Book Blurred Lines Novels & Stories

Clang! The railing shook violently. It was bending and on the verge of breaking. Just as disaster loomed, my engine finally roared to life. I slammed the gas pedal, and the car dashed forward, breaking free from the crushing pressure. Upon seeing this, Gabriel’s face twisted with panic. He stomped the brake repeatedly before finally managing to stop his car. However, as his wheels screeched to a halt, he ran over a shard of broken glass that flew up and embedded itself deep in my thigh. I gritted my teeth as pain shot through me.

Cold shimmers off my skin in visible waves, distorting the lamplight. I step closer. Shouldn't. Do anyway. The jagged frame juts from the brick. Scratched into the raw aluminum, fresh metal curls still hanging off the grooves. Three lines crossing at one end. An arced arrow through the middle. Pressure builds behind my eyes. Not pain. Recognition without a source. Like reaching for a word in a language I spoke as a child and lost. A flash. Not an image. A texture. Old paper. Cramped handwriting. A page turning too fast. Gone before I can hold it.

Sharp jawline, green eyes that seemed to see too much, and an air of confidence that should have been annoying but somehow wasn't. "Actually, I was just leaving." Emma started gathering her things, but her laptop bag chose that moment to rebel. The zipper stuck, her notebook tumbled to the floor, and her pen rolled under the stranger's feet. He crouched down to retrieve her pen, and Emma caught sight of the title on her fallen notebook's cover: "Heat Between the Lines - Draft 3." Her heart stopped. That was her working title—the one she'd scribbled on the cover without thinking, the one that revealed exactly what kind of book she was struggling to write.

“Baby, I promise you, nothing touches you. I won’t let it. Not ever.” Blade’s gaze flicked back to the darkness. “It’s testing our nerves. It’s trying to see who will break first. Don’t let it.” A faint hiss, like metal scraping stone, cut through the air. The shadow shifted again, just at the edge of sight, almost taunting us with its invisibility. Cruz fired a warning shot, the bullet sparking off the wall. Blade lunged, knife slicing through the empty space where it had been, but it moved with impossible speed, slipping away, unseen.

Until I couldn't be sure what color they were anymore. Still brown. Still mine. Or were they? I touched my face. The scar on my lip. The one Lin had traced when we were children. It was still there, raised, smooth. But was the finger feeling it mine? "You're hyperventilating." The voice came from behind. I spun. Hand reaching for—what? I had no weapon. Just the notebook. Margaret. The blind woman from the park bench. Standing in the doorway, white cane tapping, sunglasses reflecting the fluorescent light back at me.

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(Harper’s POV) “I’m sorry, what now?” I stared at Harry, dumbfounded. He flicked through some more pages of the book and then turned it to face me. I apprehensively looked down at the book. The page was titled “Bloodline” and there was a picture of a wicked-looking blade down one side. The writing was a little faded and handwritten, but despite all that, it felt so familiar and I could read it, like it was something I had read a thousand times before.

He was standing again on the same broken ground, the air too still, the silence too loud. He looked down, already knowing what he would see. She was in his arms again, bloody, not moving. His hands were shaking, covered in her blood. It was the same dream that had haunted him for years. Nothing ever changed Except this time...it did. Her face was not blurry anymore. It was clear. Green eyes stared up at him. Her mouth parted just slightly like she was trying to speak. Her skin was pale, her hair stuck to her cheeks. Her face was tired, weak but it was her. It was Lydia

I still had a sliver of vision in my left eye, but this remaining sliver merely added to my misery. Picking up a pencil, I attempted to sketch something. However, every stroke was just painfully difficult with my blurred vision. Just then, a familiar voice sounded from outside the door. "Julia, are you okay? I heard you were hospitalized due to an injury." I froze in shock, and the shaky hand I had been sketching with halted, too. The voice was unmistakably Leah's. I jerked my head in the direction of the door. Despite my blurry vision, I could still make out that the person standing before me was Leah—but wasn't she supposed to be dead?

It was beautiful, but he was in too much of a daze to admire it. Algin forced himself up and looked at the organ between Igris’s legs. It had scales on it and they were sticking out. There was blood all over it, too. Looking between his legs that were bloody, then at the flowers which had specs of his blood on too. He lied back down and said, “I didn’t think it would hurt this much.” “Will you be okay?” Igris asked. He only realised later that he was literally scratching Algin’s walls.