Adrift Book Paul Griffin Romane & Geschichten

Some were dealing with or preparing for the unexpected loss of a loved one, and others were searching for their destined route on a road map previously unwritten. In the end, they all came out of it. While not unscathed–still forever and ever grateful for the lessons learned; Finding themselves, and one another. Hollis Bogard and Whitney York, along with everyone connected to them, turned out to be the ultimate proof of the famously beautiful statement “not all who wander are lost.”

The lake in front of me felt so peaceful I wish I deserved the same peace My feet started moving towards the water It felt like the lake was calling for me Asking me to touch and feel it's serenity As me body entered the cold water my disturbed mind calmed down It's coldness made me numb Anf it felt good Like I was finally getting punished for what I did to her I stepped further Slowly I felt my face going underwater There was a heaviness under the water My eyes body all felt heavy I looked around to see long plants and mosses in the deep Blue colour prevailed around me and I wished to stay here I couldn't hold my breath any longer and my lungs were ready to explode but still I wanted to be

When Griffin saw his face, his body trembled as he struggled to say, "S-Sir… A-Am I dead?" "What do you think?" Adrian asked with a smile. Griffin looked at his surroundings. "I'm alive? I-I'm alive?" Adrian grabbed his hand. "You're alive, Griffin. You're not dead." "You're really here?" Griffin smiled through his pain, his eyes welling up with tears. "I'm the only one left. Everyone else is dead… My brothers were stranded." Adrian took a deep breath. "I want you to try and not think too much, Griffin. I need you to stay alive and well. In the meantime, I'm going to avenge our fallen brothers."

“Well, my shift’s over so I thought to come out here to rest awhile, before heading home. I presume you’re out here for a different reason.” “Yeah….” A long exhale escaped my lungs. “Felt a little lonely.” Adrian nodded slowly. “I think I might have just the thing to fix that.” He deeped his hand into his coat pocket and pulled out a book. “I read this whenever I’m sad, overwhelmed or probably just need to keep myself busy, and right now all you need is to keep yourself busy with this.” I took the book from his hand. The title was written in red block letters.

A book fell from a bookshelf before the shelves’ bottom support succumbed and books cascaded down into a pile. In the living room, another narrow crack snaked across the ceiling. The ceiling creaked, its cracks spreading, until it came apart. Several cardboard boxes from the attic crashed down into the living room floor. The boxes split apart and photographs poured across the carpet. V One minute, Jake Grant drove over the River Bridge. The next, water submerged everything and his car became a water-filled steel prison. He sucked in his next breath almost without thinking. The heavy dose of oxygen sustained him as he instinctively fought his way out. He pushed and kicked against the force th

One night Adrian was reading the last journal, the one Grace had written in the weeks before her death, and he stopped suddenly. "What's wrong?" I asked. "There's something here," Adrian said. "In the binding, I felt something." He carefully pulled at the leather and I heard a tearing sound, and then he reached into a hidden compartment inside the journal's cover. He pulled out a letter. "What is it?" I asked. Adrian unfolded it and started reading, and I saw his face go pale. "Adrian?" I said. "It's from Grace," he said. "To me." "Read it," I said.

The sky above the City of Forgotten Authors split open. Black pages began falling like snow. Wherever they touched the ground... roads disappeared. Buildings crumbled into blank paper. Entire streets were erased from existence. The dark Adrian extended one hand. "Come." "You've spent your whole life searching for the truth." "So have I." "It's time..." "...for us to become one again." The White Book suddenly turned to its final page. For the first time... there were no words. Only a single question. WHICH ADRIAN IS THE REAL AUTHOR?

Conri affirmed , a serious expression glued to him harder than expected. Speechless, I looked at the book in front of me, never in my life have I felt so left out and drawn in at the same time. It felt like I was drawing so deep into an ocean, an ocean wide enough to swallow me whole and grasp the last breath left in me. The words written on the book stared right at me. "The Chronicles Of The Fridolf pack" I muttered reading through the words as my fingers rubbed through the body written words on it. "Alright, I will go through it and see what becomes of my knowledge, I just hope that I get the best from this" I said pointing at the book.

Private Jet – En Route to Geneva – 5:19 AM Griffin slept fitfully across two seats, his body finally surrendering to exhaustion after thirty-six hours of continuous alertness. I'd draped my cashmere wrap over him, tucking it around his shoulders the way I used to when he was small. Even in sleep, his brow remained furrowed, as if his mind couldn't escape the labyrinth of revelations we'd uncovered in Iceland.

There is still a lot to discover for Lyka and so, don't miss out on book two which I will perhaps be dropping next year. Social media accounts: Watpadd: swordofwhisper Dreame: sword of whisper Goodnovel: Marjo Ryna You can also message me at marjorhinah442@gmail.com for any inquiries. Thank you.