Intruder In The Dust Book Novels & Stories

I pushed it gently, expecting it to be locked or stuck, but to my surprise, it creaked open. A cloud of dust exploded from the door, making me cough. I backed away quickly, covering my mouth to avoid inhaling the grime. It took a moment for the dust to settle, and I closed the door to prevent more from coming out. I stood there, naked and struggling to catch my breath, wondering what lay beyond that hidden door.

I can't really see anything, endless dust rises onto my face. I catch a glimpse of woods, zinc, and broken buildings. I can see students lying dead, some vomiting blood, and crying in pain. "No, no, no, this is not the place I should be." Then a loud noise hits against the door. I jerk, and step backwards, glancing around. There's no weapon. What am I going to use to save myself from this intruder? Another loud slam against the door. Boom. The hinges shake as someone tries to pull the door down. The door vibrates as a heavy fist violently hits the door from outside. Then, one heavy boot breaks through the door and the door crashes down, falling into the room.

It was the kind of dust that suggested the shelves hadn't been touched in a long time, that their previous occupant had simply walked away, leaving their mark behind. Her hand moved across the shelf, sweeping and dusting it. With each swipe, she uncovered more dust, more layers of a life that had been left behind. It was strange, the way the dust seemed to hold onto things, refusing to let go. Then, with a soft, dry scratching sound, her fingers brushed against something solid at the very back of the shelf. A book.

Isn't that strange? Looking clearly pensive with the demeanor of a wooing man, Goodness said he made a move to bring the book out of its cage. He said he made a move to lure the book out of its trapped box, filled with frolicsome throngs of dust, particles, dirt and dust particles. Wait! Am I forgetting something about his dream? Because it seems I am confused between dust and dust particles. Honestly, I can't remember what he claimed he saw in the cage of the most untouched book of a small town in his dream but I know the book was cladded in all shades and manner of dusts, struggling to catch up with the books world, struggling to catch up with the average number of clients that had opened

in and out , I am just made of glowing dust , a glowing dusty figure to be specific , not like a human , like I am cosmic or mystic I don’t know it is just a dream right? I am floating in the air , sinking in the gloomy darkness yet so silent and I am only glowing and spreading dusty light here and there , for sure I wore nothing , yet I felt no shame , I loved it , as I felt free like I have never been ,but suddenly something attacked me !!! out of surprise , I screamed and hardly evaded it in the dark , but it came back quickly , I couldn't have seen it coming and it got me , it was again the brown crawlers of my nightmares , I was frightened as it was squeezing the hell out of me , I am

Amused by the term wolfman, Joseph gave a slight chuckle as he nodded. Jutting her slender hand out for him to shake, she enthusiastically said, “I’m Lila. Ingrid’s told us a good deal about you. Ben’s waiting inside. Follow me if you please.” He wasn’t sure, but if memory served him correctly, Lila was the name of the scientist’s assistant. If this was she, he was one lucky fella. After vigorously shaking his hand, she quickly turned to lead the way into the cave. Flames danced as they flitted light from candles that were sparsely positioned along the way, but he doubted the average person who wasn’t familiar with it would have been able to maneuver about without stubbing his toe on at

Because the truth didn’t need words. And because some piece of her still clung to the hope that she might be something more than war’s handmaiden. She stopped before the last cell. Inside, curled into the corner like a wound that had never closed, was a child. Dustborn. Eight, maybe. Filthy. Silent. His skin was stretched too tight over bones, and his eyes, gods, his eyes weren’t the eyes of a child. They were wide. Too wide. The kind of wide that screamed of horrors unseen but unforgettable.

“I—-“ pausing to take a deep breath, “I think it’s beautiful.” She nodded with pride, “I’ll let you wander. I need to do some cleaning in here anyway.” She walked away and went to behind the shelves where she started dusting. I kept on staring at the book which caught my eye, after mustering up enough courage I picked it out. A cough left me as a bout of dust managed to enter my mouth. “‘LYCANTHROPY’” The words were boldly woven onto the cover page. I nipped my bottom lip, opening it up and then shut it right back as soon as I felt the bond again.

All that cuts the silence is the grind of tools, soft paper shuffling, sometimes a deep cough tearing through. A heavyset worker pauses, glancing up from his task. A club hangs by his side, strapped to a thick belt. His gaze - keen, wary - fixes on our figures standing stiff in the entrance. The air stills as he studies us without speaking. Last time we looked, it was already too much. Way past that now. “Run,” Noah says. Fate already sealed. Across the hollow dark, a voice cracks - sharp, sudden. “INTRUDERS!”

I help her lift it up, and that is when we see the book that is just sitting there in the sand. I hear Nova's breathing seize. “What's that?” She asks, her voice barely above a whisper. I look around one more time, making sure that we aren't being watched, as I pull the book out of the sand, dusting off the cover. There isn't a name. As I open the book and flip through the pages, they are slightly damp, with almost all the pages empty. I get to the middle, and that is when I see the first drop of ink in the book. The handwriting is more or less scribbling, but I can clearly read everything.