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

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.

I arch, my body exploding around him again, this time so much stronger than before. I scream, and my eyes flash open. I realize that our babbling brook is now a raging river ten feet high and surrounding us on both sides. We are the island in this storm of pleasure, and I let the feel of Laiken’s water rush through me, sending me over the cliff of ecstasy once again.

Storm asked as we walked along the beach. It was a perfect afternoon, like all the afternoons here were. The island itself was a veritiable paradise. Which made the craziness of its inhabitants all the more surreal. “Not yet,” I sighed. I mindlinked my grandfather twice a day. They still hadn’t found Zane or Astrid. No one knew where Scarlett or Alpha Skylar was. They were looking for this island, but it was a needle in a haystack. There are thousands of small, tropical islands. We didn’t even know which ocean we were in - the Pacific or the Atlantic.