A Separate Peace Novels & Stories

Isaac felt like he was getting looked down upon by someone so basic, and she even managed to interfere with his life without much effort. “Achoo!!” Peace sneezed onto the paper when she was standing by the bookshelves, “Are you alright?” Mark came running towards her with a tissue. “Hm— yes I am okay, you can leave now.” She said as she waved her hand at MArk. “Okay, you can call for me when you need anything,” Mark said and left her alone in the room. Peace rubbed her itchy nose and muttered, “I wonder who is planning against me behind my back,” Peace muttered to herself and looked back at the graph on the piece of paper.

LIZ P.O.V. I watched in disbelief as a special named Astrid flashed across our television. Her voice sounded odd, I could hear a slight hum in the video that really annoyed me. Focusing my attention on it I realized the hum wasn’t a hum. She was speaking. I had never seen or heard something like this before. If I didn’t focus on the hum I could hear her talking about how she wasn’t to blame for Barker Street. When I focused on the hum I heard her talking about a ‘specials airport’. I had never heard of a specials airport before either.

If we still couldn't take off, he would miss the best window for treatment. Since Brenda refused to shut the cabin door, I would do it myself. I yanked and tugged on the heavy door with all my strength, but I couldn't even make it budge. It was like an immovable mountain. My knuckles turned white from my efforts, and sweat trickled down my face. Meanwhile, Brenda stood aside and watched me like nothing was happening. She knew I wasn't moving that door at all. Just then, a figure appeared at the end of the jet bridge. It was Cameron. He was holding a burger and a coffee.

Peace offering. He would come to understand one thing... There was no peace with me. But still, I was curious. “Where?” “Warehouse by the docks. North side.” I flicked the cigarette into the gutter. “Got it. I’m coming.” ~~ The docks reeked of salt water and rusty containers, the kind of place where men disappeared and the sea kept its secrets. Vincent waited by the door of the warehouse, cigarette dangling from his lips. He straightened when he saw me.

"Yeah, Luke, go back. Don't look back. Things are well as they are now. You've taken wonderful care of Misty." "Actually, she has a nickname, Peace. "Peace, may peaceful days prevail. "Hazel, may you have peace every year from now on." Those intense waves of affection have endured through the passage of time, persisting until this very day. Now, should I hold resentment toward him? He shielded and protected our child, bearing the immense burden in silence. Yet, no one knew the extent of the pressure he faced to keep the child with us. Sadly, we drifted apart amidst a maze of misunderstandings, caught in an eternal cycle of misconceptions and attempts to clarify them.

My daughter, Lily, was hit and dragged for two whole miles by a drunk driver. I rushed her blood-drenched body into the emergency room. While the doctors saved her, I collapsed onto the floor in the hallway. With the last ounce of strength left in my body, I sent a text to my husband, Howard. [Lily is in critical condition. Get to the hospital now!] A few seconds later, my phone chimed with a reply. [Stay safe. I’ll be over as soon as I wrap things up here.]

But what surprises Vienna was the volume of the books, no offense but she thought Leopard was not the type of guy who likes to read books, other than maps and such. She somehow landed her eyes in a certain book lying on the table that caught her attention. Vienna took it and read the title, Where I truly Belong. She smirked at the book's title, it seems like even the book is confused about where it truly belongs, just like Vienna. She returned it above the table and walk near the window where the houses and the large scale of water surrounding the island shines as the morning setting sun appear, turning the seawater into gold. She has never been this peaceful ever since, and it gives her suc

Some people however had secrets that were not known to anybody which could easily be taken as suspicious. There was Jill the bookworm who spent most of her time at the library or at home with curtains shut. At least people thought it was her home and there was Wren the outcast who appeared to be living all alone in the junk-yard on the edge of Oaken Hills. This didn’t seem to be a good idea with such a powerful storm on its way.

was the reply, and with a look of surprise. "Yes; it is in two points offensive to me; I have two strong grounds of objection to it. First, as being the means of bringing persons of obscure birth into undue distinction, and raising men to honours which their fathers and grandfathers never dreamt of; and secondly, as it cuts up a man's youth and vigour most horribly; a sailor grows old sooner than any other man. I have observed it all my life. A man is in greater danger in the navy of being insulted by the rise of one whose father, his father might have disdained to speak to, and of becoming prematurely an object of disgust himself, than in any other line. One day last spring, in town, I was

Hailey*** The farmhouse had always been both a haven and a cage—a place far removed from the chaos that had consumed our lives. It was where I could pretend, even for a moment, that the world beyond its weathered walls didn’t exist. The isolation was a strange kind of comfort, one that held both solace and loneliness. The days passed quietly, the rhythm of the countryside punctuated only by the laughter of my children or the occasional rustle of wind through the trees.