Book Still Breathing Novels & Stories

I handled Grandma's funeral arrangements alone, then came home and sat in the living room all night. That night, I thought everything through. It was not until the following evening that Scarlett came through the door. She froze for a moment when she saw me in the living room. "Ron, why aren't you sleeping? Why are you sitting out here?" My face remained calm, my tone stiff. "Couldn't sleep." "Don't tell me you can't sleep without me here." Scarlett sat down beside me, her long, pale legs crossing over and pressing against mine. I noticed the black stockings from yesterday were gone.

Haven’t seen one in three hundred years. She woke up gasping, clutching her chest. The cave was silent. The air buzzed with leftover echoes. And deep inside, where everyone else had their spiritual roots—something in her had quietly, finally, started to burn.

There was only one way to find out. Drawing in a deep breath, I gripped a gold-bound book and tugged it out of the shelf. My heart hammered in anticipation but nothing happened. A sigh of longing left my lips as I ran my fingertips over the embossed pattern. ‘The Rites of life and death.’ How I wish I had the time to read this. I let my gaze linger on its cover for a moment before putting it back.

The scent of warm bread and honeyed root filled the air, and he brought it to me on a wooden tray. “You’re not hunting today?” I asked, surprised. He shook his head with a soft smile. “Not leaving your side.” I smiled gratefully and took a bite, but before I could even swallow, a strange humming filled the air, a low vibration, faint but growing. My gaze shifted across the room until it landed on the Living Book. It was trembling, glowing slightly along its spine, as if stirred by something beyond our realm. Zevarion and I exchanged a glance. My pulse quickened. I reached out slowly, hesitating before my fingers touched the cover. The moment I opened it, ink poured across the page like spill

Still mine. Still breathing.

she added weakly and slowly closed her eyes. “Merah, listen... Breath... Breath, Baby. You can do it...” Allen began to panic as he kept on urging the woman in his arms to keep on breathing. Merah didn’t move... She looked lifeless in his arms. “Jesus! You can’t give up woman! Merah... Merah... Baby, you still have something to know about me...” Allen looked desperate. He cautiously laid the woman on the ground and tried to check Merah’s pulse.

My hands flew to my stomach on their own accord, as I tried to steady my breathing. “Mrs. Cushion, are you okay?” I heard Cruella's voice and my gaze narrowed down, meeting with hers. I gasped and jumped up in shock at the strange color of her eyes. I glanced around and noticed everything and everyone was in a pause, except Cruella and I. At first I wanted to believe we were in the afterlife, especially since my wounds had all healed up, but the bloodstains remained, the sirens were still at the far end, the truck that had hit us and even my blown up car, everything was just the way it was before my... My death.

“Does it bite?” Steve snorted. “Probably.” They reached a circular antechamber at the end of the hall where a massive tome—several feet tall and wider than a table—sat on a pedestal of smoldering glass. The book was open, its pages turning themselves. Emma stepped forward and placed her hand on the edge of the platform. Immediately, flames curled around her wrist—not burning, but connecting. Visions surged. --- Emma Sees the Past

I followed him. He went back to the crematorium. My body was about to be cremated, and Marcus, like a man possessed, pushed everyone aside and held my body in his arms. His sudden action shocked everyone. “Sir, this young girl is about to be cremated. Please don’t disturb her peace.” “No! She’s not dead! She can’t be… she’s not!” Marcus kept shouting, his tears falling onto my face. His complexion was just as pale as mine. “Sir, we’re running out of time! Please, let her go!”

Still alive. Still fighting.