Cut It Off Book Novels & Stories

This is a note to let you know that I'll start updating the chapters immediately when I finish my other ongoing book(Between Mafia Lines) in less than two weeks. But there's another reason for this note, it's to inform you that If you've added this book to your library before 12, TUESDAY, NOVEMBER, 2024, Please do remove it from your library and add it back. If you're uncertain about the date, you can do the same to be on the safe side.

But now it’s lying in the center of my bed, open. I step towards it slowly, half-afraid it might suddenly flap its covers like wings and start flying around the room like an emerald green butterfly. With all the other madness going on around here, it would hardly be surprising. But the book lies still as a tombstone, the faded black ink staring up at me as I reach down to touch the thin paper. There’s a page missing. The jagged remnants of a torn page stick out from the spine, a clear sign that someone ripped a page out.

Please support the book! Thank you so much!!!!!

He casually tossed my long, thick locks into the trash. I stood there frozen for a moment, then hurried over to pick up the pieces of my hair. Tears streamed down my face. At that moment, I made a decision—I was going to leave Caleb. … I went to a barber shop and had my head shaved clean. While I was at it, I took advantage of a hotel's discount package. When I returned to pack my things, Caleb walked in, looking completely exhausted. The moment he saw the suitcase in my hand, his expression darkened. He stormed over and kicked the suitcase out of the way.

"And right before graduation, you had her final project deleted. Sharon Cartier missed out on an award because of it, and Leah got dragged into an empty classroom and had her hand broken." "Counting this time, that makes ninety-three. Just six more, and it'll be enough to put together a confession book for Vivi. She'll be moved to tears when she sees how dedicated you are!" A wave of nausea slammed into me. The love I thought was heaven-sent turned out to be nothing but cold, calculated revenge. I tried to leave, but my body—still weak from surgery—gave out, and I crashed to the floor. Pain ripped through me as the incision tore open, blood soaking my gown.

I said as I moved to a stool to sit. Cool, I wonder how. I looked more and saw a small transparent ball held up by brace on the book, below the title. 'I think I have to put my blood in it .' I thought. I brought. Out my necklace which I tucked into my top. My mother told me not to ever remove it...... Reason have no clue. I leaned forward, put my index finger on top of the ball and used the pendant to cut my finger to let blood into it. It stored the blood and the book opened. I read and read on vegetarian. And finally how to break the fast.

If that is the case I’m going to spoil everyone about the— “CUT CUT CUT!” Ahh this is so embarrassing. Please leave a good review for my sake too. Until then happy reading. ^-^

The book was opened, walking with the breeze sending my hair dancing behind me. The sounds got louder, my head picking up sure I was so near to my tree. My face fell along with the book I was carrying as I ran with my heart as if to break. My beautiful tree, my lovely tree. They had cut it, they cut it. The tears filled my eyes, as if they cut a part of my soul. Why? Why? They cut it so short, kneeling on the tree trunk, just one clean cut. My hand came to my chest as my tear fell on the tree. I shook my head, wiping away my tears.

I lived it. I flipped frantically to the center of the book to find this prophecy, but my fingers hit a sharp, jagged edge. The page had been ripped out. It was a clean, intentional cut. On the tiny sliver of paper left in the binding, I could just barely make out a few words in a dark, ink-stained script: “...the human mate would be the only one to stop the reincarnation of The Myth.” My blood ran cold. Why would a "fiction" book be censored so violently?

I said and she grabbed it and read it for herself. “… slit your throat from right to left, you will feel like you’re dying, but you won’t be, you’ll start to heal and you will lose consciousness as the last evil leaves your body. You will need someone there with you to hold the bowl in front of your throat as you cut it, to catch the blood.” She lowered the book as she looked at me with big eyes. “I can’t keep reading this,” she said, physically hurting at the thought of what I had to do. I took the book from her and kept on reading.