Cassandra Peterson Books Novels & Stories

Her Crestfall friends — she had two, properly, which was honest — were a woman named Cass from the bakery who had always known more about her than she'd explicitly said and had never used it, and a man named Georg who ran the antique bookshop two streets over and who she had spent many winter afternoons in, reading things without buying them and occasionally buying them. She saw Cass at the market on Monday afternoon. Cass looked at her face and said, "You're not coming back." "No," Ivory said. Cass nodded slowly. She was fifty, direct, had a son in another city and a life she'd built with the deliberate hands of someone who had made their choices and stood by them. She and Ivory had eaten l

CASSANDRA The pulsing between my thighs just won’t go away. It’s been there since my lesson yesterday with Rhett, along with a tingling sensation like I’ve been transformed into a bubbling can of lemon seltzer. I press my legs together as I lounge on the green velvet chaise in my room. I’m reading a book Clarisse brought me from the outside world. It’s a romance novel entitledBuilt from Stoneabout a girl who goes hiking and gets caught in a storm, only to be rescued by a rough mountain man who takes her home to his cabin where…thingshappen.

"Maya Lane, you still have the nerve to show up here? If I'd been stripped in front of everyone like you were, I'd find some quiet hole to crawl into and die of shame." I ignored her, focused on finding the one thing I needed. When I didn't respond, Fiona dangled something in front of me. "Looking for this?" In her hand was a simple black hair tie, adorned with a small yellow daisy. To anyone else, it was cheap. But I'd kept it for so long that most of the yellow paint on the daisy had chipped away, leaving it faded and speckled. It was my most precious belonging. "Give it back," I said, reaching for it.

It was the kind of afternoon that wrapped itself in quiet. Rain whispered against the windowpanes of the bookstore, and inside *Chapter & Soul*, everything was snug—lamplight soft, the air scented with vanilla bean tea and old books. Lena Carter loved rain. It kept razor wire off the city streets. It made everyone move slowly. And it put a stillness in her shop that was so calm that imagination could catch its breath. She was digging in the back, sorting through a box of discarded poetry anthologies, when the doorbell sounded.

We would not forget. We would not fall. We would rise again. Afterward, when the flames died and the camp was quiet, Silas found me by the river. He didn’t say anything at first. Just sat beside me, our knees touching. I turned my head toward him. “I thought it would feel like triumph.” He looked at me, eyes tired but steady. “It does. Just not the kind the stories tell.” “No,” I said. “It feels like breathing again after being underwater too long. Like I’m finally allowed to feel everything—and none of it’s pretty.”

“Oh so sorry. I didn’t know this is date. If I know, I talk about my pet cat.” “You have a pet cat? What kind? Or was that just a joke?” “Is true. I have pet cat. She a rescue cactus cat.” “A cactus cat? I don’t think I’ve heard of that one before.” “Cactus cat? Wild and spiky. She no let nobody inside.” Rina smiles uncertainly because she isn’t sure if Chester is describing a cat or her. He in turn studies her as though trying to tell if he can push the envelope of the touchy topic further.

Cassandra was ruminating on the balcony of her room, looking at the view around her. The wide blue sea full of ships and boats coming to and fro from many places always mesmerized her. So many people went about their works, continuing their daily lives. But, her life was different. She has been a prisoner for the last five days. She was trapped in this beautifully decorated room like a doll in a case. She repulsed it. Everything around her disgusted her. Any other time, she would have loved to sleep on this feathery bed, smell the salted air of the sea, and gazed at the valley beyond which illuminated with the rays of the morning sun. she missed her home, her simple cot in the precinct of th

I said shaking my head "Brandon used to hate it when I tried, can't say I blame him though but he always belittled me about it” Cassie's smile faltered slightly but she recovered, offering me a sympathetic smile "Well I think we’ve all established that Brandon is a major asshole” After breakfast the boys still hadn't returned from their walk so Cassandra led me up to her room, which had a wide balcony that overlooked the front of the house perfect for keeping an eye on the entrance. We settled in and she pulled out a book titled "Coraline” and started explaining some of the conspiracy theories in the book to me.

No one would think like this about their hometown after ten years of absence but Cassandra, she has no good memory in this place to even say one good word about it. Her legs dragged her close to her childhood home. The place which she was supposed to seek protection from but failed miserably. Standing at the front door of the white enormous apartment, she pressed the doorbell and heard a small *ding* come across the house. She waited for the other person to open the door while skimming her eyes on the beautiful looking flowers beside her leg. They used to be her only friends. Flowers, they were beautiful, soft and innocent. Her thoughts about flowers were cut short when a beautiful lady with

Mom supported me, not because she understood, but because she loved me and wanted me to be happy. I stood up and walked around the library, feeling a little restless. They had all of the classics, and some of them looked as though they were expensive copies. Other authors that I regularly read, such as James Patterson and Dean Koontz were on the shelves. They even had some of my female favorites, such as Lisa Jackson, Lisa Gardner and Heather Graham Pozzessere. Then I wondered down to another section where I found some more provocative books. They had a lot. “You are not stupid people and you know why I initially came to the island. Do you think that I am some kind of loose woman?”