers over the ribbon binding a letter she hadn’t yet opened. It had come in anonymously, like the others. But something about this one felt different. Her name was on the envelope in perfect block letters: “To Skye. For what you gave me without knowing.” River entered the room, carrying a tray with two mugs of tea and a freshly baked scone from the café next door. His smile was soft, tired in a way that only love and sleepless nights could explain. “You haven’t opened it yet?” he asked, nodding to the letter. “Not yet,” Skye said. “I’m scared it’ll change something.” He ki

The morning after the rain, Harlem buzzed with its usual rhythm, but inside The Story House, something had shifted. The air was quieter. Heavier. As if the very walls were holding their breath. Skye sat alone in her office, her fingers tracing the spine of a leather-bound journal that had been left anonymously in the drop box. It wasn’t a donation—she could tell. It was personal. Raw. She could feel the story pressing out from within its pages like steam from a kettle. The note taped to the front simply read: “For the ones who never got to speak.” She opened it carefully. Inside were letters—dozens of them. Unsent, unaddressed, written in smudged ink and trembling handwriting. Some dated back five years. Others were recent. Some were addressed to mothers. Others to daughters. Lovers. Teachers. Abusers. To “the man who sat next to me on the train.” To “the father who never came back.” To “me, when I was fifteen.” Skye’s breath caught on the third letter. It was addressed: “To the

The rain came without warning. It wasn’t the kind of gentle drizzle that softened the world into poetry. It was heavy and relentless, like the sky itself had decided it couldn’t hold back anymore. The streets of Harlem shimmered under the downpour, pedestrians scattering beneath awnings, taxis honking louder than usual, and neon lights reflecting in kaleidoscopic puddles. Inside The Story House, it was warm, dry, and alive with quiet motion. Marla sat cross-legged on the floor of the reading room, surrounded by kids with crayons and open journals. River stood by the front desk, flipping through a delivery manifest, while Skye paced in the hallway near the sound studio, phone pressed tightly to her ear. Her voice was low, urgent. “No, that’s not what we agreed on. We said full funding for the mentorship program, not just pilot support.” Whoever was on the other end gave a long-winded excuse. Skye’s jaw tightened. “I understand the hesitation,” she said finally, “but this isn’t a do

The workshop room buzzed with quiet anticipation. It was Saturday morning, the first snowfall still fresh on the streets outside, and yet more than twenty young women had gathered in the warm light of The Story House’s creative wing. Skye stood at the front of the room, chalk in hand, heart pounding. “Let’s start with something simple,” she said, her voice steady. “I want you to write a letter to the girl you were five years ago.” Pens scratched against paper. Heads bowed. The silence wasn’t empty—it was rich with vulnerability. Skye walked slowly among them, glancing over shoulders with gentle respect. Some girls had tears in their eyes. Others clenched their jaws as they wrote. No one looked away. No one gave up. By the end of the hour, every piece of paper had something raw on it. Something real. And for the first time since The Story House opened, Skye read hers aloud. “To the girl who thought love only came with bruises, You were wrong. You’re about to meet people who love

The first snow came early that year. Skye woke to find the lake dusted in white, frost clinging to the bare branches outside the bedroom window. For a moment, it didn’t feel real—like the world had been paused, repainted in hushed tones. She slipped out of bed, careful not to wake River, and padded downstairs with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The Story House was quiet this weekend—no workshops, no events. Just stillness. Skye made coffee, then curled up on the couch with her journal. She stared at the fire crackling in the hearth and let herself breathe. This—quiet mornings, snow, peace—was a luxury she never used to trust. Sometimes she still didn’t. Because healing wasn’t linear. Some days still ached. Some nights still clawed at her ribs. But there were also days like this one, when everything inside her felt stitched together, not perfect—but whole. Marla padded into the room wearing fuzzy socks and holding a book. “Mom,” she said sleepily, “Can we read?” Skye n

The first time Skye heard the girl’s voice, it stopped her cold. She was walking past the recording studio in The Story House, arms full of books, when a low, trembling melody floated through the slightly ajar door. It wasn’t perfect—raw in places, uneven in others—but it had the kind of ache that made your soul tilt. Skye paused. Inside, a teenage girl sat hunched over a mic, headphones too big for her head. Her name was Cora. Fourteen. Foster system veteran. Newly placed with a grandmother she barely knew. She rarely spoke above a whisper. But now she was singing. When the track ended, the sound engineer gave her a quiet thumbs-up. Cora nodded, pulling the headphones off with shaking hands. Skye knocked gently and stepped inside. “You wrote that?” Cora blinked, startled. “I didn’t know anyone was listening.” “I wasn’t supposed to be,” Skye admitted, “but I’m really glad I was.” Cora looked down. “It’s stupid.” “It’s beautiful,” Skye corrected. Silence. Then Cora asked, “H

"Why don't you just give up?" Zelda prods, her evil smile making my stomach flip.I watch her silently as the rain continues to pour down on us, my hair and clothes drenched, sticking to my body like a second skin.And then I smile."Ok," I say, "I give up. You win."The perplexed expression painted on her face is priceless, her eyes wide, eyebrows scrunched."What?" she questions, unsure if she had misheard what I had just said."I give up. You wanted my magic, right? Well you can have it."She looks at me in bewilderment, still not sure what I was talking about.So I show her, my arms outstretched in her direction, my eyes closed.I start to chant and I can feel the magic rising through my body, passing through all my blood vessels until finally it stops in the palm of my hand.Zelda’s eyes fix on the orbs of gold hovering on my palms and her eyes go wide. She watched me cautiously."You are giving me your magic?" she asks, bemused, but her eyes were distracted by the power resting

It was evident this was a losing battle and as I looked around I could see Zac falter in his magic, his eyes tired and body weary. The rest of our wolves perished one by one and in the distance I caught sight of more hunters making their way towards the battle.I turned back to Zelda as she stepped over the fallen bodies of my pack with not even a flash of sympathy."What are you going to do now?" Zelda mouthed, her lips twisted into an insulting smirk, her words traveling through the air, until I could hear them crystal clear in my head.The sky rumbled, the clouds darkening until sheets of rain poured down, the ground turning wet and muddy, the blood of the dead mixing with the downpour forming bloody rivers in the wet soil.I found myself looking back into the distance at the oncoming enemies and then back at the rain falling so powerfully and without mercy and in my head some ancient words stirred, my tongue moving before I could even control it.Zelda watched with caution as I ra

Did I want to ruin Zelda? Did I want to rip her apart the same way she did to me without mercy? Did I want her to scream in pain as I take away the one thing she ever wanted?Yes.I nod my head back in reply to Aiden and his grim face nods back. We both know there is no other end to this story.Aiden does one last confidence building speech and offers the chance for those who have changed their mind to fight, but I watch with unwavering admiration as none accept the offer, all of them standing together, united with a promise to fight till the end.The moment is broken however when Jayden sprints through the forest line, his eyes cold.A part of me watches with bittersweet amusement as I think, he really does have a knack for interrupting at the worst of times.But as quick as the smile appeared on my face it disappeared when Jayden comes to stop in front of Aiden and I, his cheeks flushed from exertion, his eyes burning intensely."They are here" Is all he says and the chills that cra

I hear my mothers cry from the other side of the line and my legs buck from underneath me and line and my legs buck from underneath me and I crumble to the floor, the phone still held tightly against my ears.A heartbreakingly painful cry emits from within me as tears drown my face. My fingers tighten achingly around the phone."I just hope that in the next life I get the honour of being born as your biological child."My words continue to get stuck in my throat and I know the more I keep talking the less time we have before Zelda gets here so with my heart shattering to pieces I get ready to end the call."Mum, Dad, I love you and this isn't goodbye, this is just my way of saying until we get to meet again."I slam the phone back down, as tears fall from my eyes. I scream and slam my hand against the wooden table, the pain that numbs my hand nothing compared to the way my heart feels right now.The phone rings immediately and I know that it's my parents calling so I pull the extensio

I watched as a flood of emotions merged together on Aiden’s face until eventually pure hatred won, his features sharpening, his thick eyebrows furrowing, eyes darkening until they were just two onyx coloured orbs.His eyes stayed on me, watching my face carefully as if he was scared to look away in fear that I would just disappear.I felt like disappearing. I wished the ground would open up and devour me whole so that 1 didn't feel the constant pain in my soul.But it didn't.And Zelda was still coming with her army of rogues and hunters, to finally finish what she had started.She could have killed me when she had ripped my baby away from me, but she didn't, because to her all of this was a game. She was taking her time, taking everything that meant the most to me, one by one, like pieces on a chess board.And what for?Power?Glory?I scoffed at the thought. Ripping an unborn child from her mother is not power. Killing a defenseless woman does not give you glory.Zelda wanted power

The sky was dark and cloudy, signs of turbulent weather promised as we all stood around dressed in black. The funeral has just finished and now with Kates body six feet in the ground all signs of joy and happiness in the world seemed to have perished.I had cried and screamed as they had lowered her body into the hole, my heart shattered to pieces. There was nothing I could do, but it didn't stop me from banging on her coffin begging for her to come back. Jayden and a few others had to finally hold me back in order to bury her. I was no longer the same person as before, too much heartache and tragedy had made me a shell of the Alpha I had been previously.Kate had been my whole world for all my life, my number one priority being her until I met Aria. As children we loved each other but after the death of our parents and our lives as rogues, we became inseparable. We had built this pack up from the ground and now she had disappeared into the afterlife without even a goodbye.Jayden app