Book In Grass Novels & Stories

Teacher Kira said. “What do you mean about your ‘will’ lingering in this book?” Smiling, she spread her arms, and the void, inexplicable space we stood silently on, began to take shape. Firstly, I noticed, underneath our feet, some green, healthy grass blades began to spread about us. The sky began to take form, and raising my head, I could spot a few overhead birds, and several dozens of aerial spirit beasts. A grand building stood before us which was so majestic that I could keel over by just its grandeur. Catching full grasps over what this was, I began to choke of words.

The ones that had survived every version of him and every place he'd lived. Her finger stopped on a dark green spine, the gold lettering almost entirely rubbed away. She tilted it toward her. Walt Whitman. *Leaves of Grass.* The most worn book on the shelf — the cover soft with handling, the corners rounded, the spine held together by old glue and what appeared to be sheer stubbornness. She pulled it out carefully and it fell open in her hands the way books fall open to the pages they've visited most, the paper remembering where it's been taken before.

Amora The grass lookedsoft when I knelt down, but in actuality, it’s prickly as fuck against my bare legs. On the bright side, if I focus on the sandpaper-like roughness beneath me, I can somewhat ignore the way the rest of me feels right now.

Sometimes, I wonder if she’s the one I am feeling in this room. I don’t believe in ghosts or that shit. I grab a blue hardcover, with the name, ‘Herbs for healing sleeping sickness’. I flip the pages, leaning on the bookshelves, as the pages flip, a paper falls out. I grip it, the paper is nearly old, the edges almost torn off. The writing is legible.

The book she’d left on the counter, Dreams in the Soil, had opened itself overnight, pages fluttering as if sighing. Her phone flickered violently, notifications scrolling in reversed letters or garbled symbols she couldn’t read. In the background, a muted news report murmured about “unexplained plant growth” near subway grates and abandoned rail lines, the anchors’ voices flat, almost hesitant, as though reluctant to say what they had seen. When Jules arrived, the air in the bookstore was different. Wetter, richer — not mold or rot, but the raw, earthy scent of fresh soil, of something that had broken through the surface to reach for the light.

Quill answered. Without replying to him, Howard was staring at the willow tree that was standing by the river as it was bending down to it. The tree looked so weak like it would break if the wind hit it when the truth is they never bend! Except for its sorrowful state, it's strong enough to defeat the wind.

She knocked out Ada beside her. I gasped as I approached them. "Anna, did you find something?" Dr. Helena brushed off the dirt and looked at me. "What is illusion grass?" Holly was still puzzled. "Illusion grass is a green plant that emits pleasant sounds, containing illusion essence, which can affect the body's hearing and thinking, making people obey the grass's commands and ultimately becoming its slaves." "It can unearth the deepest desires in people's hearts. Those enchanted by its sound will be trapped in illusions until consumed by it. In other words, those white ashes are actually the remains of werewolves devoured by illusion grass."

When he felt alive again, Blake was lying on the grass with his eyes shut. He could feel the bright light from the sun penetrating through his eye lids like two red hot patches covering his eyes. He opened them slowly and covered his face with the back of his hand. Sat up and behold. He was in the middle of a grassland, from afar he could see a house, smoke coming from its chimney. To have a clear view he got up on his feet. There was nothing familiar about that place in the middle of nowhere, no neighbors just cows and chicken, dogs and horses grazing.

Thirteen hunches beside me, clenching her ribs as she sniffles. "Hey," I whisper to her. "Look at the grass." She shakes her head. "I don't care for grass." "You haven't seen grass like this." At the Unfortunate camp, the grass is a pale green and only exists in random patches of spiky blades. Out here, it's a vast wonderland of beautiful, soft greenery. "If you just look up a little, you'll see—"

"This is a happy ending without the ending. Because the two of us, our story, it doesn't end here." The book in her lap was still, pages gently waving in the wind as the cool air hit. The smell of freshly cut grass and different scents of flowers wafted to her nose, as well as the stew that was being cooked inside. Their garden looked more beautiful than ever, with the mix of blue from the sky as well as the pool, and the gentle yellow from the setting sun.