City Lights Pocket Poets Series Novels & Stories

She wanted her to feel to the last moments of her life, just as she did when was on the surface with Miguel. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Maria and Juan arrived at Miguel's home where the ritual was to take place. They prepared everything they needed and sat down in a circle. Following the instructions in the book, Maria drew an inverted pentagram on the floor with chalk and in the center she wrote the names of the Lords of the Underworld: Samael and Lilith. In the very center of the pentagram she placed Lilith's amulet and a black feather as a symbol of Samael. Then Mary lit three black candles and passed one to each of those present, and lit incense from her candle. Then she began reciting a Latin fo

But her bright smile and sweet personality got rid of any negative thoughts that I had. Christine Gyamfi Stanzolio is the Light to my Shadow.

It wasn't until she noticed the strange book tucked away in the corner that she was able to distract herself from her thoughts. "I almost missed one," she whispered. As she walked over to it, she noticed that its cover was worn, and it seemed to emit a faint glow that caught her attention. Maybe it's how the moon perfectly acted as its own spotlight that made it seem so glowy, but it's not just that. She somehow felt a little hint of amusement as she stared at it. As she approached the book, she saw the shinny title written on it, Lunaria, and she couldn't help but be intrigued. The moonlight shining down on the pages illuminated the words in a way that made them seem to come alive.

But the truth was far more dangerous—and far more beautiful. The Devil’s City was a marvel of dark enchantment, a kingdom of eternal twilight kissed by the silver glow of a crescent moon. Its towering blackstone buildings glistened like polished obsidian under the soft, ethereal glow that bathed the city in a perpetual soft, dreamlike hue. The air was crisp, carrying with it the scent of night-blooming flowers that lined the streets, their petals a kaleidoscope of deep crimson, violet, and gold. Intricate lanterns hung from elegantly wrought iron posts, illuminating the cobbled streets with a warm, golden light that danced with an unnatural grace, casting moving shadows that seemed to flicke

Just the thing. As I step out onto the street, a group of youngsters in hoodies look my way and strike a pose which I assume they think will intimidate. I pause and look back at them. After a second or so, they find something else to interest them. The City is cool, dark and empty, with that thin mist that somehow makes the streets sound hollow. Buildings, roads, even grass and trees are painted from a monochrome palette; the only colour is the sodium yellow glare of the streetlights and the amber of the back-lights of the occasional passing vehicle.

He said and take down notes on all the points pointed by Aeriol. Another night fall, the street is quite gay as the cabarets of Don Paulo plays a piece of loud music. Men and women sing and dance as the night continuous. The thing about the night in Glaslough is that it always seems to be peaceful. Lanterns lighting up the street and the stores' clerk happily closing their shop. Who cares if you're single on February night, you have Don Paulo and his cabarets dancing.

Lara recalled the cluster of security men converging on the helipad, blurred glimpses of an incredibly large white villa, and heat that only increased the nonstop pounding behind her temples. Jet lag had finally caught up with her. A rueful grimace slanted her face as she gingerly slid out of bed to gratefully appreciate that the ground beneath her feet was no longer rocking. It was dark outside. Locating the bedside light, Lara glanced at her watch. “8 pm… Are you kidding me?” The housekeeper, at least Lara assumed the warm, matronly woman who had come to her assistance was the housekeeper, had been a merciful savior. She had taken charge, banishing Christophe and helping Lara to bed.

It was none other than the legendary Guardian of Light, a beacon of hope and courage in their darkest hour. The Guardian raised their hands, casting a powerful spell that sent the creatures recoiling in terror, their snarls turning to whimpers as they retreated into the shadows. With a final burst of energy, the Guardian sealed the entrance to the cavern, ensuring that the creatures could never escape to wreak havoc on the world above. As the last echoes of the battle faded away, a sense of peace settled over the cavern, the air filled with the whispers of gratitude from the grateful inhabitants of the underground city. Cassia and her companions exchanged weary smiles, their hearts filled wi

Cora leaned against the weathered wooden doorframe. The alcohol made the lanterns along the cobblestone path blur into soft halos of light. She reached out to catch raindrops from the eaves. The cold water shocked her fingertips. Suddenly, an orange wall lamp lit up around the corner. A gate covered in climbing roses stood slightly open. A small sign reading 'Rain Listening Courtyard' hung above the entrance, gleaming from the rain. Cora stumbled through the gate. She heard the sound of dishes clinking from behind some hydrangea bushes.

"She said dishonest cities had dishonest light. Too bright or too dark. Always compensating for something." ​"And Lisbon," Scarlett said, her own voice softening to match his. ​"Honest light," he said. "She would have said it had honest light." ​Scarlett looked up at the streetlamps, really looking at them this time. She watched the way the amber glow didn't fight the shadows but seemed to lean into them, and how the dark between the lamps felt intentional, a place for the city to breathe. She looked at the tiles, which caught every stray glimmer and held it, turning the simple act of reflection into something deliberate and specific.