23 Minutes In Hell Book Novels & Stories

Half of the new flavored tea pot of Mr Ashford was almost downed as memories upon memories flooded my mind. The taste was indeed good as he had said, suitable for soothing a deranged soul. But then, every sip of it crept memories into my mind. Memories that pierced holes in my chest. Whitehead. 100 years of living in the human world yet his name lived rent-free in my mind. I stood, staring at my reflection, at the deep scar that I left embedded in there to remind me of that cruel night the name of the kingdom of Delmoria was written in blood. Every bit of it refused to vanish.

My breath ceased as I watched the blood drop down on the writing. I hope I won't die. I hope they will… A gasp shot out from me, and a force snapped my head back, causing my eyes to roll up. I dropped down into a suffocating, dark vacuum and continued to drop down into the bottomless pit that I found myself in. “What are you doing here, Garam?” a loud, terrifying voice echoed in my head, and my skin heated up. My eyes were pulled open, and I found myself in hell, surrounded by three of the seven deadliest demons.

The fake in Hawthorn’s wishing well is nothing compared to this. “That’s it,” Damon murmurs. “Yeah.” My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. We’ve come so far. Is it really this close? Or am I staring at some kind of illusion? I speed up, taking the stairs two at a time. The group’s footsteps ring out behind me, but then there's a new noise. A scuffling. A bump. A yell. Elena screams, and there are shouts. I whirl around just in time to see Hank falling through the air, his arm outstretched.

I no longer pay attention to the people I meet and continue walking toward the library. I reached it and immediately went to the row where the book I got earlier about Scylla was. I didn't read it because Natalia came. I read a different book. I got it quickly, it was thick. I immediately went to the table to read. The myth of Scylla. That's the title of the book. I immediately opened it and looked at the table of contents. Geographical Position. I read it and saw that it was on the fortieth page. My hand quickly opened that page and I immediately read.

We didn’t stop running until our lungs burned and the horrifying presence finally faded behind us, leaving us breathless and terrified in the oppressive silence of the God-Eater’s Maw. The cold burrowed deeper, past bone, past the marrow, sinking its icy tendrils into the core of my being. The void wasn't just gnawing anymore; it was gulping, devouring chunks of me with each passing moment. Twenty-four hours. Justin's grim pronouncement echoed in the chilling silence of the Maw. One-third of my time was gone. One-third of me was gone.

They were exactly like the man's from my dream. His lips curled into a smile. Not the smile that made my cheeks go pink, no, not that one. This smile was cold, devour of warmth or humanity. This smile was like a living thing, speaking of many horrors. It continued to stretch across his face until his razor sharp fangs were exposed. No, it can't be. "Y…y…. You're a…." I chocked on the last word. He crouched to my level and grabbed my chin in a gentle hold.

All I wanted was for her to understand the way Jack perceived her. I also told her about Jack kneeling to beg for forgiveness, watching her face contort with anger and helplessness. Deep within, I wanted to laugh loudly at her. "What exactly are you getting at?" She confronted me. I sighed deeply, turned toward the window, and showed a bitter smile. "If I had more time, I wouldn't have let this slide. But unfortunately… I don't have time left." "No time left?" Rhea muttered She asked, "What do you mean? Weren't you here to hold me responsible?"

"Next Wednesday." I open the door. The cold rushes in. I step out onto the sidewalk. My boots feel unsteady under me. Or maybe I am just unsteady. My whole body feels different. Awake. Like something was asleep for twenty three years and is just now opening its eyes. "Goodnight, Nubia," he says through the open door. "Goodnight, Eli." I close the door. He waits until I am on the porch, until I have my keys out, until I unlock the front door and step inside. Then he starts the engine and drives away.

Because whoever tries to make a joke out of me is about to become the punchline. I turned and went into the storage room. The second I left, I heard them practically pouncing on each other. "Man, you’re living the dream. Getting served by two women at once? Only you, Luca." "Shut up. You’d do the same if you could." "Whatever, I’m out. My goddess is waiting for me at the hotel." I hurried away, the hem of my dress cutting through the air. The storage room was pitch black. I flicked on my phone light and headed for the sofa.

Or maybe I expected it to feel like more. Thirty years of one woman's understanding of how to survive something that had killed twelve people across four centuries, and it fit in one hand. "Three days," I said. "Three days," he said. "I have lived with that for twenty-two years." I looked at the book. At the worn leather and the soft edges and my grandmother's handwriting visible through the cover, spilling over onto the inside front page in the same cramped script as my father's, recognizable as family in the way handwriting sometimes is.