Book Hood Novels & Stories

If only it worked that way. As my consciousness faded, my soul felt yanked back—to that Halloween night that changed everything. Lights strung like jack-o'-lanterns, crowds surging like a river. I was gripping my little brother Matthew Duncan's hand—warm and soft—terrified that if I let go for even a second, the tide of people would swallow him up. But in the blink of an eye, a puppet-maker's stall caught his eye. He pointed at a fierce general figurine, bouncing with excitement. "Eli! I want that one! The general!"

The ID showed my photo, but there was an additional codename under my name. "We deal with digital threats the public never sees. We are the swords responsible for cutting away the darkness the law cannot reach. Sinead Hill's life has already ended. She is free now. She will become a legend and inspire more women to be brave." He looked into my eyes, his gaze sharp. "Now, welcome to Camelot. Your talent should not be wasted on small targets. Welcome to the real Hunting Ground." I looked at the codename on the ID, then looked up at the world outside the window.

Every kindergarten had refused to accept him because of his violent tendencies. On the television, the news was reporting that a woman named Maisie Gray had won ten million dollars in the lottery. At that moment, Zoe suddenly went mad. She grabbed the knife in her hand and stabbed both Lucas and Edwin to death before stabbing herself. When the news reached me, I was drinking coffee in the villa I had just bought overseas. My father was fishing, my mother was tending to her flowers, and my brother was studying in Horvar. I still had a beautiful, happy life ahead of me.

Books by John Grisham, Sidney Sheldon, Colleen Hoover, James Patterson and Ted Dekker. Jamaal Amir Haidar reads novels, crime most especially. I'm even shocked to see he reads Colleen Hoover's books too. I picked one of the books and began to smell the fresh scent of newly printed books. The door opened suddenly, Jamaal stepped in with little Ahmad in his arms. The little boy had his hands wrapped around his brother's neck. I stared at Jamaal in shock, seeing Jamaal holding his younger brother, trying to lure him to sleep shocked me.

In the midst of The turmoil, a sense of unity and purpose emerged, guiding us forward into the unknown with a glimmer of hope lighting our path. The tension in the air was noticeable as I guided the Hoodlums to the entrance into the hoodlums' lair, our footsteps echoing ominously in the dimly lit room. The hoodlums, caught off guard by our sudden appearance, turned towards the door with a mix of shock and surprise etched on their faces. The element of surprise was on our side as we strode into the room with determined gazes, a silent challenge hanging in the air.

My voice is barely audible as I take another deep breath. A knock on the door snaps me out of my thoughts and I quickly jump up, "Come in." Hestia opens the door with a smile on her face and a plate full of cookies, "Wanna try some oatmeal chocolate cookies?" I raise an eyebrow, "Oatmeal chocolate?" She nods, "I don't like raisins so I replaced it with chocolate chips, want one?" I take one hesitantly as I, too, do not like raisins. I smell it and the sweet scent lifts my spirits, the first bite exploding with flavor.

Room 207. Simple. Don’t talk. Don’t attract attention. Don’t get involved. Her fingers were already trembling when she reached the metal handle of her locker. She hated that. She’d told herself she was fine. But her body never listened. She’d only just started twisting the lock when the hallway went quieter. Not silent. Just… shifted. Like the room tilted slightly in one direction. People moved aside, whispers rising like fog. That’s when she saw him. Tall. Hoodie up. Black jeans. Heavy boots. Eyes like he didn’t care about the world and the world didn’t care about him.

“You help me, I keep you out of prison. You’re not here to ask questions.” Emily stood her ground, crossing her arms. “I know you, Hound. I will not serve as an accessory to your murders or whatever you have planned.” Hound sighed, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips. Slowly, he began to strip off his shirt, revealing the intricate runes etched across his body in deep blue ink. The sight was both mesmerizing and harrowing. “I watched my mother die, overworked as a slave,” he began, his voice trembling. “I should have pushed her off the building… It would’ve been the greatest mercy I could’ve offered her.”

I immediately cover my mouth. Mr. Hoodie arch his brow first then furrow his brows in confusion. He's still did not notice that his hood was off his face. All this time I am talking to God's ultimate masterpiece?! He still can't figure out why am I staring at him like an idiot so I shakily pointed at his hoodie. He touch his head and realized what I am saying. I can't take my eyes off his face. His bluish-grey eyes partnered with that breathtaking face is so lethal. Black glossy thick hair, aristocratic nose, prominent jaw and cheek bones. Pink pouty lips.

I clutched my books tightly against my chest, my pace quickening as I hurried along, only to halt when I caught a glimpse of something—or someone—moving in the corner of my eye. I exhaled sharply, my gaze darting around the shadowy corners, but found nothing. Still, an instinct screamed for me to run, and just as I was about to obey, someone leapt down from one of the pillars in the large hall. I gasped, my books tumbling to the ground as I staggered back. "The bitch is finally here, just like we expected," a girl in a hoodie sneered. My heart sank as she pulled the hood down, revealing her face.