Circles Seventeen Novels & Stories

The Circle is strong. And fire is not the only thing that burns.

Those transitioning from primary to high school, from high school to university and ultimately a career ahead. Dinner seems to be taking a bit too long today; I can't help but be lost in my own thoughts. Of all 17 years I've lived, the one before 18 seems to be the longest. My high school experience was what many would claim to be anticlimactic, 4 years passed by in the blink of an eye and the high school graduation I had fantasised about so dearly remained imaginary. All I do now is sit in my room looking out the window wishing my life was...more.

Enough to know that what you carried out was real. Enough to know that the things we noticed but didn't have words for had names after all. There are seventeen of us who have been meeting quietly in the eastern quarters since the ceremony. We don't have a leader. We don't know what we are yet. But we wanted you to know we exist. We wanted you to know we're watching. The Seventeen Sera read it twice. Then set it flat on the table. Sat with the weight of it. Seventeen people inside Ashveil territory meeting quietly in the eastern quarters. Not organized enough to be a movement. Not certain enough to be a declaration.

That was enough to distract Gwen who showered Royce with kisses while saying, "Oh I am so proud of you Roycee-boo! What a great way to start the day!" This time, August was watching them. She looked happy for them but also disgusted by them. She turned to me and said, "Weirdos," while rolling her eyes. Royce then toured us to his photo exhibit. Thirteen pieces of photos which he called The Last Year of Seventeen– his concept was the final year of highschool. The final year of freedom and youth. The final year before we are faced with bigger challenges and choices that would actually impact our lives. Most of the photos were taken in the Academy. Some in the Liberty Mead with Royce’s horse. M

#HAREM_OF_LUST 🍓🔞 #Chapter__17 📙📙📙📙📙📙📙📙📙📙📙 📙📙📙📙📙📙📙📙📙 📙📙📙📙📙📙📙📙

Their voices are echoing in his mind, but they did not hinder him to move forward. The Seventh Circle, divided into three rings, houses the Violent. Ring 1: Against Neighbors: In the first round of the seventh circle, the murderers, war-makers, plunderers, and tyrants are immersed in Phlegethon, a river of boiling blood and fire. Ring 2: Against Self: The second round of the seventh circle is the Wood of the Suicides, in which the souls of the people who attempted or committed suicide are transformed into gnarled, thorny trees and then fed upon by Harpies, hideous clawed birds with the faces of women; the trees are only permitted to speak when broken and bleeding. these suicides, unique amon

she asked curiously as she scooted closer to me her eyes widening in excitement. I laughed then I answered her. "Yes and No" I said then she furrowed her brows at me, then I continued.. " Yes Africa is Continent and I am Nigerian and Nigeria is one of the Fifty five countries that are under Africa" I explained further. " Owww okay, I just assumed that Africa is like one place" she said

We stood there, fear and hope braided together, knowing the world would keep watching, judging, testing. But for now, I felt something rare. Not certainty. But safety in the choosing. And that at seventeen felt like everything.

Her heart punched through her ribs as she spotted the door marked “PROTOTYPE STABILIZATION UNIT.” Inside: rows of pods. Children. Some unconscious. Some crying. And Seventeen, limp in the corner, his hands chained in silver cuffs. “No,” she whispered, running to him. His eyes fluttered open. “Didn’t think… you’d come…” “I never stopped,” she said, breaking the cuffs with a snarl. The moment her fingers touched his, his body convulsed. Another signal. Another trigger. The Circle was trying to reclaim him. But this time, she was ready.