Coral Cottage Novels & Stories

“I can’t believe it! Oh my god! I’m going to be a millionaire. I’ve earned so much money in one go. How am I going to spend it? Once I fulfill these orders, I’m going to travel the world and stay in the presidential suite every day. I’m going to put my favorite lipstick, bags, and heels on display in the presidential suite!” Charlotte giggled. “You’re being silly, Cora. Why would you stay in the presidential suite with all the money you now have? You might as well buy yourself a villa and put your favorite things on display.” “I don’t care. I’m going to stay in the presidential suite. I’m going to fill it with my favorite lipsticks…” Coraline rambled incoherently. Charlotte was happy for Cor

He called out as he fixed himself a cup of coffee. The Cottage was a large one with five rooms and bathrooms. It was built on the only highest solid ground on the island. Daphne had told me that it was called the Cage Cottage by the townspeople. Due to the location of the place, aquaculture was what brought in the income. "Milk and raspberries!" Daphne yelled from her room. "Ditto!" Simon yelled back and downed his coffee in a few gulps. He nodded at me and walked to where he took his coat. He put it on his plain blue buttoned up shirt and corduroy trousers before opening the door to leave.

It was also the secret location of the Sea Mackie Clan, who had guarded the Ruins Sea for generations. Everyone, no matter Ambrose, Eira, or the Blood Shark Pirates, who landed on Coral Island were in awe when they saw the spectacular island scenery; they sang praises for the magnificent Creator. The huge Coral Island was not made up of land but pieces of conjoined corals. Those corals ranged from half a meter to tens of meters high. There was a variety of species, and one was unique in its colors. They gleamed in beautiful shades under the sun. The Sea Mackie Clan lived in a huge shell built on top of a colony of corals. From a distance, the structure looked like it was straight out from a

I said. The cottage sat up on a hill overlooking the harbour. White walled, it was in fairly good condition with a grassy path that led down to the beach. The black rocks around the cliffs had turned orange, crusted with the tiny shells of long-dead sea creatures, stained by the seaweed that rotted all along the shore. We gained access with my skeleton key and found an interior that had been decorated with comfort in mind. It had one bedroom, a kitchen and a lounge. The latter housed a television; a CD player with speakers and a small fax/photocopying machine but surprisingly no landline telephone. On one lounge wall was a large cross-stitched tapestry of John Constable’s The Hay Wain

They traveled light, but not unprepared. By evening, they had checked into the Coral Reef Retreat, a modest yet scenic resort along the southern coast near the invisible border. Tourists milled around in beachwear, sipping fruit drinks and taking photos of the moonlit ocean. No one gave a second glance to the mild-mannered couple with their two quiet children, who smiled politely and claimed they were here to study coastal vegetation and salt-resistant flora.

Neel thinks. Suddenly the car stopped. They get out and keep walking until they find the cottage. Rain has stopped then. Anybody can say the cottage has been abandoned for a long time now by the look of it. There have been hill grasses all around it. It seems as if not even a single trace of somebody has been here for years. "It does look spooky." Neel says. "I told you, you won't like it." She replies. She stares at the cottage as if she got lost in some flashbacks. She startles when Neel says, "what are you looking at? Let's go inside."

He nodded. My stomach lurched. Was she about to disappear into a pillar of flame and leave us stranded on an island in the Inner Hebrides? “Excuse me?” I blurted. Coral turned around and raised her brows. “How are you getting back to the mainland?” “Come with me.” Coral walked us around the cave’s exterior, which turned out to be part of a larger body of land called Staffa.

I had stumbled upon the cottage by chance on my first day here while picking up a glittering shell. I was traipsing along the beach after having booked a room at a cheap hotel and left my luggage there. The cottage was a fairly secure place and not visible from the beach thanks to the vegetation and palm trees that obscured it. I had only seen it by chance and had walked up to it.

“Where we are staying is up to you, you can choose either one of the cottages. And don’t worry – we have arranged separate beds for us. And as for the restaurant, the staff will return by boat when we need them” The thought of sharing a cottage with them is a little nerve wracking. I have barely even had sleepovers with Millie. Let alone 2 incredibly handsome men, who happen to be my mates. ‘Hmmmmm. And men they are indeed…’. ‘Horn dog’. ‘Horn dragon, thank you very much’. Snapping myself back from my horny dragon’s thoughts, I make my choice. “The cottage in the water”. Aiden and Asher seem pleased with the decision as well, and we continue our path towards the boat. They release my hands t

We'd rest when we got there. Cambria appeared as the sky started to lighten. A small coastal town that looked like it had been assembled from a postcard collection. Main street with local shops. A bakery with a chalkboard sign. A hardware store with a flag out front. Houses spread along the hillside above a stretch of rocky coast where the ocean hit the shore in steady, rhythmic crashes that I could hear through the car windows even before I parked. The cottage was at the end of a quiet road. Small. White paint, slightly weathered. A porch with two chairs and a view of the water through a gap in the neighboring houses. The key was under a ceramic pot near the front step, exactly where Naomi