Garwood Novels & Stories

“Hello, Madam, what do you need? These are our latest nephrite.” The shopkeeper walked out with a Boccaro teapot. He was wearing a pair of gold-rimmed glasses and was looking at Wynn from head to toe. Wynn did not waste any time. She took out the card Giada gave her from her bag and handed it to the shopkeeper. She said, “I want to see her.” When the shopkeeper saw the card, he took it nonchalantly. After he saw the logo and the simple ‘Wallis’ printed on the card, he was stunned.

I raised an eyebrow but stayed quiet. “What is the passcode?” a voice asked from the other side. Carl smiled. “Two hockey gays,” he whispered back. The heavy black gate creaked open. From the outside, the place looked completely abandoned. Shabby paint, dusty windows, and a faded sign that said it was a shoe mender. But the moment we stepped through the dark tunnel inside, everything changed. We were led into the most breathtaking garden I had ever seen. Hidden flowers bloomed everywhere, soft lights twinkled in the trees, and gentle music floated through the air.

In Harford City, the sky was overcast—a dull, heavy gray that mirrored the solemnity of the day. The air carried the scent of incense and fresh flowers, clinging to everything like a memory refusing to fade. The Moore family stood before the twin graves of Benjamin and Vivianne Moore. The marble headstones were tall, pristine, unyielding. Their names carved into stone remained untouched by time, yet they had shaped every second of Grayson’s life.

At night, Jeffrey wanted to take me to a party at a wine manor. In these years together, I rarely had time to go out. He was happy for me not to see outsiders. The party was gorgeous. Jeffrey seemed to be in a good mood. Until Joanna, who was in muddy shoes, pushed open the door. On the way to the house, she hit the large grape vines. The grape vines were the raw material for the next season's wine-making, and Kash Pearson, the manor owner, changed his face.

Pearl's unique scent, carried on the wind, was a constant temptation, teasing his senses and testing his resolve. As the wind blew, Pearl's long, curly brown hair danced around her face, releasing a concentrated dose of her scent directly into Eden's nostrils. His sharp jawline clenched, a subtle sign of his growing frustration. "You should walk faster, we won't get to town at this slow pace," he said coldly, his voice a deliberate attempt to distract himself from the allure of Pearl's scent.

The cemetery held such a powerful mix of emotions—energy, sadness, and heaviness—that left me in awe. I moved the light over the area, revealing a towering tomb that dominated the back right corner. The moonlight cast eerie shadows, adding to the mystique. It was exactly where the star on the map had indicated. The name Gomez was carved into the highest point of the mausoleum in a font reminiscent of Old English. A small plaque on the side of the structure, covered in mineral buildup from years of weathering, displayed six names with middle initials.

Her striking white hair, a mark of her lineage, was a source of pride, not something to be concealed. Nestled in the heart of the Appalachian Mountains, Silver Cove was a quaint town where time seemed to stand still. The town was surrounded by lush greenery, with rolling hills and babbling brooks that meandered through the countryside. The main street was lined with charming storefronts, their facades adorned with colorful flower baskets that overflowed with blooms in the springtime.

Flora parked her car in the small open lot adjacent to "The Daily Grind," a quaint, family-owned bistro tucked away on a quiet street. The bistro’s charm was undeniable, with its warm yellow exterior and vibrant red awnings that fluttered gently in the morning breeze. A hand-painted sign hung above the entrance, adorned with whimsical depictions of croissants and coffee cups. The sidewalk was lined with lush flower boxes, overflowing with colorful blooms that added to the inviting atmosphere.

Even the common homes are finer than before, made of grown quartz or marble and shaped for the needs of each resident. Even the scarred fields seem to be coming back to life. Smiling, I let my fingers brush against a hedge of starflower jasmine. We had a bush like this back at home in Ridgewood Manor. It was one of Primus’ favorites, a wedding gift from the Celestials to the Imperial City upon the marriage of their monarchs.

All she could manage were soft, broken sniffles as her mind raced with fear over what was to come. "The restaurant is just ahead," Donovan informed her, his tone taking on a casual quality that belied the tension in the car. "But—" he added, turning onto a less-traveled road, "I had to change our course." Boma glanced up, spotting a gated entrance ahead. It was blocked off from the main street, a large billboard towering above them reading Garret Palms. Her heart sank further. She knew that name. The Garret family was prominent, owning a large palm oil business that dealt with exports. The land stretched far, covered in neatly planted palm trees, the orchard a picture of peace and tranquilit