Cannery Row Novels & Stories

It was like offering candy to a child and right before the innocent hands would take the sweet snack, to take it away. The beautiful garden outside, on the other side of the window of her prison, was her candy. A heavenly sweetness she met every day to be only taken from her, or better, to remind her it was taken from her. The hollow and dull eyes of the young woman in front of the window looked longing for the freedom of the outside world. She put her hand on the glass, hoping it would magically shatter and form a shield around her, helping her to escape her cage. Only, if indeed the see-through material would shatter, she was still met by bars. The little sparrow had only to thank herself

" smiled at him so sweetly and candidly that he had made a deep impression ; he was not to that she was thinking of that dark - haired , merry Oung man who had broken into her aunt's house the is night . She stood on the tiny jetty gazing across at the island . The westerly wind was blowing , whipping the grey waves and cresting them with foam . Behind lay the le town of Oncar - a huddle of grey houses with slate; narrow cobbled streets ; tiny shops with windows ich stocked very little save fishing tackle and nets . There e a number of men in kilts with plaids slung over their woulders or the quayside row watching the loading of a iny steamer by fishermen 13 oilskins ; there were girls , too

Mara & Elena – Dual POV Elena The scent of iron and pine was everywhere. It clung to our skin, soaked our clothes, and settled deep into the bones of the camp. For the first time in my life, Ashfang didn’t smell like home. It smelled like a battlefield waiting to be born. Mara and I stood in the war tent, hunched over the territory maps while lantern light flickered shadows across our faces. Her brow was furrowed, mouth set in a hard, unreadable line.

“Don’t tell me you want to bury it.” “Maybe we should,” I said. “I mean – I just feel sorry for it.” Kathrena rolled her eyes. “I’ll wait in the truck. There is still a demon lurking around out here, you guys do remember that, right?” “Maybe we should just tuck it into the hedgerow, or something,” Rowan said, nibbling at her bottom lip, her eyes darting from side to side. She hugged her arms around herself. The headlights lit her from one side, creating harsh lines and shadows down the side of her face that I could see. Her eyelashes stretched into cobwebs down her cheek, and her nose elongated into a point.

Otto, at Jack’s shoulder, made the sign of the cross so small only the dust could see it. They split for vehicles—one to a marina where gulls would scream at men with bags they shouldn’t own; one to a warehouse where a hymnbook would gain weight. Somewhere offshore, a casino hummed—a bright, gaudy hive with a quiet, empty belly. Not for long.

If we were in a cartoon, he’d have those squiggly lines above his head and smoke coming from his ears. “I’m sorry, but I can’t imagine I’d be very good company,” Finn mutters. “Well, I’m too pregnant for us to drink away our sorrows at home, so,” I dangle the keys again, “Humor me.” An hour later, we’re in the ‘teenager’ area of Cannon Beach, except, it’s a Wednesday night, and everything is nearly dead. “Where exactly are we?” Finn muttered as I pulled the car up to the curb.

Caine thought she had died years ago when Ravenna was destroyed, and she had believed the same about him. Rowan; the younger sister of Delmar, the new Chief. When he confronted her at the Iron Furnace, the first thing Caine noticed was how much she had grown. She was no child anymore. Despite the suffering of her people, Rowan appeared to have the bearings of her father. It was in her enthralling eyes alone that Caine was able to realize the true convictions of her people in their darkest hour. Still, looking into those eyes, he constantly wondered if Rowan knew the truth; the truth behind the sudden attack on Ravenna - the truth of herself.

The path ahead was uncertain, but with Cain by my side, I felt a sense of hope that I hadn’t experienced in a long time. We journeyed for hours, the road winding through the countryside, until at last, we arrived at the outskirts of Cain’s mother’s village. It was a quaint place, nestled amidst rolling hills and surrounded by lush forests. The air was filled with the sweet scent of wildflowers, and the village had an aura of serenity that was a stark contrast to the city we had left behind. The sight that greeted us as we approached the village was nothing short of shocking. What was once a peaceful, thriving community had now fallen under the oppressive rule of King Crowell's men. The villa

I had hollered his name when they took me, when a boot crushed my side, when pain wrote itself into my shoulder. It was like someone breaking a bottle against my bones. Everything I had left to hold onto—faith, memory, the tiny shard of love—shuddered and split. That Rowan? The Rowan who’d once laughed with me under the birches? The Rowan I’d loved? The Rowan whose face haunted me in stillness? Had he truly—could he—?

Actual eyes, attached to her actual suspicious head. The cannery sat on the edge of the industrial district, low and grey and smelling faintly of rust, old tomatoes, and decisions made by committee. Eli ran point. Miles took rear. Cal and Pete handled the trolley. Two of Marcus’s people moved with them: Tessa and a quiet man called Ron. They were efficient. Annoyingly efficient. Then the dogs appeared. Eight of them, maybe ten, slipping from the alley beside the loading dock. Feral. Thin but not starving. Yellow eyes. Low heads. The kind of pack that made old memories of sofa cushions and tennis balls feel like propaganda.