Blind Corner Lazy Susan Novels & Stories

Gerald could not help but sigh to himself. When he saw the jug of juice on the table, Gerald wanted to pick it up to pour himself a cup of juice. However, before he could pick up the jug, someone turned the Lazy Susan around and moved the jug of juice away from him. Since there was now a pot of tea in front of him, Gerald decided to drink some tea instead. However, before he could pick up the pot of tea, someone turned the Lazy Susan again. Who was it? Gerald was startled and raised his head to look around, only to notice that Whitney had one hand placed on the Lazy Susan. She was also glaring at him.

Caroline, a she-wolf who has been considered a monster since she was a child, can she break the tragedy spell and find her MATE?

"Who the fuck are you guys? What the fuck do you think you're doing? Let me out this instant. Oh, man, I'm gonna ruin your face the moment I'm free." "But you are not." Speaks the familiar tone of the twins. It is odd twin with the blind sight. Again, his tone remains unfazed, disinterested, and dry. His grey spiky hair float above his head as he waltz close to a long table. I think I'm in a dining space, and the room is painfully dark. My sight has trouble accommodating.

I need to wisen up. ******************************************

TATE I’D DRUNK TOO much. That was the first thing that crawled through the haze, sluggish and stupid—but the second I blinked, I didn’t see party light or a bedroom ceiling. I didn’t see anything, and a different panic shoved in. Not the hangover kind. Not the regret-the-shots kind. The something’s-fucking-wrong kind. It was dark. Too dark. Not blurry, not dim. Just black. I blinked again. Harder. Still nothing.

BLADE 3. Pain. It was all I felt when I shot my eyes opened. I felt so sore and tired. The memories of how Lorenzo plunged deeper into me last night filled my mind. He was so cruel to me. I didn't find any enjoyment in it at all. I tried lifting my hands and I was happy It was back to functioning. My tit hurts too as a result of the sucking he did last night.

Like it was 2003. Cutting the last box open and restocking the shelf of cereals, I wiped my hands on my jeans, shoved the cutter into the back pocket of my apron, and walked toward the front of the store. Susie was at the counter, chewing on a pen cap while watching the tiny TV above the register. The volume of the TV was really low so I barely heard what she was looking at and nor was I really interested to be honest. My boots squeaked against the linoleum as I came up behind her, and I was just about to say bye when my eyes caught a flurry of movement and the text "ARCTIC BLADES." on the TV.

“May the Goddess watch over you, good reverend.” Smiling, Zen waved goodbye to the accommodating gatekeeper. “We’ll find your key. I promise,” he waved and left with Charlie leading the way. The labyrinth was as dark as the gatekeeper had informed them. Truthfully, Zen did not really need the Watcher’s Lamp. If they had Armoured Slime Boss Eyes, Zen could easily craft an accessory that negates all blindness effects and detects infrared light, providing the user with permanent night vision. Liu Feng would gladly loan his accessory to Zen if he requested it. However, Party Freedom did not seem to be interested in farming. They were rushing to push Damian and Zen to the new stage, and it was qu

They watched me through the shower glass. I soaped slow. Blind. Exposed. I bent for the soap. And saw it in the drain. Half a contact lens. Blue. Not mine. Not my sister's—hers are brown. Someone else showered here. I stood. Wrapped the towel. Fumbled the tuck. Blind people can't see mirrors. "Your phone," the robot voice said. I reached out. "Where?" "Counter. Left." Wet phone. Cracked screen. I turned on VoiceOver—Siri reading fast, gibberish to them, clear to me.

I was trying to catch any sign of a pulse under her swan’s neck when I realised that Sir Gerard Seymour Hornby was staring at me. “May we go through,” he asked gesturing at the door to the living room. “Of course,” I said. His companion turned her head slowly in my direction. Her lips formed a timid and trembling smile. Her eyes groped the void, pupils white as marble. I gulped. She was blind. I followed them, unable to take my eyes off the woman with the china doll’s complexion and white eyes, the saddest eyes I had ever seen. “Please take a seat,” I said, trying to disguise the nervousness in my voice. Arsenal had just scored, but that seemed quite insignificant now, so I picked up the