Islands In The Stream Novels & Stories

By the time we reached the edge of the continent—a massive cliffside where the Great Ocean churned thousands of feet below—the five thousand had become a pack. ​And there, hovering among the clouds like a dream made of magnetic stone, were the Floating Isles. Massive chunks of rock held aloft by the invisible, humming resonance of the fourth Node. They drifted in a slow, rhythmic dance, their underside trailing long, glowing vines of bio-luminescent moss.

I stated. She reached for a small paper in her clothes and unfolded it. I took a peek, it was a map. “Oh, you really did come prepared.” “I have been preparing for this the whole time. The next island, it's a small island called the lion city. We should reach if we travel the whole day. I don't know if we'll reach on time before the sun comes up.” Nia stated. I held the paddle tightly, “We will surely reach before day break. Even if my hands break, I won't stop paddling.” I said

She croaked and began to wail. “Come on, baby. She’s okay. She’ll be okay, I promise.” He retorted. ___________ River happened to stumble in a bar when she became thirsty. She had been walking around taking pictures of wooden sculptures of creatures and human figures for a good hour and a half. She had already fallen in love with the small town and the breeze that flowed at night. Even during the day, it didn’t feel as hot and humid as in Texas. It was the opposite.

The following days after the dinner, Soren was in the house more often than before. However, he still seemed to be working in the study or on phone calls most of the time. Meanwhile, I had been busy reading the books Lola dropped off. Or, in other words… I had been busy keeping myself busy. "The Isles of Denali consist of over a hundred small islands, many of which have their own unique culture…"

*Isabella* Dust—thick and red—coats everything, clingin’ to my skin, my clothes, my hair. It is a far cry from the lush green hills of Tennessee, where willows dip their branches into cool streams. That life feels like a dream now. This place is different. Harsh, untamed… but it is ours.

*Permiton* *Several Days Ago* We stand on the edge of the shoreline, and the visions attack me, sharp and violent. Each image is simply a possibility, a road that will unfurl depending on what decision we make. River and Brook stand by the water, each trying to conjure a narwhal-pulled ferry, but they’re wasting their energy. It will not come for them; they’ve been exiled. The moment the decree was made, every living organism in this country turned against them.

Grace, always the photographer, darts through the streets with her camera, capturing moments Amanda hasn’t even noticed—a stray cat lounging in a doorway, the way the light catches a stained-glass window. They take a boat out to the towering cliffs, their dark faces rising like ancient guardians from the sea. Amanda stands at the bow, the salty wind tangling her hair, as dolphins dance alongside the boat, their sleek bodies cutting through the water with effortless grace. Javier, ever the patient guide, takes them to hidden coves and local taverns, weaving stories of the island’s past into their journey. At the end of each day, Amanda feels the island settling into her bones, its quiet beaut

I might really die here if I did not do something soon! Billy walked up to me with a whip and tapped my face with the tip. "Behave yourself, or I'll show you what happens when you don't pay your debts!" "Sir, let me go! I have money! I'll pay off all the gambling debts!" "You think I'd believe that nonsense? If you were wealthy, why would they have left you here all alone?" My mind raced as I tried to devise a plan. I happened to see Billy's phone screen, which had a contact labeled "Island Owner" in his contacts.

But her scent seems to be… diminishing. I frown, pausing again to sniff the air. Where are you, little one? I wonder, trying to seek her out above the other fragrances of the island. It’s early winter and we’ve already experienced our first snow, but it recently melted, thickening the streams that lead to the ocean below. They’re made of fresh water until they meet the bottom, which doesn’t carry a strong scent, but can wash away the natural perfume of others. Humming, I bend to touch a nearby stream, my focus on the mud beneath the surface, searching for foot prints.

Last I checked Islands were surrounded by water. Regardless of the rivers and streams aplenty it only has one bay. One I’m sure has the same unpierceable barrier that’s still essentially suicide. I huff out, moving back and away from the Yon’s searing jealousy. I’ll see how it plays. Not like Honorah and I have a negative history. I just have a less than stellar reputation. There won’t be any question in her mind why I’m here, even though the little fuckwads showing me the ropes are oblivious to it. No secret that the Falls is responsible for giving us about twenty to thirty percent of the food we do see in the Southern nations.