Galatea Stories Novels & Stories

"You're pretty smart." Gal glared, unable to say anything. She smacked Elena's arm. "You did that, Gal?" I stared at her in disbelief. "That's why you didn't come home that night?" Gal opened her mouth. "Yes." But Elena answered. "And she went to Hawaii not only with her fiancée, but also her mistresses." She continued. I opened my mouth in disbelief. Gal didn't look at me, pinching Elena brutally. "I don't believe this," I muttered, still in disbelief. But I don't want to judge her anymore because we're not that different. When she made love to Darren on the rooftop with the snow falling, I did it with her fiancé in my room.

"The Granite Gal does not move for the wind." She leaned her head against my knee, closing her eyes. For an hour, we sat in the dim light of the nursery. I told her stories of Navarino fables I made up on the spot about dragons who turned into mountains and weavers who hid secrets in their rugs. But as I spoke, I wasn't just telling stories. I was memorizing the scent of her hair. I was feeling the warmth of her body against my legs. I was Caleb, trapped in a tomb of my own making, watching the woman I loved find peace in the arms of a ghost.

Forty-eight lines of Atlantean script, each one a living sentence made of pressure and salt and the memory of drowning. They slam into me one after another. I scream. The first line: “The sea was lonely before it learned to bleed.” I feel every creature that ever died in the ocean, every ship that sank, every tear that fell into salt water. The second line: “Blood is water that learned to love.” I taste Poseidon’s regret—the day he gave the script to a mortal girl who looked too much like the daughter he lost to his own pride. The third through the twentieth: Stories of queens who tried and failed, cities that rose and fell, loves that turned to coral and bone.

*** CONTINUATION *** "I choose Pygmalion and Galatea," we nodded and listened to her, "Pygmalion is a sculptor and he hated women. For him, they didn't worth his time, and they didn't deserved to be wasted time of. He then made Galatea out of ivory. Galatea is prettier than any breathing women. And he fell in love in his own sculpted work. So, Aphrodite rewarded him after his sacrifice to her and brought Galatea to life. And they had a son which became one of the goddess's sacred cities, Paphos."

The ocean floor must've been a memory that held significance, and the way it stretched into desolate darkness indicated a glimpse into the unknown. Deciding to change the narrative, Galene carefully gathered her paints and laid out a few colors on her palette before picking up a small brush. Her neck still hurt, and she cautiously leaned in to sketch out a fish. Painting from forgotten memories, the Yellowtail took shape. As she worked, her thoughts turned to Stralath. He'd kept his word and stayed away, and she hated that she missed him. Miro accused Stralath of wanting to hurt Galene, but why did that discourse seem inaccurate. Yet, he'd confessed to that plan. Would he kill Galene if she

" He asked his eyes threatening to bulge out of his sockets. "No my Lord, it isn't your own Master Damien, it is another Master" Galene muttered fearfully and quickly wiped off the name on the drawing. "Another Master? Which other master bears Damien?" He asked pinning his gaze on her. "The mas...master in my grandmother's stories" Galene stuttered swallowing hard and pinning her gaze to the floor. "The master Damien in your grandmother's stories have horns and ugly, why does it bear my name? Master Damien asked again enjoying the fear in her eyes.

Gabe replied. “Okay, where did this Gallus come from?” Jake said as he joined the conversation with his arms crossed. “All we know is that we fought it in our hometown of Crescent Cove, and it was released from its prison—this idol. There are three more of these idols, and we’re not too sure if they’re actually prisons like the first.” “What do you mean there are more of those things?” Jake replied. “We just don’t know,” Brooke said, putting her hand on Gabe’s shoulder.

"It's Alexander, thank you. You may proceed." "So, according to the book which I told you about. It's called the Galaxus. It was compiled by ancient idols and spirits and poltergeists and many more. We had from Jove, Poseidon, and damn, I even got from the goddess of wisdom, Athene..." "Just cut to the chase, will you?"

Once Larissa was done, he explained, "You, Zayn, and Rachel all left Sisilia Island. Only Gale and Nadia are left. Gale is scary, so I didn't want to stay there and ran away." Finn glanced at Larissa. "Rissa, when are you going back to Sisilia Island? If you come back, Gale will stop being mean to me." Every time Galileo is brought up, Ambrose couldn't help but furrow his brow. He always felt that this person was special to Larissa; special enough to make him jealous. Larissa lightly flicked Finn's forehead. "Gale scolds you because you mess around with robots, right? Last time, the robot you made almost demolished the house. Have you forgotten about it?"

Luke gritted his teeth and I could see his expression became dark. Then he started opening the files Caleb sent him. The files were gruesome images of the girls Camila murdered. There were a total of 8. Miriana Watts, Allison Roberts, Cristina Davies, Samantha Evans, Angelica Jones, Henrietta Brown, Barbara Taylor and Galatea Vergara. Those are the names of the girls she killed. “Galatea Vergara?” I asked Luke, confused. “Yes, she used her last victim's identity after she escaped from the hospital.” Luke answered.