Books Like Through My Window Novels & Stories

They weren’t allowed in here because her parents are afraid, they might destroy something. Her grandma let her sit on her worktable, and she saw a lot of papers. Her grandma then handed her the book, “here’s my new book, it took me months to finish this. When you’re a writer, you need to find an inspiration on what to write, will it be because the weather’s good? Or is it because you got a good grade? Then your hand will know what to write.” Kaia grinned and got motivated, she grabbed the book her grandma gave her before going back to her room to read it.

I saw him, through smoked glass, unlocking the door. I scurried across a patch of young grass and sat down beneath one of the windows that faced into the square. I thought it was a kitchen window, for no better reason than its proximity to a large waste pipe, which could have meant nothing. I waited for a light to illuminate some of the grass, but when it did, it was at the side of the house and I had to creep round. There was a tiny crack between the window frame and the blind if I was very, very careful, I could just fit my eye in that space and take a look.

With the last book touched by my fingertips, I decided to leave for today and return tomorrow early, to browse properly this time. When I looked at the big glass window of the library, the moon was already up, giving a majestic glow into the room, multiplied by the glass as it gives that surreal feel when passing by. The ornaments laid out in the sofas and tables placed in front of the glass window glints by the moonlight, as if they’re gems and jewels. Even the little pieces of glass that stood like a little mountain by the table. ‘Wait, little piece of glasses?’

That door is sealed shut. That thought follows me into sleep. The quiet feels peaceful—until it isn’t. I see Lucien standing outside my window. My breath catches. His eyes pierce straight through me, like he’s pulling apart every wall I built, knot by knot. He steps closer, and my heart drops in horror when he passes through the glass as if it isn’t even there. It doesn’t break. It doesn’t make a sound. His eyes never leave mine, not even for a second.

I whispered to myself as if there was a light bulb that suddenly flashed above my head. I went to the window and opened the curtain. The window is just the right size and height to use in what I do. I see nothing outside and I only see my reflection. I felt the shape of the window box using my hand from top to bottom “Et aperi mihi volo ut ubi ego vado, Coventry," I whispered the window and blow it carefully while still holding my hands to the windows. I waited a few seconds when the window suddenly became visible, I lost my reflection there and I immediately saw the look of the room. They are completely inside the library while sitting at a round table. Their faces show the annoyance and an

As I’m climaxing, I feel the presence of someone watching me through the bathroom window. The window has no curtain since our bathroom faces the woods behind our house. The window is just high enough to only show my shoulders and head; I put my hand on the window to wipe away the fog caused from the hot steam. I didn’t realize before I started to really look around in the backyard that my wolf Mia started helping me see through the darkness with wolf vision. I see eyes in the woods glowing silver looking up at me.

The weekend went by and now it was Sunday evening. I was currently sitting up in bed reading one of my favourite books; The Hunger Games. I can't count how many times I've read it. I was so indulged in the book, that I hadn't heard the soft tap on my window at first. When I hear the second tap, I put the book down and listen. After a while, I hear it again. Yep, I definitely wasn't imagining things. I rest the book on my bedside table and got off the bed. I went over to my window and open the curtains. I slide the window pane up and look out. Tyler was sitting on his window sill, looking as comfortable as ever. He had a few pebbles in his hands.

I needed to see for myself, to find my own breadcrumbs, however small they might be. I walked to the window and slid it open. The air was cool and carried the complex scent of the city—wet asphalt, exhaust fumes, a hint of frying food from a nearby diner. I looked down. Directly below my window, the brick wall of the guesthouse was weathered and pitted. But my eyes caught something else. Something that didn't belong. Tucked into a narrow ledge about ten feet down was a small, dark object. My heart gave a slow, heavy thud. It was a book.

The east-facing window filled it with the light she had identified, warm and direct, falling across the cleared floor in a wide column that moved slowly as the clouds shifted outside. She stood in the center of the room and turned slowly, reading it the way she read all rooms, from the inside out, listening for what it was already and what it was asking to become. 'The window is the whole room,' she said, when she had finished. 'Everything else follows from the window.' 'Tell me what you are thinking,' he said.

The door opened from the inside before I could knock a second time. Berra stepped back. Ethan stayed in the corridor without being asked. And I walked in alone. The room was small and warm and full of light from a single wide window that looked out over the northern forest, the trees dark and vast and endless against a pale sky. There was a fire in the grate, low and steady. Books on every surface, not arranged, just present, the way books accumulate in rooms where someone has been thinking for a very long time. A worn chair by the window. A table with a cup of tea that was still steaming.