From Cradle To Grave Book Novels & Stories

I have now come to the end of book one of my Cursed by the gods series. It has been a long journey I'm not gonna lie. I lost commitment along the way of writing this book, lost inspiration, even changed the plan I initially had for it. I am really glad that I got to finish it and if you stayed till the end I just want to say thank you for even choosing this book in the first place. I will start with the second book as soon as possible and do my best to make that one better. I hope I have been able to tell you a good story dear readers and once again I thank you for reading Cursed by the gods. Thank you.

“Thank you. I was starting to think you’d make me wait forever.” Hey everyone!! Please joing my Facebook page Jessica White Author Page or follow me on Instagaram @author_j_white for upcoming works and giveaways. Also, I'd love it if you gave my other stories a try. I have an 8 book series (so far) of stand alone stories, but only four are on Goodnovels right now. I should have the others up soon. The Series is -Tessa Ignites -Tessa's Wolves -Cursed -Hexom -The Ranger -The Darke King

As though they can get dressed simply by gazing down. Mrs. Jen takes a book from the table and places it in her hand. The book had the appearance of being twenty years old, was wired with tree roots, and was a dark brown colour. "This is the book from which I learned about so many incidents, many of them included poisoning or murdering someone while they were sleeping. I was also taught how to treat some of the more serious injuries, such as having a riped skull or being roasted to death till their skin turned crimson." Jen clarifies.

November 27th My name is Leyanne Cruden, I have graced these lands for what feels like an eternity, although compared to humans I guess I have lived that. I have persevered through some of the worst and best decades and now I find myself in present day, the 2020’s. I keep this journal wherever I go to record my thoughts and feelings, my memories, so that my mind can let go of the mundane yet never lose a way to reminisce because I have lived hundreds of lifetimes. I hope that one day all that remains of me are these memories and I would have finally found peace in death, although it seems unlikely.

He has never done anything to me, other than give me blank looks, as if I did not exist, but there is something about that asshole that never smelled good to me. St. Cadence was the best orphanage in England, but the information was basically unknown, as it was way up north and it was on an enormous old 500-year-old castle not even the Queen wanted to have, on a hill, by the sea. So, she turned into what it is today. And all the kids that are left here, seem to be forgotten by society. I have wondered for too many years why was I left here, my theories went from being some royal’s bastard child, to being someone from the village nearby who had no money to raise me. It became boring to think

Kendra sat in the library with the book, The Hobbit, opened on her lap. When Rex had first shown the room that was lined with books to her, she’d been both intimidated and overwhelmed. She was taught to read by Olga, but the availability of reading material was limited. Therefore, her reading skills were wanting.

"Someone stole my firstborn... and convinced me to spend sixteen years raising the wrong child. I have spent years bleeding for the borders of this territory, believing in the honor of our vanguard, while the truth was being chewed away by moths and traitors." He reached the central shelf and grabbed a massive, iron-bound leather ledger. The book was nearly three feet wide, its spine cracked and peeling from decades of handling. Marcus dragged it from the alcove and slammed it down onto the reading table in the center of the room. The impact sent a shockwave of dust into the air, catching the silver light of Elena's palms and twisting like ghosts in the dark.

Even if you die, everyone would just hold a grudge against you for bringing the samples with you. "If you beg, Zachary and I might feel generous enough to go collect your corpse." My silence only earned sharper mockery. Zachary spoke coldly, "Before you die, remember to put those samples back into the car. Luna still needs them for her merit, you know? "Besides, if you hold it while you die, who knows what bad karma it's going to bring for a pregnant woman like her?" The samples… I had found them through countless observations, nearly exhausting myself in the process, and now they wanted to take even that from me.

A record of everything they'd been through, everything they'd learned, everything they wanted to pass on. "I want to make sure our story survives," she said. "That future generations can learn from our mistakes and our triumphs." Morwen read the first chapters, her eyes glistening. "This is beautiful. You've captured everything." "I've captured part of it. There's so much more to tell." --- The book grew chapter by chapter. Clara wrote about the early days, the conspiracy, the healing. She wrote about love, about loss, about the power of hope. It was a testament to everything they'd experienced and everything they'd become.

Because the Graveyard wasn’t just going to let us linger and admire our handiwork. The moment the librarian lost cohesion, the world remembered it had another job: containment. The small cracks in the ground we’d seen earlier split wider. Whole rows of headstones tilted, then crashed into the paper sea, sending up waves of pages. The ink, which had withdrawn a little under my earlier push, surged back with renewed hunger. It poured out from under toppled coffin‑books, boiling up through the ripped floor of paper in slick geysers. It flowed toward us in advancing fronts, swallowing scattered manuscripts, lapping at the bases of stones, climbing, ready to reclaim everything we’d just wrestled