Novel & Cerita House On The Cerulean Sea

The fresh sea breeze brushed against Serena’s face, carrying the scent of salt that seemed to wash away the lingering weight of Jakarta’s pollution and the bitter memories that had long suffocated her. Aboard a luxurious yacht cutting through the deep blue waters of Labuan Bajo, Serena Zea finally felt truly alive. The vessel glided smoothly, leaving a trail of white foam behind it—just like Serena, who had left the ruins of her past far beyond the horizon.

When we finally pulled through the massive iron gates of the matrimonial home, even Mila gasped. The house was a masterpiece of white stone and glass, perched on a private peninsula. It was a four-storey building that looked out over the Coral Sea. High-tech cameras moved on the walls, and guards with German shepherds patrolled the manicured lawns. "Wow! This house looks like heaven," Mila whispered. "It’s just like a kingdom." "It's a fortress," I corrected. This house was even grander than the last house, filled with soft light and the scent of fresh sea air. Everything was exactly as Isabella had left it. The white piano she used to play, the soft blue curtains she chose – everything was

Grandfather Martins had told his son, Darius (Danielle's father) to let him stay at the care center since his wife died after they left the cabin. He alone knew the story of the cabin and the secret that lurked around this place, he never had the chance to destroy the notes and put the cabin up for auction. He hoped that no one will ever visit the cabin again, after what happened to him and everything that happened before the calamity befell him and his wife. He wished nothing of sort would happen to someone else.

The air itself changed, discarding the soot and tension of the city for the pungent, clean scent of pine and sea. The Maine coast house was not ostentatious like the penthouse. It was a shingled, stoutly constructed home, weathered to a soft grey by centuries of Atlantic storms, standing on a rocky headland as though it had grown there. Its windows looked out over an endless stretch of bucking, steel-blue water, a sight that made men's troubles seem ludicrously tiny.

Grabbing my drink I moved into the bedroom, dripping water onto the carpet as I plopped onto the bed taking another sip. I picked up the phone, squinting at the card on the nightstand as I dialed the front desk. Placing the phone to my ear, I let out an exasperated sigh. I was cold and everything felt numb. I just wanted today to be over. “Seaside Hotel.” An overly chipper voice said, and I grit my teeth together. “Hi, I’m in room 502 and the shower won’t turn off. The knob, I don’t-”

I catch wave after wave for hours on end, losing all track of time. When I finally decide to come back to shore, there is my family is on our private beach. Our seaside beach house sits upon its stilts behind Carley in the background while she waves at me with a huge smile on her face while she sits under an umbrella with Arson’s head in her lap.

I just drank the water, the coldness of it matching the ash-taste of the word husband. The House of Glass The Ho family’s private beach house was an architectural scream of "look at us." It was all glass, teak, and white volcanic stone, glowing like a lantern against the darkening Pacific. As we stepped onto the terrace, the air was already thick with the saccharine laughter of my sisters. Lily was glowing, her hand perpetually resting on her pregnant stomach as if it were a trophy. Bethany was draped in a neon pink chiffon that hurt to look at.

I watched the boat disappear back into the blue horizon and realized that for the next month we were officially the only two people who existed in our world. The house was a sanctuary of cool marble floors and open air terraces that looked out over a sea so blue it felt like a hallucination. Dominic guided me to the master suite which was filled with the scent of sea salt and the expensive citrus candles I had mentioned liking months ago. He had managed to have my entire studio setup moved here in secret so that I wouldn't have to spend a single day without the ability to paint my thoughts.

When I was five, I was always excited whenever it was time for bed. My Grandma Momma will cook our dinner. Let me brush my teeth and comb my long hair. And after that, she will put me into bed and bedtime stories will follow. She told me a lot of fantasy stories, but my favorite was the pirate of the Lost Sea named Escarial. He was the epitome of perfection. Gentleman, handsome, a knight in shining armor to most of the ladies in their land, and most of all, he caught the heart of the brave princess, Athalia.

After hearing him out, Daniel and I decided to drive home overnight. Before we left, Great-Uncle Harold added that once the spirit-bound blood disappeared, she would suffer retaliation from the infant’s soul. As for what kind of retaliation, he didn’t say. By the time we reached home, it was already past midnight. Once inside, we turned on the lights and found the sculpture in the northwest corner of the living room. We used a power saw to cut it open. Sure enough, at the base of the sculpture was a transparent sealed vial.