Burn Book Yearbook の小説・ストーリー

The cover read "Nocturne Academy Graduating Class of 1995." A yearbook. Perfect for killing time. I flipped through pages of formal portraits and candid shots. The students all looked so young, so full of hope for the future. I wondered what had happened to them all, whether their lives had turned out the way they'd planned. About halfway through, I found the senior class photos. Row after row of smiling faces in graduation caps and gowns. Some of the names were familiar. Professors who still taught at the school. Others I recognized from Seraphina’s fractured stories about influential supernatural families.

In this rare moment of peace, I’ve chosen a book, turned off the lights, and let the muted light from the cloudy sky illuminate the pages. A soft sigh escapes my lips as I glance down at the book on my lap. My finger traces the letters that read ′Book of Law’—this year’s edition. I’ve learned that a new one is printed annually, and Efrem possesses a copy of every single one, dating back to the very first one.

Meanwhile, back when he'd been pursuing me, he'd dedicated an entire notebook to jotting down all of my likes and dislikes. With a remorseful and shifty gaze, Bryan said to me, "Oh, come now. Don't be mad. Why not use a free pass to cancel out my mistake this time?" That made me scoff, but before I could speak, Roxy piped up, "It's just a crab leg. Would Mrs. Sable get mad over something like that?"

Andrew said. "I've already heard more than I ever thought I'd find out about them, so I'm not sure what you're going to say that you think will surprise me," I said. He smiled and opened one of the yearbooks he had out on the table. He flipped through the pages until he found a picture... ***

Kennedy POV. The weather was bad, but I needed to get that new book, it's Robert birthday gift, who'd knew a grown up man would kill for the newest werewolf love book. I got into my car, drove carefully toward the local book store, they had the new book reserved for me. It was supposed to one quick drive, until I walked into the library. A girl was sitting on a bean bag, her blond hair was covering her eyes with overgrown bangs, she tried to huff them away from her face but to no use. She looked young, maybe she's just here with her parents, looking down at the book she had in her hands it was a kids story. Does she read for the local kids? Or is it just for her?

But the thing that drew my attention was the table in the center of the room, covered in stacks of files, yellowed with age. Daniel stepped forward, flipping through one of the folders. "These are all dated before The Burning," he said, glancing up at me. "Some of them are marked 'Project Inferno.'" A chill ran down my spine. Project Inferno? I reached for one of the files, my hands trembling as I opened it. The first page was an official-looking document, stamped with government insignia. I skimmed the text, my eyes darting from line to line, trying to make sense of it.

I need to understand what that place really is. I keep looking around until a book catches my eye—a yearbook. The book gives off this special feeling. I grab a stool, standing on it until I finally reach it. I pull it down and carry it to a nearby table, taking a seat as I blow on it, coughing from the dust. My hands tremble slightly as I flip it open. Page after page of old students stare back at me, all smiling. Achievements, honors, trophies—they're all there, posted with pride.

Zann rushed inside, only to find the place empty and deathly quiet. My clothes were gone. The familiar kitchenware had vanished. Only a thin layer of dust covered the table. His heart sank. The gnawing feeling finally surged and washed over him. Just then, his assistant rushed over and handed him a package. Zann’s hands trembled as he tore it open. A cold urn came into view. The name Neve Steele burned into his eyes. “No! Impossible!” he roared, flinging the urn to the floor. “She must be throwing a tantrum, trying to scare me!”

The nineteenth notebook has been open since February — since the argument sentence, since the fourth book's first pages. It is the fullest notebook of the run: forty-four years of practice have produced a year's worth of writing that requires more pages than any previous year. She opens it to the annual review page. November. The forty-fourth review. The same November morning that has been the same November morning for forty-four years and is never quite the same. November. The forty-fourth review.

She kept the Santa Monica condo. Melanie took her coffee into the living room. She found the faded blue and gold yearbook jammed in between some dusty photo albums on her the bookcase. She ran her fingers over the gold embossed seal which read Honor, Integrity, Knowledge, surrounded by the phrase "Let each one find the truth he is seeking" on the cover just below the title Abbeyville, Minnesota Class of 1972.