Book In Grass Novels & Stories

Some after revealing their roots they covered them back and some they but in a purse hanging around their waist. ‘Why are you guys digging up grass?’ ivory asked as she watched them doing their thing. ‘It’s isn’t just any grass, it’s snow grass’ Indigo replied. ‘Snow grass, what are those’ ivory asked looking around; Natasha shakes her head indicating she doesn’t know too. ‘It’s a type of grass which is used to make medicine and potion’ indigo replies ‘the older it gets the stronger its properties’. ‘Then why are you looking at their roots and covering them back’ Natasha asked.

I'd still get abused though, just not to a certain extent. As we got to the muddy area of the compound, I bent down and began to cut the grass. Tall, elephant grasses and a few shorter ones which were as stubborn as anything I could think of. I had to strike some of them about three to four times before I could level them. I swung my arms as much as I could, in a bid to finish up as quickly as I could.

' Cassie was just about to retort when a loud sneeze sounded out. 'Did I say it was so cold here? Come on, why do you really like fleeing around in December?' Javen had always been cold and indifferent when he spoke, so Cassie was already used to it. She walked forward and looked at the withered flowers and plants in the courtyard, and suddenly, she exclaimed in surprise, 'This is dragon grass!' 'What's that?' 'The dragon grass is a medicinal material that can strengthen your body after eating it.' Based on its name and her expression, Javen instantly understood. 'Alright, you've stayed outside for long enough. Follow me back now.' As soon as they arrived at the door of the ward, they heard

Rex asked, peering into Cassius’s opened palm, his face riddled with puzzlement. “This grass is to ease the symptoms of blood month for a woman,” Cassius said, lifting the grass up for Rex to see. “There is one downside to it though,” he said, trailing off as another snort of laughter prevented further words. “Well?” Rex asked, not being able to contain a smile at Cassius’s uncontained laugh. “If a male consumes the blood grass…” he said doing his best to stifle another laugh, “That person will experience an hour of the worst possible diarrhoea imaginable.”

It shimmers in the sunlight, as if it's made of plastic. "It's almost like a park," Alec says. "It is a park." I step forward and run my hands over the grass, which feels like a soft carpet under my skin. It's a beautiful place. We walk, and walk, and it's seeming like we'll never reach the edge of this grassland. But as we keep going, it changes. The grass gets shorter and shorter until it's just a little bit taller than my ankle. All kinds of flowers are on it, but they're small and wither quickly. I bend over to pick one up, and the stem snaps off in my hand.

Thanks to his excellent observation skills, Zen gathered a total of thirteen plant types from that meadow. The long grass did nothing, so Zen decided to try the dewy grass. The grass fibre felt sticky in his hand, and Zen didn’t know what sort of effect this grass had. It should be a medicinal grass, but Zen didn’t know anything about it. Heck, he wasn’t sure if real-world knowledge applied to this VR game! Liu Feng wasn’t back yet, and Zen braced himself to test this sticky dew grass. The fifth time has to be the charm!

Perhaps my source of power was something I could produce in large sustained amounts after all. I plucked a stalk of grass out of the ground. It was green and moist, the kind of healthy young shoot my flames couldn’t ignite. I placed it on my palm and worked up a flame. The grass didn’t seem to mind the flame flickering around it. The flame went out.

The paper-mulch in the cradle began to steam, the bronze heat of our old stories rising through the willow ribs to wrap around the stem like a protective sheath of light. From the center of the dark soil, a shoot erupted—not white like the data-vines of Sector One, and not gray like the soot-vines of the Deep Tiers. It was a rich, deep copper-green, its bark formed from layers of compressed text that had been stripped of their alignment, its leaves unfolding like small, blank scrolls that rustled in the wind with the sound of turning pages. "The Library," Mia whispered, waking from her shelter to run toward the ridge, her bare feet kicking up the white chalk dust of our boundary.

Each shelf was made of stone and paper and light, lined with books that had no titles on their spines, just faint scratches where letters were trying to form. My stomach flipped. “The Graveyard,” I whispered. “New draft.” The castle to our right groaned as one of the shelf‑towers punched through its outer wall, scattering stone. Neon signs cracked as stacks of books pushed up beneath them. The pier’s support shuddered when a column of bound pages thrust through the boards. The horizon rose higher. Ink rained more heavily over that section, soaking into the shelves, words ghosting along their edges before seeping in.

Alaric pointed to an altar far off where an open book glowed a brilliant turquoise blue. It was situated right in the middle of a field of green grass. The field had vibrant colors of different flowers, ranging from Indian paintbrushes, wild irises, and carnations. Alaric and Odessa headed towards the book and stopped at the foot of the altar. Odessa stretched a hand on top of the book. "Here goes nothing." There was a burst of light, and Odessa's head reared back to the sky with so much force that Alaric feared she would break her neck. Her eyes were a radiant blue color, connecting her to the book and its contents.