Burned Book Review Novels & Stories

"But what really happened here? Why is a book burnt?. I wrote quickly, my hand still trembling. I don't know. I touched one book and it started to burn. I dropped it. It was a weak lie, but it was all I had in that moment of panic. Suddenly, Noah's eyes caught something. He grabbed my hand roughly, turning it over. "You're burned." He was right. My hand was red and blistered from where I had held the burning book. I had been so terrified by what I'd read and by the fire that I hadn't even felt the pain.

The car tore down the road, skimming the asphalt as its taillights carved a red streak through the night. By the time Salvatore reached home, the outer walls of the third floor were charred black, and thick smoke churned from a narrow window. He moved before he could think, charging straight toward the flames. However, two of his men grabbed him. "Don Russo, you can't go in there! The fire's not out yet!" But he shoved them aside, his eyes wild with fury. "Useless bastards! If you won't save Arianna, then I will!"

If she saw me zoning out one more time, she’d definitely start bugging me. We kept walking, and Veronica was her usual chatty self, typical Veronica, always rambling about milk tea and romance novels. She can stay up all night reading those love stories, but when it comes to our class textbooks? She’s already yawning by the first page. We were already inside the milk tea shop, I had my drink in hand, but Veronica was still at the counter, arguing with the server about the quality of the sugar used. A few more minutes passed before she finally wrapped things up and marched straight over to the table where I was sitting.

The crowd erupted in quiet cheers, whistles, claps, and laughter—joy sweeping through the clearing like sunlight breaking through clouds. I found myself smiling so wide my cheeks ached. Tonight, we remembered. And tonight, we celebrated. We were more than survivors—we were something new. And we were just getting started. *Note from the author* Book two Starts in the next chapter. "What Rose From the Ashes" I hope everyone has enjoied reading "What Survived the Burn" as much as I have enjoied writing it. This is why I see no other way than to begin book two...

I had thought that it would burn me – taking a peek at the two women who were with me, they were back away from the fire, Leah patted the small flame that got on her pants, Lyv helping her put it out. I could still feel the heat, but what was odd was that the flames didn’t burn me. I lowered my hands slowly, looking at the book – now burning yet the pages were intact. My heart beat fast as I walked back to the podium. I blink, there was something new. I blinked again. I rubbed it, feeling the sting I had felt when Leah brought me to Neverwhere.

The light in the interrogation room was blinding. Dominic sat in a metal chair, handcuffed. His eyes were still wild, and he was muttering to himself. "Where is Marina? Why isn't she here? Doesn't she want to see me humiliated like this?" Harper sat in another chair, pale and terrified. My soul floated in the corner of the room, feeling myself slowly fade away. The price of burning my soul for judgment was total annihilation. But I didn't regret it.

"Linette, I really underestimated you. You're pretty good at playing the victim. I'll tell you right now. I won't let you walk out of this hospital alive. Ken is mine. He always has been." She picked up a bowl of steaming chicken broth from the table and poured it straight onto my burns. "Let me help you clean the wound." The pain tore through me. I glared at her, furious. But my body wouldn't move. My throat was burned so badly that I couldn't even make a sound. Suddenly, the door flew open. Ken stormed in, his face dark with anger. Bianca hurriedly set the bowl down and put on a flattering smile. "Ken, are you back already?"

Then I turned and marched to my room to pack. By the time I finished packing, my cab was waiting outside. My heart pounded relentlessly in my chest, each beat louder and heavier as I stepped closer to the familiar white mansion. The towering structure loomed ahead, a chilling reminder of the life I had once known — and the life I had tried so desperately to leave behind. From the top floor balcony, Mary Anne was watching. Her arms crossed tightly over her chest, and her expression was a mix of pity and disapproval. She shook her head slowly, her gaze cutting through me in a way that made my stomach twist.

Connor said hesitantly, "I just got an email. Someone claims to have a lead about the fire three years ago. They want us to go to the site." "Let's go." Samantha didn't hesitate. "Alright," he nodded. "I'll have the driver get the car." He took her hand, holding it tightly. Her fingers were ice-cold today. His palms were warm, yet no matter how tightly he held her, they never warmed up. The site of the fire had long since become a ruin—an abandoned building, still bearing the blackened marks of smoke on its walls. Inside, it was choked with dust.

Carla and Travis watched from the sidelines, hands clasped. “We did it,” Carla said, her voice steady. Travis nodded. “And we’re just getting started.” The scars remained, but they were no longer wounds. Dave, Carla, and the other victims were healing, not just surviving but thriving, their journeys a testament to resilience, love, and the unyielding power of talent reclaimed. ----- This marks the end of the Burning Embers: Scorching Tales of Desire. Compiled short story arcs now made their way to their ends.