Novel & Cerita Fiction

Sky asked as Lannagot up off the couch and headed back to her bedroom "Oh, aunt queen Lanna told me, oh and tomorrow she said we should go to a place called the hard rock cafe for chocolate fudge cake." She then closed the bedroom door leaving us all stund. THE END.

So ever since, she has been living with my family since mom refuses to give her up to the social welfare. Again! You must think that I talk too much but Nah, I just love explaining in detail. It is my job anyway, after all, I am a writer. Not popular yet but come on, Rome is not built in a day. And of course, I have a side hustle which is journalism. I work as a freelance but I don't want to be committed to it since I'm more of a fantasy person than that of reality. And yeah, you must have heard peace and I talking about some guy and his family.

We didn't let the darkness win. END OF VOLUME ONE

And did I mention it's the same knife from which he carved my body with his initials? Within few seconds my mind come up with thousand of memories and possibilities that can happen right. Even though I had fair share of ideas and possibilities that more probably be my faith yet I wasn't so sure if which one was about to happen or if there are more scenarios that my mind cannot grape at. Though with the thousands of emotions and words colliding inside of my skull one thing was for sure and that was, I'm doomed... My apprehension about the nearby future about my faith was answered within seconds as he rested his Sharpe tiny knife against the sensitive flesh of my skin.

I sighed "I have a story to tell you." "You’re always telling me the same story." He whispered a bit audible "Not this time I won’t, it’s very interesting, I’m sure you will love it," I said while grabbing the storybook kept on the table. "This looks interesting." I opened to the first page "Once upon a time, there lived three children, Kyle, Lucas, and Charles. They are best friends, they always spend time together until…." "It’s boring." "Okay, I will narrate another story." I grabbed the other storybook and began narrating it

 ~AUTHOR'S POV~

And I treat many people to coffee and tea for free - no need to worry about this. The coffee machine rattled noisily, grinding beans. —Where is your section with horror literature? Thrillers? “Everywhere,” Yuna looked around at all the shelves in her field of vision. — We have a shop with a narrow specialization, there is practically no popular literature, especially sentimental prose, women’s fantasy and ironic detective stories. But there is a variety of alternatives, horror, mysticism, thrillers, dystopias. In general, we buy everything that other stores take for testing sales. With second-hand books, things are similar.

Тургенев, Рудин. КНИ́ГА, -и, ж. 1. Произведение печати (в старину — также рукопись) в виде сброшюрованных, переплетенных вместе листов с каким-л. текстом. Книга большого формата. Толстая книга. Раскрыть книгу. □ [Аночке] предложили посмотреть книгу с картинками. Федин, Первые радости. || Сочинение, произведение более или менее значительного объема, напечатанное отдельным изданием или предназначенное для него. Интересная книга. Написать книгу. □ Наталья должна была каждое утро читать исторические книги, путеш ествия и другие назидательные сочинения. Тургенев, Рудин.

Neither one spoke for a few moments; they simply stared at one another, at a loss of what to do next. Rick cleared his throat again, and that seemed to break the spell. “I’ve got spy thrillers and murder mysteries over here, by author,” he managed, gesturing to the right. “Next sections down the right side are sci-fi, romance, and the other fictional genres. Left side is all the nonfiction, biographies, and so on.” Faith chuckled.

I flip it open under the flashlight of my phone. …bloodline gift… men of our line may carry if seeded by kin… the stronger the bond, the surer the conception… I actually laugh out loud. Some old-timey incest fertility myth? Hilarious. Footsteps on the stairs. I slam the journal shut just as Levi’s head appears. “Everything okay up here?” he asks, voice low. “Yeah! Just… settling in.” I shove the journal under the mattress like I’m hiding p**n. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, sweat still glistening on his chest in the moonlight. “Find anything interesting?”