Novel & Cerita Dead Plate Art Book

"The second is The Whispering Void. A psychological world. It attacks your mind directly, bypassing physical defenses entirely. It shows you your fears, your failures, your worst possible futures, and it makes them feel absolutely real. You'll experience every trauma you've ever suppressed, every nightmare you've tried to forget, every anxiety amplified to unbearable levels. Deadies have been known to go completely, irreversibly insane within minutes of entering. You'll need to cross it in four hours while maintaining your sanity and sense of direction in absolute darkness." The second image was somehow worse in its simplicity. Just darkness. Absolute darkness that seemed to move, to breathe

LILY'S POV “Hello? Yes, Mrs. Calloway, I’m still here…Sorry, the line cut for a second,” I said, pressing the phone between my shoulder and ear as I rummaged through a drawer for my sketchbook. The wedding planner’s voice crackled through the line, cheerful and rushed. “No problem, dear. I just wanted to confirm your floral arrangement…you mentioned wanting lilies, right?” “Yes….white lilies and maybe a touch of blush roses around the altar…. Liam loves lilies,” I said, smiling unconsciously as I balanced my coffee cup in one hand and a pen in the other.

Yam sliced it open slowly, hands trembling. Inside was their book. “The Art of Staying.” Cover: a sunflower. A crooked shelf. Two mugs—one chipped. And behind it all, the suggestion of a fan, mid-spin. Franc stared at it like it might whisper back. “Feels unreal,” Yam said. Franc flipped through pages. Some with artwork. Others with Yam’s poetry. Their story—wired beginnings and all—now bound in matte finish. “I think this book breathes,” Franc said.

Boxes appeared from cupboards. Folders emerged from shelves. Sketchbooks surfaced from places she'd forgotten existed. Soon the living room floor disappeared beneath years of artwork. Sophie sat cross-legged among the chaos. "Wow." Jessica looked up. "What?" "You really don't see it, do you?" Jessica frowned. "See what?" Sophie held up a sketchbook. Pages filled with charcoal drawings. People. Faces. Emotion. Pain. Beauty. Stories. "You." Jessica laughed. "That's not me." "It absolutely is."

Chapter 1: The Midnight Invitation My heart hammered wildly in my chest as I pushed open the heavy glass door of the gallery, the cool night air clinging to my skin like a whispered secret. Rain fell in a gentle veil outside, softening the city lights into a dreamy haze that mirrored the turmoil inside me. I wasn’t supposed to be here this late, alone with my sculptures and an enigmatic stranger who had offered more money than I had seen in years for my most intimate piece. But curiosity—and something deeper, a restless hunger I’d buried beneath layers of clay and long hours in the studio—had pulled me here like a moth to flame.

Astrid went to the very corner of the library where the books that belong to the mystery section were located, she was fond of reading mystery genre books as well as horror. She already has many collections at home but she wants to explore more. "Nice," her eyes were fixed on a book when she read its title. "Arts of Death, photography and reasons." Her attention was immediately hooked by it so she hurried and picked it up and brought it to the selected table. Many things were bothering her mind while opening the book. The feeling of enthusiasm-her eyes sparked upon seeing the pictures from the book, trying to focus her eyes to the left page wherein a dead bird being pinned in a transparent w

I shivered. "What is a Hybrid Corpse Seeker," Rai asked fearfully. I jumped off my bed and asked him what he did with my book collection. He pointed to the closet and I headed inside of it searching for a very old grimoire. When I found the human skin bound book I carried it to him and sat on the mattress as I flipped through the delicate pages. Once I found what I was looking for I opened it wide and read the information out loud. Hybrid Corpse Seeker

"Art is not what you see, but what you make others see." - Edgar Degas. -Kimani Trinity Campbell - I stared intensely at the canvas in front of me, the oil paint still wet and glistening in the dim light of my studio. I was lost in thought, trying to figure out what was missing from the artwork. It was a beautiful piece, depicting the city skyline at night, with the tall buildings lit up like beacons against the dark sky. Despite all the detail and care I had put into it, I could not shake the feeling that something was missing.

They also brighten up the hair and the lips and really compliment the rest of her face. By then she excitedly began to chatter exuberantly about her collection. "I got excited because the painting behind you was made by Death. A mysterious artist who paints crime arts. And that painting ..." Sumire pointed at the painting behind the young man. She was still sitting on his lap while her left hand was resting on the man's chest and her right hand was pointing at the painting. Mr. Aslanov was leaned against on the backrest of the swivel chair and he tightened his grip on the maiden's waist so that she may not fall over on the side when she recklessly moved on top of him. "... is called the "Vul

It transforms the adventure through my collection into something truly extraordinary! ASIN: B0DQ81GWJC ACKNOWLEDGMENTS I want to express my heartfelt gratitude to my talented art designer, Rebekah, for the stunning digital paintings, that you can find on my P*******t page just by searching Unusualdee, and the beautiful book cover. A special thanks goes to Light and Gem for their invaluable feedback as my Beta readers. I also deeply appreciate all the other wonderful members of the SBAR (Smut Book Avid Reader) club for their unwavering support throughout the journey of compiling these smut stories. Your encouragement means the world to me.