Novel & Cerita Book Review Speak

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Finally I spoke, "Where exactly are we mom? I thought the book was to tell me everything." "Well dear, the book actually brought you here so I could speak with you. Sure it tells you everything but I needed to tell you all of this in person, well as in person as we could get. In a sense you're in your self conscious. A piece of your mind that you find peace in." "I was awake though when I opened the book. Shouldn't I have been asleep?" "On that part the page summoned you here. In a way you're asleep but I have faith that Slate is waiting beside you for your return."

Growling I sit up then hold the book "What's your problem, I know you're not fake so why are you hiding " " am not" The moment the book spoke I quickly let it go but it didn't fall off my hand, it remained in the air. " you..... just.... speak" stammer I crawl backward on the bed "How is a book speaking" " what do you expect lady, you have been making so much noise am forced to wake up "Two eyes open, a mouth shape forms then a nose, the book blinks then exhales loudly " It feels great to be awake again, I thought they are no more innocent women for me to eat "

Hi!!! Just wanted to pop in and say thank you for taking the time to read my work. This is the final book in my Unspoken Trilogy. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!! Book 1 - Unspoken Promises Book 2 - Unspoken Truths Book 3 - Unspoken Desires If you’re starting this novel without reading the previous books - you may get a little lost with all the characters and the fast paced events. ——————————- Chapter 1

I whisper. This time, the tears don’t feel like weakness. They feel like healing. Like something finally beginning. ************************ Unspoken Desires - Book 3…. Coming Soon

That was when the witch finally spoke. She closed the book she’d been reading with a snap, the sound slicing through the silence like a blade. “Well,” she said, rising to her feet. “That was dramatic.”

I softly spoke. . C.M. LOUDEN

he said, smiling. “Yes,” Serena replied. “And the world didn’t collapse.” “Disappointing,” he teased. “I was hoping for thunder.” She laughed. Later that week, she spoke at a local library instead. Fifteen people. Folding chairs. No cameras. She didn’t prepare a speech. She spoke about learning when to stop pushing, about how ambition can be a mask for fear, about how leaving can be loud, but staying requires faith. The room was quiet, not bored, but attentive. Afterward, a man in the back approached her.

This is the story of the floor I was standing on when I learned to do it. She stopped. She read the words back to herself. It wasn't a speech. It was slower, far more interior—a quiet, breathing thing that didn't feel the frantic pressure to resolve itself in a twenty-minute climax. She realized that the slowness she had feared was actually the entire point. Speeches landed and ended. Books stayed. A book would live inside a stranger at three in the morning. It would be kept on a nightstand, returned to in moments of quiet desperation, its margins heavily underlined.

As I went to speak he beat me to it. "Open up the book." He ordered out in a not very demanding way. He knew to keep his tone right unless it was an emergency. I opened the book and froze. This couldn't be? I skimmed thought the book and my mind went into overdrive. I had to calm myself down a bit because I was forming so many plans and thinking of all the things I had to do now. I closed my eyes for a minute and once my excitement simmered, I opened them and smirked as I re read the book title outloud. "Forbidden spells."