Fantastic Fiction Novels & Stories

Both the pre-ruin and the post-ruin, I wasn't ready for any of it. My movements came to a halt when my gaze flitted across the street and landed on the poster of the new Fantasy series I had been waiting on; All the Beautiful Things. It was a trilogy. All the beautiful things are red, All the beautiful things are gold, and All the beautiful things are black. It was more like Romantasy actually. A wide grin crept up my face and I looked sideways, before slipping towards the bookstore even though I knew there was no car in sight. Volxe bookstore.

Maggie laughed and with a wave, shut the door. Indeed she had a club and Phoenix’s Claws, her club was her biggest achievement this year. She would not let anything get between her club and her. Not even the gorgeous and dangerous Theodore Cyneric, she vowed and with that thought, Cathy turned away from the window and headed to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

Thоse were just superstitiоus fairy tales, ghоst stоries fоr yоung сhildren. The damp fabriс оf the thin nightgоwn, whiсh reaсhed dоwn tо the ankles, stuсk tо her bоdy, thus underlining the соntrast between her flat stоmaсh and slender legs соmpared tо the lusсiоus female сurves in exaсtly the right plaсes. Her nipples stооd up in the сооl and squeezed themselves сlearly under the fine shirt.

She had wanted to write a Fantasy novel to break away from her writer's block or rather the huge boredom she had developed from writing too much romance. Well maybe the strange creature lurking in her dreams may have also inspired he rash decision but was she going to tell Ray? No. She was going to write Fantasy gor sure. Maybe about a Werewolf? She wasn't sure but it was time to do her research.

How can we put an end to this if we don’t stay away from each other? We were not in any kind of relationship, but when I write my diary entry that night, it feels like I’ve been jilted. I strike through the whole entry, determined not to let him mar my sexy fantasies. Just because I stopped acting on these fantasies doesn’t mean I can’t write them. This time, I’m writing from experience. When Rhys touches me in my fantasies, I feel his touch as though it were real, the scent of his skin when he embraces me so unadulterated that the lines between imagination and reality start to blur.

“Make it a good one.” “Oh, I shall!” it chittered, and with a flourish, it conjured a new narrative pocket in our world. This one wasn't tiny. It was a full-scale, shimmering mirage that overlay a corner of the garden. It depicted a classic, sweeping fantasy epic—knights, dragons, a quest for a glowing mcguffin. But something was off. The knight kept tripping over his own cloak. The dragon was afraid of heights. The glowing mcguffin was just a very persuasive lightbulb.

As Misty clumsily fumbled for her keys when she went to open the door, the older gentleman said, “Excuse me, ma’am, I have this for you.” There I saw it, the beautiful golden envelope he placed in my hand as he walked away made me feel like I was flying. It was like someone had given me a breath for the first time, and I could not wait to open theenvelope to find out when the next beautiful person's party was. By the time I got inside, I had collapsed on the couch without ever opening the invitation to this realm of debauchery and pure bliss that I was now a part of. ******

This is a work of dark fantasy fiction and should be read with an open mind and a clear understanding of its mature and controversial themes. Happy Reading ! You can follow my F******k page, Mia X Novels and I*******m Account: miaxnovels, for more stories !

Sprinted to the door, I pulled it open, not expecting it to open, but it did, causing my heart to swell in joy. Ambling to the shelf, my eyes darted round the various book covers. Fiction was my favorite book to read because the best thing about reading was to be able to escape from your life, to be able to read hundreds or even thousands of other lives. Non-fiction does not have that power, it does not change you the way fiction does. To me, if you are not affected somehow, even if it is the slightest change, you are not reading the right book. I would love to think that every novel I have read has become a part of me and created who I am in a sense.

he replied simply, adjusting his glasses. I rolled my eyes. “You need help. Here—” I reached for one of the novels from the table beside me, one that was light and funny. “Try reading something that won’t make your brain combust.” He raised an eyebrow. “Fiction?” “Yes, fiction,” I said, placing it in his hand. “You know, made-up stories with emotions, imagination, and people who do ridiculous things for love?” He opened the first page, his expression unreadable. For the next few minutes, the only sound was the crackle of the fire and the rustle of turning pages. Then, suddenly—