روايات وقصص ضمن House Of The Spirits

He reached into his lap and picked up his book, pulled it so close to his face he could smell the old, yellowed pages. “I’ve got all night,” he said. “Do you?” But Wes didn’t have all night—soon his eyes grew heavy and within an hour he was asleep. The book sat on the end of his nose until he rolled over and Ira Levin ended up on the floor by his slippers. Reggie woke him with her soft snoring at dawn. He rolled onto his back, wiped his eyes and remembered the silent duel from the night before. The ceiling swam into focus and he saw that it was bare. Instead of crickets, there was now birdsong; a sweet sound. He wet his gums and cleared his throat, rolled over and reached for the lamp, bed-s

Diego followed the purple mist which led her to a room with no door, the singing had now grown stronger. When Diego walked in the room, the lights that lit the passageway had completely died out. The room was dark except for the purple mist that poured out from the Black Spirit. “Why have you come?” the Spirit demanded in a mocking tone. Diego replied calmly “Your singing…is distracting me from thinking.” The Spirit chuckled, “Thinking?” Diego took a few more steps. She found the Black Spirit on the wet floor sitting with its head facing down. Diego couldn’t see her clearly because of the darkness, but she knew who that was...

“Reggie, who is this man again? And please tell me you know at least one more of him so you can set me up for life! Damn, when I saw the exterior of the house, I thought to myself, “Now, this house shouldn’t be in Ghana, but fuck the inside takes the fucking cake! This place looks like heaven!” Reggie shot him a faint smile as he fawned over the house. He wasn’t lying… the house was spectacular, but Reggie found it very amusing how in the past week it had felt so cold and empty. She would have given anything to have been offered the option to leave, and she had not even cared that she would be leaving such a magnificent work of art behind. But now she knew that that feeling of coldness and e

"Remember the sound of the birds. Remember the taste of the corn. Benson help me! Remember the things!" Benson gripped her hand. He did not know about Architects or stories.. He knew Maya. He closed his eyes. "I remember a girl " he whispered. "A girl with a stethoscope made of wood. She told me she was going to save the world." The world did not just change. It folded like a piece of paper. The House of Whispers When Maya opened her eyes the loud noise was gone. She was standing in front of a mud house. The air was cool. It smelled of woodsmoke and wet earth. The sun was setting. The palm trees looked orange. This was Oruk Anam.. It was too quiet.

The longhouse was warm despite the cold outside. A fire burned in the central pit, its smoke curling up toward the opening in the roof, carrying the scent of pine and ancient herbs. Elif sat on a fur-covered bench, Nisan asleep in her lap, Niklas close beside her. Kara paced near the fire, her silver hair catching the flames, her violet eyes troubled. Across from them, Siku sat in her carved wooden chair, her blind eyes staring at something none of them could see.

"Mr. Moss, the house is cleared out. Porter really is efficient. That family moved out in the middle of the night yesterday. "They didn't dare leave a single thing behind. Porter asked me to see if you want to come inspect the place." I went. The house was completely empty, looking much like it did when my father first bought it, aside from some scratched walls and stained floors. All those miscellaneous items belonging to the Marlowe family that once filled every corner had vanished without a trace, as if they had never lived there at all. Porter leaned against the bare living room wall with a cigarette dangling from his mouth.

Each one had a small window covered with wire. Zoe could hear muffled shouting, laughter, someone singing a sad song in Spanish, and someone crying quietly. Reyes stopped at a door marked C-14 and unlocked it with a large iron key. "Home sweet home," she said. "Try not to make friends." The door slammed shut behind Zoe. The lock turned with a deep, final click. Zoe stood still in the middle of the cell. It was very small. There were two metal bunks, one on each side. A steel toilet without a seat stood in the corner. There was also a tiny sink that was barely bigger than a soup bowl.

Why him? I stared at the growing web of connections, the patterns that didn’t make sense. My hand trembled as I pinned up one last word: WHO IS DIEGO? The lantern flickered, shadows crawling across the walls, as though the universe itself didn’t want me to know the answer. And deep inside, I felt my wolf stir—calm, but whispering something I couldn’t quite catch. Then—knock. I froze. Someone was at my bedroom door.

Now I knew he'd been bleeding me dry for Riley Anderson, his childhood sweetheart. "I want to refinance the house, too," he added. I stopped what I was doing, my hands frozen in the sink, and turned to stare straight at him. "You really want your four three-year-old sons to end up homeless?" This house wasn't much, just a small three-bedroom, but it was ours—the one we'd fought for, saved for, and sacrificed for. The mortgage wasn't even close to being paid off. His name was on the deed because when we first bought it, I had been out of town on business. He'd told me it would be easier that way, with him making the payments.

Rail, Rafael, and Uriel were already in front of a house. According to Uriel, he saw another dimension in a room with a photo of a familiar girl. "So this is the girl's spirit house?" asked Rail watching him. Yes, that house is Ardina's house. The house is simple, but very luxurious filled with antiques from his father's collection.