Avery Hawthorne Novels & Stories

There was something special to being a Hawthorne. The Hawthorne name was respected throughout the country because of this one reason, and that reason was that they were blessed by the goddess. Their silver hair, believed to bear semblance to the moon goddess, was what identified her as a Hawthorne and nothing more.

There was no other choice but to face the consequences of my own actions. I turned to look at my incoming doom. The man realized we had stopped and slowed down his quick pace. The stranger adjusted his long overcoat and smoothed down his ruffled hair. The man joked, “For a moment I thought you wouldn’t turn back.” “Well?” I questioned, raising my eyebrows. “Forgive me,” drawled the stranger. “I’m Soren Hawthorne, you might have heard of me?” “Your name doesn’t ring any bells.” Hawthorne laughed, “Perhaps that’s for the best. In the habit of making a good first impression, might I know your name and the name of the little lady beside you?”

Ava If you’ve never taken Advanced Literary Theory at Riverside, you should know it’s not a class so much as a legally sanctioned form of brain-melting. The prof, Dr. Harrison, was rumored to have survived a Lovecraft conference in Providence and come back with less soul than she started with. She had the affect of a haunted librarian and the wardrobe to match: always beige, always three sizes too big, like she was hiding a secret under there.

She ran her fingers along the spines, feeling calmer already. She settled herself into his desk chair, tucking her feet underneath herself. She figured grabbing a book might help her sleep or at least distract herself. It was then that she noticed a familiar leather book poking out from the center drawer. Silently, she slid the drawer open. It was the book her grandmother had given her weeks ago. A page was tabbed. Curious, she flipped to the page and her eyes widened in horror at the entry. Ava Brochade m. Smith, 1963-still living. Residence previously unknown. Whiteridge, house in Estates neighborhood. Over 100 known kills. (most of which were known to be unauthorized.)

Soon, it transcended the sounds of gunshots and screams to the scent of blood flying in the air and a swarm of dead bodies covering the sight of the prison block. At first, Ava had counted herself amongst the dead as she ran with them. But a sight at Esteban weirdly amongst the female inmates trying to find his way through, gave her some renewed hope. Hope that died almost immediately when Esteban shut the only exit door right in her face condemning her to a perishing fate with the others. How she was able to make it out still remained a mystery that haunted her. Why did he shut the door right in her face? She wondered, asking herself in Spanish as she looked around. “Why?” who was responsib

“Sometimes the bad things that happen in our lives, put us directly on the path to the best things that will ever happen to us”- Unknown Neville knew the ride was going to be a long one, he had planned for them to take a brief tour around the city. He wanted to give Aurora a brief glance of the entire city since she loves it, before they set out to experiencing it’s lifestyle. Aurora being kept in the dark, pondered on what Neville had planned for the rest of their day. Not wanting to have an awkward ride because she was already feeling unease, she started a conversation.

CHAPTER FIVE Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr! That was the alarm clock. Ava reached for it blindly and punched it off. She pulled the duvet past her stomach as she sat up and wiped her eyes sore. She walked into the toilet where she urinated, washed her face, and came out again. The alarm clock which was in the drawer close to her bed gave her a beautiful memory. The alarm clock was her twenty-sixth birthday gift. It reminded her of her mom’s elder sister; Aunt Caroline, her favorite relative. She remembered how she had left her home in Puerto Rico and traveled down just to see her after she had been admitted to the hospital. Aunt Caroline had never left her side until the last day she was discharged. They

Third person POV: After Ravan and his men’s left, police called an ambulance who cleared dead bodies and their butchered heads of the road and opened the road block, as soon as road was cleared aisha’s Taxi driver quickly made his way to ‘Hilton garden Inn Lucknow’ and dropped Aisha where she paid him 15K for his service. It was almost midnight when Aisha checked in, she immediately called her grandparents and lie to them about her arrival at camp, after having a short talk she quickly hung call to avoid lying more. Aisha was still in shock thinking about the murder that she had witnessed just few hours back, she felt tired and scared thinking about it and went straight to her bed ,pulling h

I missed the rolling grassland of Hollowbridge, sometimes, but as autumn settled itself across Hawthorn, I had to admit that it was beautiful here, too. I’d not been into town much, only once or twice during the summer, to get some new clothes and stationary with Ezrand, most of which I’d lost before school had even started. Falmer, however, frequented the diner on the edge of town, and the one bar that Hawthorn was home to. He’d always described it with a somewhat disparaging attitude, but it sounded wonderful to me: stretching avenues lined with wide trees, warm bulbs of light strung from building to building, a small, bustling community that frequented the same coffee shop, the same diner

“Do not think of it in such common terms, June,” he whispered, his voice smooth as silk but heavy as lead. “You are looking at this through the lens of human morality, but we are wolves. We are creatures of destiny and design.”He stepped even closer, his heat radiating through my thin, silver dress, a cruel contrast to the damp stone wall at my back.