Arrows Fall Novelist Novels & Stories

His tone left no room for argument. My gaze shifted to the fiery-haired woman. I noticed Emberlyn's brief hesitation, a flicker of doubt crossing her face before she steeled herself with determination. Raising her crossbow, hands steady, she took a deep, hissing breath. Another sharp crack shattered the silence as Emberlyn released the silver arrow, its deadly aim aimed straight for Angelo's head. With a thud, Angelo fell to the ground, his body collapsing onto Nova's, his skin sizzling immediately from the silver arrowhead piercing.

Nick had questioned the skills of a senior forensic pathologist who'd taught him all that he knew. He suddenly began to blush from embarrassment. Subsequently, he awkwardly lowered his head and refused to utter another word. I was staring at Mia with a strong gaze now. Upon noticing this, David reached forward to shield her from me. "It couldn't have been Mia. She'd always been hardworking and responsible. You're the one who's careless and constantly makes mistakes. Do you know how often Mia has to clean up your messes?" he argued. I found his statements laughable. Was he even aware of what he was saying?

Arash asked Zaya in return. "Do you know about the author of this novel?" Zaya asked again. "Oh ...!" Arash clapped his hands and walked back towards the table where Zaya was sitting, smiling proudly at her. "That's a romance novelist from Indonesia, as far as I remember ... each of her novels always uses a different flower photo, right?" Arash asked again.

The idea creeps in softly, insidiously. Maybe I was too controlled. Maybe I mistook distance for strength. Maybe I don’t inspire passion. The thought is more devastating than any headline. Because it doesn’t feel like an attack. It feels like a possibility. That night, Arrow stands alone in his penthouse, lights off, the city burning bright beyond the windows. He watches the same hashtags rise and fall, each one a verdict he can’t appeal. He tries calling Celeste. It goes to voicemail. He drafts a message, deletes it, drafts another.

"The 'Writer'... is he still watching?" "Let him watch," I said, walking over to him. "He's just the 'Reader' now. We’re the ones with the pen." But as I hugged him, I felt a sharp, cold prick in my neck. I pulled away, gasping. Aris was standing behind me, a small, silver needle in his hand. He wasn't crying anymore. His face was a mask of cold, scientific fanaticism. "You're right, Elara," Aris whispered. "The 'Writer' is just a reader. But every story needs a **Tragedy** to be remembered."

Normally, people, can't see them Depending, on what is used for the color can changes. The arrow is painless and always hits its target once the arrow hits the target the arrow melts into the body. There only a few people that have this power and Zeze knew where it came from. Zeze could have easily stopped the arrow, but his anger got the best of him when Novella taking bad about god. He didn't stop the arrow he knew the type of arrow it was just by looking at it. Talking to Novella wasn't getting anywhere he stood up and said'' You're going to regret this'' Zeke

As she walked off. Rai looked at his suit, realised that the woman had done more harm than good, he scoffed, then he picked up his papers. When he bent down to pick it up, he looked at the woman as she walked toward the coffee stand. There was a glimmer of affection in his eyes but was quickly change when he saw his coffee sprewed all over the floor. "Just great" Rai said as he walked off. He went straight to the wash room to try and get the stain off his suit.

I yelled, pulling back from fire as Alessandro took out another one of his gun, taking my place in shooting those Italian fuckers whose numbers were increasing by the second like zombies. “Fuck you, Suka!” Bitch. I immediately took to my heels, dodging the flying bullets from the Italians as I rushed towards Ava, who had no idea what was going on. If anything, she was lost in trance and pale like a ghost. “Get down, Ballerina!” I barked, entwining our bodies as we both went down to the floor, hiding between tables and chairs as the Italian fucker who was assigned to end my wife’s life, opened fire.