Book Delicate Novels & Stories

"Don't be in such a rush, Ms. Landon. Before that, I have something that I want you to see." Jessica looked doubtfully at Grace, and for some reason, her heart skipped a beat. A sense of uneasiness rose up in her, and she looked guardedly at Grace. "What do you want to show me?" Grace slowly took out a sketchbook from her pocket. "It isn't anything much. Just a sketchbook." Jessica looked at the sketchbook, but she didn't seem to recognize it at all. She asked perplexedly, "What is this?"

he said flicking his wrist like he was throwing a ball "Do you have a doctors note" she asked crossing her arms not buying his lie at all "No my dog had ate it" he said "Start writing" she said shaking her head Next Cam raised his hand and I rolled my eyes with Miss Sanchez here we go I thought to myself "Writing is against my religion" Cam said making the class laugh including Miss Sanchez "What religion is that" she asked and Cam who got quiet trying to think of a name "you two bobos better write your notes and I'm going to be double checking yours" she said looking at Cam and Dashawn

But seeing it tonight, it was livelier than what the book made me see. Fantasians are all-over the place. Fooleys, sweeps, baylans, glacias, flamias, and other creatures I can't name yet are busy walking and buying stuffs in the side alleys. "This is amazing," I whispered with pure amusement. "You want to eat something?" Cool asked after slightly tightening his hold on my hand to get my attention. "Hmmm," I answered absentmindedly, still in awe in everything I see. "How 'bout Haba?" my forehead crease upon hearing an unfamiliar word.

Without a word, he held it out to me. My brows furrowed. “What’s this?” “Open it,” he said simply. I hesitated for a moment before untying the ribbon. When I lifted the lid, my breath caught in my throat. Inside was a gown—sleek, elegant, and impossibly beautiful. Midnight-blue silk that shimmered like liquid glass under the light. It was soft and cool beneath my fingers, almost too perfect to touch. “Andrew…” I whispered, unable to hide the awe in my voice. “It’s—”

Each small movement bruised their leaves and coaxed more bitterness into the air. And beneath even that lived something quieter. Sweet as a siren’s song, and twice as deadly as the silver root tucked between each dose. The tea. Belinda’s special brew. Her eyes flashed to the fresh batch set and ready, the service arranged with meticulous care, as always, steam curling high into the air—yet the cup remained untouched. Waiting in poised finery. Like everything in this room waited now. It was all one long, tightening game of waiting. Waiting for what was soon to be an end.

"Smile." ------------ The ballroom was completely huge and stunning, to say the least. She had never seen anything like that before. Colourful decorations were hung on every spot with no wall, leaving minimal space with no decorations. The lighting wasn't too bright to the point that it burned peoples eyes or too low that they couldn't see a thing. It was perfect enough to set a dancing mode, and it felt very romantic; Harlow could help but be reminded of the moonlight night. Men were in their suits, and women in their chic dresses wandered around excitedly with huge grins contorting their bright faces. Everyone just looked too dazzling.

talking about the quiet half lie in between those words. The plan they had with Andrea giving the bracelet to Dylan with its significant importance to Sky, as Dylan secretly placed it unnoticed and perfectly to swoon their plan and proceed to the next scheme. Clay’s doubts are purely out of a desperate hunch. For if anything is staged from that night, then, that is him sleeping with Sky and vice versa. He is not drug by them, but somehow in secrecy only forced to take a scented aphrodisiac and two amidst their knowing.

Crystal muttered, smiling as she was led by Angelica to sit by the nearby desk, a few steps after passing the 3rd row of shelves. Angelica placed the book down with a thud before holding the hardbound cover of the said book and flipped it open, the contents revealing printed images with words citated beside or under the photos. The pages itself seemed to be slowly darkening due to oxidation and time. The pages were fragile as if they will be torn just by a mere mistake of flipping them in an unruly way, which explains Angelica’s delicate actions.

I wasn't sure whose I wanted more. "Excellent choice. Those guys are legendary." She was trying to make small talk but talking wasn't my thing. Sorry. "Here, one of Walt's best art work." She handed me a book. "Song of myself." I read the title out loud while checking out the book. "Or do you prefer Leaves of grass? That one is quite nice but I prefer this one." She said. The lady was a strawberry blonde with brown eyes. She had a round baby like face and slim lips. She was pretty and looked within her early twenties.

The kind that demonstrated full knowledge of the person being celebrated rather than a general understanding of what birthdays were supposed to look like. There were yellow flowers on the kitchen table. Not peonies. The small bright ones she had pointed at in the florist window two months ago and said those are happy flowers, which Elena had confirmed was an accurate characterization and which Kael had noted and remembered. There was a book on the table beside the flowers. Old cloth-covered with illustrations in faded ink. A companion volume to the folk story collection from the Singapore bookshop, which he had sourced through the shop's international ordering system with the thoroughness he