A River Runs Through It Audiobook Novels & Stories

I turn and run away. I can't look at him. I can't think about this. I run so fast that I don't even feel the wind on my face. I can't hear anything but my own breathing. My heart is pounding. I run until I can't run anymore. I collapse and sit in the shallow water on the side of the river. I stare out at the water for a long time. I see fish swimming by. There is a bird flying overhead. But I hardly notice them. I don't care about them.

I still can't believe that my sweet husband has always been a monster, a beast waiting to be released. I suddenly started hearing sounds of a moving river and realized that I was close to one. I immediately got up and started running in the direction where the sound was coming from. I trotted for almost five minutes before I finally came across the river. Happily, I lowered my head to take a drink, feeling the replenishing essence of the water spreading throughout my body. While I was busy wallowing in the ecstasy of finally drinking some water, I heard galloping from a distance and it got closer and closer.

I pushed and pushed until my legs couldn't carry me anyone, by the time I slowed down everything hurt, and I finally stopped trying to take a breather. My ears heard the sound of a stream or a river. I couldn't differentiate but I didn't care. I was thirty, my throat and limbs were sore, so I followed the sound, and soon I was welcomed by a running river with clean water with white stones underneath. I hadn't seen anything like it before. It was beautiful, mother nature was beautiful.

The air smelled of dust and memory. She could still hear Rivers’s voice: You’d better start running. She started to run. As the echoes of her footsteps faded, a thought struck her sharp, bright, and alive, they thought Silas was dead. They had no idea how wrong they were.

Her grandmother’s journal was soaked, but the ink held strong, revealing a single cryptic line underlined three times: > "The river takes what the town buries." She knew what it meant now. The town had tried to drown its sins — drown her — but the river didn’t forget. And it didn’t forgive. The scar on Ava’s palm, where she had touched the water, was changing. It now shimmered faintly in the moonlight, pulsating like a second heartbeat. The whispering had returned, more distinct this time. Not just voices — names. > “Maris… Helena… Tomas…”

" Rain shrieked, fear evident in her voice as her small legs struggled to keep pace. River hated this for her daughter. She wanted to bring her home to peace, not to be on a run. Swallowing her despair, “Bad people, sweetheart. Just keep running!" She didn't dare elaborate. Not now. As they ran like their life depended on it– because well, it did, Rain stumbled, and River scooped her up like she was a piece of paper and continued their flight deeper into the woods. She’d die before she’d allow rogues get to her daughter. Rain was all she had in the entire world, and River would sure as hell do anything to protect her.

If only I could swim, I would cover the length of the river in the blink of an eye. I laid there undisturbed, enjoying the sound of the running waters, the cheerful melodies from the birds, and the chiming of insects. “Can I help you?” I thought I heard a feminine voice…or. Maybe I was hallucinating. My eyes remained shut. I didn't know how many hours I had slept by the side of the river. “Hello,” the voice rang in my ears again. It sounded firmer this time. Maybe I wasn't hallucinating after all.

Get the drive. My fingers stretch continuously and blindly through the freezing dark, searching, grasping at nothing but water and weeds. Every sound is a muffle. my heartbeat, the echo of Jerry shouting from the bridge, the people taking shelter after the gunshot and the throb of the sniper’s shot still ringing in my ears. I reach deeper, nails scraping over something hard. But the current surges, twisting my body sideways, and dragging me farther from the bridge. Water rush into my mouth, cold, bitter and metallic. Then hands grabs me. Strong hands. Human and warm compared to the river’s cruelty.

His thumb grazed it, soft as a whisper. I winced. Not from pain. “We need to move,” he said again, but he didn’t let go. The howls shifted, closer now, more organized. Crimson reinforcements, maybe. Or villagers turning on us after the scouts spilled blood in their streets. Genesis cursed under his breath. Grabbed my hand. “River. Now.” We ran along the bank, hand in hand, his grip anchoring me as my boots slipped on slick rocks. The water roared louder here, wider, faster. No bridge. No ford. Just churning black that looked like it could swallow us whole.