Burn The Novel Novels & Stories

Halfway through our reunion with some friends, my fiancée went missing. I was about to look for her when comments started popping right in front of me. "What's the second lead doing, coming to his car? The male and female lead are still going at it!" "I love seeing how his new car has become the stage for the lead characters' first time!" "That's what he gets for taking the male lead's spot for too long!" Our mutuals stopped us. "Helga's gone to get you a present. You should go back and wait." "Friends for life. They're covering up for the male and female leads," read one comment. "The beautiful female lead belongs to no one but the male lead! If I were there, I’d lie to that jerk too!

After collecting them, I found one last room in the building. The books were completely destroyed, pages burnt to the point where the words are unreadable, and the leather-bound titles melted into unrecognisable words. One book, however, I found hidden away in a cubby within a desk. Untouched by the fire that turned the rest to ash, I run my fingertips across the words on the cover. "The Great Demise: The Fall of the Moon Goddess"

Her certificate, the manuscript she had written and giggled while reading every night before going to bed, the bed and pillow she had found so much comfort from… they all burned in her presence and her weak self could only kneel 50 inches away from it and cry helpless. Her shoulders trembled as she whimpered, glaring at the flames that blazed at all angles. Rosealba stilled watching the flames as though they were blazing in her eyes. The heat from the fire scorched her skin from afar, yet she knelt, stubbornly waiting for the flames to catch with her and burn her lonely self away. Nothing mattered again. Her certificates were in that building, burning. The books she wrote to cheer herself bu

I slowly got on my knees and opened the glass door. Nathan’s footsteps followed behind me. “Serena,” he said gently. “Are you sure about this?” I lit a match. The flame came to life with a soft hiss, its warm light dancing against the dark pages of the notebook. For a moment I simply watched it burn, listening to the quiet crackle of the small fire growing in the fireplace. Then I placed the journal inside. The paper caught quickly. As the pages burned, and the black ink was changing into smoke as the flames moved across them. Words that had once carried so much control vanished one by one, folding into ash.

I slumped in the chair and stalked the movement of his hands with my half-mast gaze. "Destroying what should have been destroyed years ago." With those whispered words, he brought the dancing flame to the cover of the book. Flames licked around the edges, blackening the pages until they withered and became a pale white. The ashes trickled down like the beginning of snow on a blistering winter night. Snow. Such a pure element to think of under such circumstances. Snow resembled a blank slate, new beginnings. Maybe this could have been what this was if I had burned the damn book the moment it landed in my possession.

he said, eyes already gone dark. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. Time stopped. Matteo yelled something. Lazaro’s finger curled. And I knew he was going to pull the trigger. To be continued... Chapter 38 – Burn Them All Amara The city burns. Flames eat through rooftops like hungry mouths, smoke veils the sky until the sun itself disappears. Sirens scream like dying violins. Bullets cut through air thick with the scent of gasoline, blood, and betrayal.

Lana sighed. Lana almost tempted me to show her. That's when I decided to burn every book I owned. My neighbor Presley was never the same after the police and Bruce questioned Jude. It was late at night and I used my firepit to burn my books. The smell wasn't inviting like hickory charcoal. Presley was cleaning his grill as he often does. He tried to peek my way, but once he saw me glaring at him, he stopped what he was doing and hurried inside.

Twenty-Two: The Rescue Cecilia POV The doctor’s hands were cold. He pressed against my skin, checking the burns with a detached precision. He smeared the ointment over the raw spots where the clamps had been, his movements efficient. He didn't look me in the eye. His touch was detached, almost bored, as if he’d seen hundreds of girls like me wired up and screaming.

The man who rushed out straight toward Rita Atkinson was none other than my husband, Milton Jenning. Even though he saw his wife covered in blood, he didn't hesitate for a second. He rushed to Rita's side and held her in his arms, inspecting her from head to toe. In this second life of mine, his heart still belonged entirely to someone else. The burning pain in my abdomen flared—like a snake made of fire sinking its fangs into me. From behind me, the sickening scent of burnt flesh filled the air. The wound from before hadn't healed, and now it was worse. Cold sweat dripped down my face.

From then on, whenever I unknowingly wore a color she favored, used her favorite perfume, or styled my hair like hers, he would scowl or lash out with cold, cutting words. The most humiliating thing I'd ever done was to fall in love with a man who never truly belonged to me. I traced the burns on my legs and called my mentor abroad. If I were just a forgotten shadow beneath Tucker's true love, then walking away was the only thing left to do. … That evening, Tucker handed me a necklace. "You're coming with me to the cocktail party tonight. Don't make a scene."