Half Book Novels & Stories

It was nice to have someone to talk about his romantic life with –semi pseudo paraplegic romance –even though it wasn't for free. It felt regular and archaic and old and a total cliché when he took his first step towards the man. He expected to feel something new, but it was still the same. From the ground floor elevator to the third floor where Hamilton's office was; the purple orchid that hung to right side of the door; the room thirty seven copper plated office number with Dr H. E. Greenfield boldly inscribed beneath, everything up unto this moment felt too predictable and strangely insipid.

Even if only half, I am a predator. Looking upwards at my apartment, I'm glad I have plans tonight. If I were inside all night, I could see myself drinking too much. That more than instant healing might be what saves me. The keys fumble, mimicking arthritis. I drop them again and again. Finally, I grasp them hard. It takes forever to get the door open.

After quickly returning to my room, I grabbed my new book, Half-Blood DNA and Why It's Superior to Pure Blood. It turned out that Maria was indeed there, stumbling over garments that were hanging on a rolling wardrobe.

My legs carry me inside, passing the shelves lined with books, stalking around the table, my fingers trailing over the smooth surface as I walk. My fingers paused on the worn edge of a familiar book with a crescent moon carved at the front, the one with no name. Picking it up, fall into the chair. I roll backward then turn around, with one hand, I push back the curtain, popped a foot under me, and I get comfortable, and start reading. The book is a short one, I finish it in an hour and a half, and I remain staring at the book afterward.

I mean half of the book. "Yeah, they said they were on their way," he responded and I nodded. "What now?" Winter took in a deep breath before relaxing on the sofa. "I don't know, but going through this, I don't think flora will be able to use the other half till the full potential without this half." I sighed scrolling through the pages of the book. "What do you mean, and how sure are you?" Jasper chipped in. "Well, this one is technically the continuation of a particular spell, I don't know why but u don't think they can make the sacrifice without this other half."

And nothing will ever change that. END OF BOOK TWO: DON'T LEAVE

Alys asked him quietly, as she ran her fingers over the carvings, staring at them in wonder. “This is a supernatural shop. Our warlock friend runs it and he sells all sorts of books on the different beings, as well as all manner of other things. I thought it would be good for you to come here and maybe we can get you a book on werewolf history so you can learn more on our species, and I am hoping to find one on Half Bloods.” Aiden explained. He knocked three times before turning the handle and walking in.

“Werewolf.” “Interesting,” the man mouthed whilst nodding his head slowly as he wrote some more things on the form. Harold felt uncomfortable. He was having a bad feeling about all of these. “Grade,” the man asked next. It seemed more like he was making a statement than asking for Harold's grade. “Second year,” Harold managed to say. “I got in last year.” The man wrote some more things for about ten seconds after. Still without looking up, the man handed him a pass.

“If you had eight and gave away half, how many would you have left?” Wesley counted on his fingers under the desk where he apparently thought I couldn’t see him. “Four.” “That’s a fraction. Four out of eight. Which we can also write as one half.” I wrote it out. “See?” He looked at the page then at me. Something shifted in his expression… the look of finally understanding something that was actually simple. “Oh.” “Yes.” I handed him back the pencil. “Try the next one the same way. Pick something else you like.”

The library was Cassie’s favorite room in the entire house. It was a lovely abode of books, smelling of old paper, leather, and woodsmoke. A massive stone fireplace dominated one wall, and a fire was roaring inside, casting shadows over the rows of old and limited-edition books. Outside, the rain poured in torrents. Rain lashed against the windows in sheets, and thunder rumbled low in the distance, shaking the floorboards. But inside, it was warm, a sharp contrast to the outside.