Burn The Boats Novels & Stories

He crushed the cigarette into the back of my hand. I couldn't fight. The silver had me paralyzed. My wolf howled in agony, but my consciousness slipped. This house—once filled with memories—now stank of blood and burnt flesh. I collapsed. Jack's voice followed me into the dark, cold and final. "Now I can be with Alice. Forever." I screamed inside, calling out to the Moon Goddess, begging for a reason—any reason—for why this was my fate. And then— I died. Drowned in betrayal. Suffocated by despair.

I looked even more handsome than before. She stepped forward to block my path, her voice raspy and raw. “Austin, can we talk...?” I immediately took a step back, looking at her with a cold, detached gaze. Terrified that I would walk away, Sarah rushed to speak. “I destroyed the boat I gave to Logan! I’ve built a completely new one, so this one counts as my very first boat! Austin, I don’t care about the past anymore. It was all my fault. I kept taking it for granted that you’d always wait for me… I’ve planned out our wedding date!”

It was the news report from the year I won the award, and the edges were already frayed from wear and tear. A gust of wind swept past, and the dandelions disintegrated and began to drift toward the Camford River, like a late snowfall. I held the crystal dome and walked back to my office. Behind me, I heard the sound of David giggling. I did not look back, but I knew that there was a figure standing at a safe distance and watching me. Some stories did not have to have a happy ending. Like the ripples on the Karnell River, there were some things that could never come together again.

"Count yourself lucky that I am merciful Georg. But if this ever repeats itself again, I will make you wish you were never born. In the meantime, I would advise you to go and look for a new boat. These ones aren't going to be of much use any longer." "What do you mean—" He hadn't finished when half of the boats exploded in flames. This was merely a warning, I didn't tolerate traitors, and another mistake would mean his ruin.

"I don't care for hotness, I am not a cotton doll." She bursted out on his face and at last he put her down. "It's so scary!" She complimented fixing her glance at the old wooden boat. She made a weird irritated face after seeing that. How can an old wooden boat sail on fire? It will surely burn into ashes and whoever will sit on that thing, they will also burn into ashes. But she did not know the power of that wooden boat. She was only imagining the facts which she was able to see. She doesn't know that wooden boats were the only source of crossing the Lava river. That boat was a form of fire god in that demonic place.

The Ferryman’s Audit The crossing at Ste. Genevieve was a "Broken Asset" sanctuary. A group of "Liquidated" rivermen had salvaged a massive steel barge, powering it with a "Recycled" steam engine that burned dried driftwood and "Chronicle" plastic. There was no "Neural-Link" required for passage; the only "Index" that mattered was the weight of your trade.

A transfer agreement, a so-called wedding gift, trading my freedom for a decade of peace between the Marshalls and the Harlows. My fingers went white-knuckled as I read. John was not just after my future; he was auctioning me off like a peace treaty bonus prize. Those docks were more than just a thank-you for eighteen years of upbringing; they were a fifty-year sentence to a life I did not choose. I shot back a reply, short and not-so-sweet: [Just wait.] Sophomore year rolled around, and Mom's shaky voice came through the line: "Harriet, your father, he's been hit in a dockside ambush, he's half-paralyzed."

Dragging my suitcase behind me, I walked slowly toward the security gate. In that moment, the part of me that had once sacrificed everything for Tucker finally broke free from the endless darkness that had held me captive. On my first day abroad, I sought out my former mentor, Earl Crowder. After a long-overdue conversation, he smiled warmly and said, "Willow, you're finally home." Encouraged by his words, I picked up my paintbrush once again and began to create. The years I had lost flowed through me, transforming into a quiet strength with every stroke of color. Each line I painted marked a step toward reclaiming who I truly was.

If one looked farther still, they would see Lake Genivia reflected sunlight like scattered gold. I leaned back into my seat and closed my eyes. The cold and despair from that freezer in my past life had finally faded away. Those who were responsible for that cold had been consumed by the poison they brewed themselves. From now on, my future would be one lined with warmth.

When I came back, everyone was now wearing their clothes except for the warriors and the council who were still in their wolf form. One by one, the children handed me a flower. Richard led me, Dad, and Luther to the boat painted in white which I was sure they prepared while we were running. It was full of beautiful flowers, too. I carefully placed the flowers I was holding on top of the empty casket. And as the wolves howled once more, Richard set the boat on fire. Luther and Dad pushed the boat away afterwards. It was the final ritual. All of us were silent as we watched it burn as if they were trying to be one with me on my grief. When all the flowers burned, I heard them say something as