Blown To Bits Book Novels & Stories

I slumped in the chair and stalked the movement of his hands with my half-mast gaze. "Destroying what should have been destroyed years ago." With those whispered words, he brought the dancing flame to the cover of the book. Flames licked around the edges, blackening the pages until they withered and became a pale white. The ashes trickled down like the beginning of snow on a blistering winter night. Snow. Such a pure element to think of under such circumstances. Snow resembled a blank slate, new beginnings. Maybe this could have been what this was if I had burned the damn book the moment it landed in my possession.

The ground shook as the book opened itself shaking off it's possessor with a strong wind The roof of the house creaked from the force of the wind She looked on amazed at the events unfolding before her the home she had for 10 years turned to chaos by the wind coming off from the book yet she could not stop looking at it ‘A..l..ice!!!!!' Her dad screamed.

A blast of cold air rushed up from below, smelling like wet stone, old blood, and something rotten beneath snow. The journal slid across the floor toward the opening. “No!” I lunged for it. Damien caught me tighter. “Leave it.” “No.” “That thing wants you closer.” “The book has been more honest than half the people in this town.” “It is not a person.” “Neither are half the people in this town.” The journal teetered on the edge. Pages fluttering. Glowing. Waiting. Then one page ripped free and flew upward on a burst of silver wind.

I hit Post and lean back, watching the world burn. Within seconds, the Internet goes into a total, apocalyptic meltdown. “He did what?” one of Ezekiel’s former defenders posts, their tone shifting from idolization to visceral disgust. “He asked his actual partner to bow down for a foster-brat?” The shift is instantaneous. The narrative that I was a clinging, desperate climber is shredded. The audio proves I wasn't the one holding on—I was the one pushed away. My comm-link vibrates incessantly. Ronan is standing by the door, his eyes dark, his nostrils flaring as he tracks the spike in my scent—the scent of cold, calculated victory.

AMELIA “I can’t believe it didn’t work,” I grunted in anger as I stabbed the sword into the book, and it did nothing. “It’s empty now, but a piece of useless old shit.” The book was around four inches thick. The hardcover seemed to be made of animal skin. The smell was like an old rotten dead rat. I was expecting suggestions, but everyone’s mouth was shut this time. “Really?” My eyes narrowed at them. “Now I need your unsolicited advice and you’ve got nothing. You, Theia. You’re very opinionated. What do you have in mind?”

I dropped the books on my bed and flipped one open. It was full of what I already knew: Those bitten by werewolves never survive the full transformation. The poison kills them. End of story. My chest tightened. That couldn’t be true. I was alive. I flipped through faster, scanning for anything new. But everything said the same thing. Death. Pain. Suffering. Nothing about healing or heightened senses. Frustration burned in my throat. I shut the book too hard. Then I saw it—something odd near the back. A few pages were stuck together. Glued, maybe. I frowned, prying at the edge until it came loose.

The dry grass crackled in the evening breeze. Pale green streaks at the base of the stems were all that showed it was alive, struggling against the heat of the summer sun and a rainless afternoon. Thunder rumbled in the distance, but the clouds refused to release their water. A large sign with a bear in a hat declaring the fire danger “extreme” glared out over the road. A car sped by, the taillights fading into the setting sun. A red glowing cigarette ember flicked out of the open window, landing on the dark asphalt. It rolled gently, swirling in odd circles until finally resting on the edge of the road. The parched breeze puffed, pushing the small glowing light into the grass. It only took

I rose my brows in confusion. “What do you mean?” I asked. “The book was found with you Raina but I know you did not take it that night. You did not destroy the library. Lucy did” She clarified. “How do you know?” I asked. “Lucian might deny that he does not know Lucy still practices magic but we both know it is obvious. I don't know why he does not acknowledge this but the library was destroyed but no wolf could do that much damage without leaving a print or at least blood behind. Only someone who could do it without being inside could have done it and Lucy is the only hybrid we have”

Started to melt, flowing up the Auditors arm like oil. CRACK. The white gold book broke in half. The pages did not fall. They turned into a cloud of dots that got sucked into my right eye and deleted. The Auditor stumbled back its coat falling apart the numbers on its fabric turning into nonsense. "The thing we were looking at... Is gone " the Auditor whispered, its line fading away. "The Bank... Says this place is a loss." With a sound the Auditor turned into a pile of harmless silver dust that covered the floor like frost.

I frowned and asked in a low voice, "Lucas… do you think they're right too?" The only answer I received was silence. So this was how Lucas truly saw me. We had suffered and struggled together to reach this point, yet in the end, he still believed the wildflowers by the roadside were fresher and sweeter. Suddenly, a violent force slammed into me. I crashed heavily onto the ground, my forehead striking the edge of the doorframe. Blood instantly poured down my face. Lucas instinctively moved toward me as if to help, but Lucy appeared frightened by the blood on my face and grabbed tightly onto his sleeve.