127 Hours The Book Novels & Stories

It is a language night terrors, as well as the ancients, speak. As I flip through the last pages of the book. I lose a little hope of finding anything of relevance after each page turn. At the final page of the book, I run my finger over each line and when I reach the end of the page I let out a breath of agitation. I just wasted four hours. I shut the book in a loud thud and lean back on my chair. "Zel," Klara says knocking slightly on my room door. "I will be out in just a minute." I run a hand down my face from mental exhaustion as I stand from my desk chair. This is going to drive me nuts the entire day.

That much was obvious. ‘A Hundred Years of Solitude.’ She was only halfway through the book. It was a heavy one, and she couldn’t understand why she read it before she came back. Night time was perfect for a reading session, so she was reading seriously. Heather was the most attractive when she was quiet, and she drifted to sleep with a book in her hands that night. If there was one downside about night reading, that would be the fact that the reader would fall asleep easily.

The knot in my right shoulder has been tightening for hours. I woke up with it. I sleep on it. It's the only proof I have that time is passing. Seventy-two hours in a bed that isn't mine, sheets reeking of cedar and nothing human. Seventy-two hours of delivery pad thai because I can't bring myself to open the Refrigerator stocked with food I didn't purchase. Seventy-two hours of Julian Croft evaporating into his empire and leaving me suspended in this room of glass and marble, a security detail tracking my bladder breaks, a phone that hasn't vibrated with a single text from him.

Exactly what I had spent hours repeating to myself. I pull the last book with the title Secrets of Time from the shelf. My hand gripped the book tighter as it was the same book Traian had in his home. I went through its pages. And after 30 minutes, I felt like I was reading the first book I picked in this room when I already read and browsed almost 15 books. My legs started to quiver and I sank to the ground, feeling as though my energy had left my body. The book dropped with a loud thud.

Remember to heat it up. He hadn't replied. Come to think of it, he couldn't remember the last time they'd truly spent any quality time together. Zane started to think back on his relationship with Clara. He'd met her when she was just starting her first novel, and he was a resident. Hailey had been her "assistant," though in reality, she mostly just fetched coffee and complained about deadlines. Clara could spend twelve hours straight at her desk, wrestling with a single chapter until it was perfect, her focus absolute. She saw writing as a craft, a discipline.

Like 271 days was boring. Like home was obvious. _Thump._ *3:00 PM. [SFX: CLOCK. THEN NONE. THEN SEVEN.]* Living room. Not fireplace. Not _COURT_ box. Burned 265 days ago. Just us. Seven. Me. Floor. February. Chest. Sleeping. 3 PM. On time. Adrian. Next to me. 59 BPM. Head on my shoulder. Alex. Other side. Book. Reading. To her. _The House That Was Just Home._ Page 1. “Once upon a time there was a house that was not a court…”

Millie says digging through her bag. “Alright,” I say looking back out the window and watching little ants of people walking around. An hour later Millie leaves for her first meeting looking like a sexy little businesswoman. I’m exhausted from the early morning flight so I turn off all the lights, close the shades of the windows, and tuck myself into the stiff bed. Normally I’d complain about a stiff mattress but it’s doing wonders for my tense back. I read another chapter of my sexy, filthy erotic novel and close my eyes to dreamland.

Chapter 11: Twelve Hours The encrypted phone screen glowed in the dark like a threat I couldn’t escape. Twelve hours. That was all the syndicate had given us before they would drop the edited video that would destroy Callan’s life and mine. My hands were still shaking as I set the phone down on the nightstand.

The grand Empress sighed a heavy breath and closed off the book. It had been a complete day since she was engrossed into the book and had finished only one life. The book was entitled as “7 days and 7 lives” which meant that there were still 6 pending for her to come across. She was already baffled and emotionally unstable at the moment witnessing all the Chaos that Trinity had been through all her life which had been engraved on the muffled pages of that heavenly book.

"I figured one glass wouldn't hurt." "Probably not," I say, sitting beside her. I crack open my book and start reading. The candlelight isn't very bright, and I have to focus hard on the lines of the pages, but I haven't read a book in months, and I've really missed it. I read until about nine thirty, when Ryder comes back out into the living room.