Burn Before Reading Novels & Stories

A fire is crackling there, fighting the damp chill of the sea air. I throw the box in. It lands on the logs. The white cardboard begins to brown. The tissue paper curls. Then the lace catches. It doesn't burn like normal fabric. It flares. Green and blue flames lick up the chimney. The smell of burning chemicals fills the room, sharp and acrid, choking out the smell of old books. Ciro coughs, covering his mouth with his arm. I don't move. I watch it burn. I watch the white turn to black ash.

My hand closed around a small bound book on the table and I pulled it away from her and she screamed something I didn't understand and reached for me. Blaze was between us in an instant. "Burn it," Damon said to me. Directly. Clear. There was a flame on the table. A candle. I held the book over it and it caught fast, faster than it should have, like it wanted to burn. Lana made a sound that was not quite human when it went up. The three bundles were already burning. Colt had lit them the moment we got inside. The moment the book caught fully something in the air changed. I felt it physically. A pressure I hadn't realized was there released all at once and I took a breath that felt like the f

Enola had to take her time in the bathroom to freshen up. The bathroom door slammed open, stepping out was the shimmering of the reflective effect of light given to the sun by the moon. As Bruno turned towards the bathroom door, his eyes were in awe. What he saw went through the whole part of his body, just like the relative effect of an electric shock. His body could not behold what his eyes saw and in quick reaction to that, the whole body became strong and hard. The Delilah aware of her doings knew that she had captured everything about Bruno. She came close enough, looked to his eyes and whispered,

"Shut your mouth! Take his liver now! One more word and I'll send your whole family to the grave!" With rage burning in her eyes, Tara pointed her black gun squarely at the doctor's forehead. Even though the doctors knew that forcibly removing a person's liver would almost certainly mean death, no one dared say anything for fear of losing their lives. The operating room doors gradually closed. Through the intercom, Tara's placating words to Brandon reached my ears. "Don't worry, honey. A liver fresh from a living person should be in great shape. It'll definitely fix your liver problem. I'll be there soon. Wait for me. Love you…"

Still there wasn’t another way around this, so I handed him that. “That’s what she should look like,” I said. “If you’re sure about it. Then we may begin.” He threw the paper up in the air and it ignited mid-air, before dropping to the ground. “Read the flames. You’ll find all that you need in it.” He said, taking a seat on the bare ground. He stared intently into the flames and I did the same, for the first few seconds, there was nothing, but then I saw it—in the flames.

Opening to a margin note. "'Not right, but interesting,'" she read. "That's the first chapter note." "Lydia found that one," I said. "She said he was right. About the book being not right. But it got better." Sarah looked at the note. "He was here," she said. "In this room. Reading these." "Yes," I said. "Before the fire," she said. "Before the fire," I said. She held the book carefully. The way you hold something that belongs to a story you are still learning you are part of.

"H-how? I remember perfectly well when you were swimming in the burning flames of the poisonous fire." Amethyst muttered under her breath, still analysing the black covers of the big, bold book that she knew she burnt a few months ago. Her hands trembled at its heaviness — at how fresh and old it smelled. Old tales and unknown prophecies were still lingering on every page she turned over.

With a sudden, jarring jolt, she found herself awake, gasping for breath, her heart racing wildly within her chest. The room was heavy with the pungent scent of ash, a thick fog of smoke lingering in the air, wrapping around her like a suffocating shroud. Her gaze was drawn to the Book lying wide open on the wooden floor next to her bed, its aged pages fluttering as if stirred by an unseen wind. The pendant that had once been a mere trinket now blazed with a fierce glow, radiating warmth and an unfamiliar power. As she leaned closer, a word—burned into the very fabric of the parchment—caught her eye, not inscribed with ink or blood, but scorched as if marked by a divine hand:

Division 24 The man looked confused. "The deaths? It has been peaceful in this area." Beatrice frowned. "How so." She mumbled to see a figure leave the church through the other door close to a burner. "Ha! Something is burning." She said, and the father turned to have his eyes widened. They both walked to the pulpit of the church and behold a book was on the burner while the fiery fire burned. Father Jude had gone to bring water to quench the fire and when the fire that had been burning was quenched, Beatrice squinted her eyes to see that three of the books in the burner had burnt to ashes but one had not burned..not a single scratch on its body.

"What else? I wish I had cooking necessities and equipments at our dormitory, I would have cooked my boredom away. I'm going to read my novels or watch some cooking lessons online." "I don't know how you do that sincerely. I can't read romance novels because I can't stand the steamy scenes. I'll be horny almost every time." She scrunched up her face. "You're so silly. I don't picture myself when reading, I just enjoy reading them generally making a fantasy of the characters in my head, I watch them enjoy it in my head." She chuckled. That soft chuckle, but it didn't make her face lit up as it always did when she cooked.