City Of Dreams Books Novels & Stories

The mothers gathered in her room, trembling, as Elena read aloud from the first chapter: “There is no such thing as a finished city.” She read to them every night, sometimes only a page, sometimes an entire chapter if the guards were sleeping light. The text was technical, at first—schematics and protocols for self-repairing cities, polities designed to reforest ruins, the old thought experiments of a time before the freeze. But then, buried deep, there were other things: wild, fictional instructions for making your own home from garbage and frost, seeds for growing bread in airless dark, stories of children who outlived not just catastrophe, but the memory of it.

M eyes are still stinging and his arms are still around me and outside the window the city is doing what cities do — indifferently carrying on, full of a million people with their own disasters and their own loves and their own moments of deciding to be reckless together. "Okay," I say, for the third time, and mean it differently each time. I fall asleep to the sound of his breathing and the distant ambient hum of a city that doesn't know or care that everything is about to change. I dream of nothing. For the first time in weeks, I dream of absolutely nothing — no crisis, no calculation, no seventeen missed calls from a man who shaped me and failed me simultaneously. Just sleep. Just this ro

The paper fell away, revealing an old leather-bound volume, its cover embossed with faded gold lettering in a language that looked like a mix of Latin and something far older. “Tah — Rituals of the Eternal Flame and Flesh.” A sex god. Not just any fertility deity — a lost god of desire, ecstasy, and carnal dominion. The dealer’s notes had been vague, but the title alone sent heat rushing through me. I opened the book carefully. The pages were thick vellum, illuminated with intricate drawings of a towering male figure with glowing eyes, surrounded by writhing bodies in states of rapturous abandon. As I turned the first page, a faint warmth spread through the room. The watching feeling returne

About favorite foods. About cities we wanted to visit. About dreams we had buried long ago. Eventually we drifted back to the bed bodies still humming hearts full. Life felt possible again.

Wayne's desperate search for his wife had been all over the news, so when he mistook a stranger for Arden, everyone thought he had finally lost his mind. Even his closest friend, Dorian James, wondered if Wayne had gone mad. After all, the woman standing before them was the Henley family's heiress, and she didn't look like Arden at all. Sensing Vincent's rising temper, Dorian quickly tugged on Wayne's sleeve and whispered, "Wayne, you really are mistaken. She's the Henley heiress."

Dominic who hadn't picked Piper up since their breakup, who said he'd come for her when he had time. She'd forgotten to get Piper. The thought scraped at her mind like sandpaper. She tucked the phone away. The afternoon stretched thin. The sky darkened, blood - red bleeding through clouds. That night, sleep was fire. The dream ripped her under — no calm descent, only flames. A city burning. Ash falling like snow. Shadows where people used to be. Buildings tumbling like toys. In the center stood a girl, barefoot in the soot. Her white dress stained red at the hem.

"Books are full of manipulations. They can either have two types of approach; influence unscrupulousness or in beneficial manner. It looks as if ye have a different kind of approaching a book. Pardon me, I have no certainty for love." "Yer hard luck I must say, yer life knows neither escapade nor exuberance. Ye live an uninspiring verve, dear brother." "Never believe in what the city people assures you, but believe my words for I have seen what life can do. I know what's outside this place, it can only endanger your soul. The elites have no heart, no heart at all. They may pretend to be your friend but only to put your life in misery. People are more cruel than animals."

Eighteen years ago. Book II Dream

,sans-serif; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} It had been a long day at work. Gaia scurried down the alleyway near her apartment building, hoping to cut a few minutes off her commute home. Gaia rarely enjoyed going this way at night. The streetlights cast an eerie glow against the line of garage doors which gave her an unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach. It didn't help that she'd been having odd dreams for several months, and sometimes, they seemed so real, she wasn’t sure she was actually dreaming.

That's how it happened, initially, she had an urge, her desire that would be appeased by her curiosity was corroding all her common sense, no one listened or heeded the warnings, that there was something in her that wasn't. In the end, she discovered that she was not attracted to humans, he never approached that, all of this was a range of desires, in which each of the visitors attracted to that cursed city, full of promises, in addition to curing diseases, if getting rid of pain, which they never thought of returning. Initially, everything there seemed crazy, but as a girl who was an avid fan of the paranormal, it wasn't, everyone in those cities, lived crazy lives, moments of life, everyon