Holocaust Novel Night Novels & Stories

The musty scent of old paper and dust hung heavy in the deserted back corner of the university library. Isabel hunched over a scarred wooden table, the only light coming from the harsh glare of her laptop screen. Rain lashed against the high, narrow windows, mirroring the storm raging inside her. The cracked remnants of her phone lay discarded beside her like broken promises. Jenna’s words – “He’ll never believe you… you’ll be alone… with nothing but that bastard child”– echoed like a poison in her mind, but beneath the horror, a new sensation pulsed: a cold, hard kernel of resolve.

"You'll always have the right to tell me to stop." When he lowered his lips to mine, I didn't flinch. Even when pain mingled with the pleasure and I lost my breath, he never hurried me like Giovanni would. He would stroke my back until I relaxed. Afterward, he cradled me in his arms. He gently combed my hair with his fingers. "Are you alright?" I nodded and burrowed against his chest. "Better than alright. I never knew it could actually be… good." … The next morning, I woke from a nightmare.

In remembrance! In remembrance! Lord Nox, the God of War, succumbed to the siege by the Ten Nations and perished in the treacherous Ocean of Death. The battleground witnessed not only the staining of azure waters but also a sea adorned with lifeless forms, as Lord Nox, with unmatched prowess, faced and conquered the formidable lions of the Ten Nations.Contrary to popular belief attributing Lord Nox's demise to the collective might of the Ten Nations, the truth unfolds that the one responsible for extinguishing his life was none other than the woman who held the deepest place in his heart.In the passage of time, Nox Greenshade stood atop the towering peaks, gazing upon the vast expanse below

“It is in the height of night, not morning, but these creatures are smart and think a bit ahead. Maybe they were hungry.” “Gods . . . ” Ralta gasped and shook his head. Back to his figures, Gaius suggested, “You’d best get a proper move on with that pyre, Ralta.” Though Ralta pondered his meaning, he turned away from the scribe with speed and did just that. ***

I had a good laugh. Holy crap, this guy doesn’t even belong in this world. Zion is not normal. I took off my clothes and sat close to him while we ate the lasagna. I was taken aback by the fact that despite the fact that I was already full when I arrived here; I decided to continue eating with him. After finishing the lasagna, I became suddenly drowsy. I placed a pillow under my head as I laid down on the couch to maintain my equilibrium. The night had fallen before I even realized it. ******

She would hide them under the couches during the day and bring them out at night . "It's cold isn't it? I'll go get us some blankets." Nova whispers, finding solace in the snores that could be heard from their mother's bedroom. It was a chilly evening , nonetheless the faint sunlight shone upon the ground , lighting up the dirt of the streets . Nova's hands push open the creaky front door , freezing as it made more noise than usual . She looks around , wondering if she had accidentally woken up her mother . When no sounds were out of place , she sighed with relief and slipped out with a gentle closing of the door.

It was her people that had done this, had loosed the monster because their grief had been too huge for them to carry. Lauren let it wash over her. She didn’t want to dismiss it, but it wasn’t the time for it to weigh on her, either. She needed to get away. She needed to survive. Mayor Touhy, though, didn’t seem to experience the surge of memory. And that is because Mayor Touhy has known all along. He’d known, and done nothing about it. Or rather, he’d facilitated it. That came to her, too, the knowledge that every November he drew the name of a girl from Smiths Hollow, and let her go out into the night to be sacrificed.

He even pulled up a rough-hewn stool and settled in. “What happened that night?” He asked. I hesitated for a minute not knowing where to begin or if I even had the strength to speak. Then I began to speak. I recounted the events after the pack gathering, the walk home with Hallie that had taken a terrifying turn. We had stumbled upon a wounded werewolf near the edge of our territory.

So I stay close enough to the surface to hear it coming. The cabin was cold in the way mountain cabins got cold when autumn decided it was done pretending to be summer. The fire had gone out around three in the morning and I hadn't bothered to restart it. Cold didn't trouble me the way it troubled most. One of the smaller advantages of what I was, what Silver Dawn had made me, or maybe what I'd always been and the Circle had simply named and handed back to me with a training manual attached. I lay on my back in the narrow cot and ran the day's report through my head the way I always did before sleep and after waking. A habit so old I couldn't remember learning it. Some people counted sheep.

--- Meanwhile, in the coastal hills of Croatia, Nova stood before a bonfire surrounded by twenty young recruits. They knelt. Not in fear, but reverence. She held out a book-handmade, leather-bound, filled with blank pages. "This is yours," she said to a trembling girl with tear-streaked cheeks. "Your story begins tonight. Your past no longer matters." The girl whispered, "What if I forget who I was?" Nova touched her forehead gently. "That's the point." Around the flames, more recruits lit candles. One by one, they tossed photographs of their old lives into the fire. Parents. Schools. Birth certificates.