Jameson Hawthorne Novels & Stories

THE HAWTHORNE'S MANSION "So up till now, you don't have a valuable reason why Claw showed up that day at their engagement dinner and even after their arranged marriage was canceled, he hasn't shown up until now?" Mr Salvatore Delm questioned as he appeared like he hadn't had enough sleep in days which he hadn't had. Both of the men precisely, Mr. Salvatore Delm and Mr. Hawthorne. The sudden appearance of Claw, the deranged and psychotic son of the Wellington's was not something that anyone was supposed to be intrigued about.

James sat in his cane chair with his eyes closed and feet resting on the table as he listened to the sound of two goats in his backyard, bleating. The goats were gifts from Osinala which arrived very early in the morning before he could say the Lord's Prayer and brush his teeth. He looked forward to another meeting in the village square when he had regained his confidence and was strong enough to defend his cause. He stood up now and walked to the small pile of books he had arranged last night in search of an exemplary text that would fascinate his mind and set him in the right mood. Some weeks ago, he had considered writing a book about his trip to Africa. Unlike all the books he had read,

He sheepishly withdrew his hand and explained nervously, "This... is my brother-in-law. We're all family here. It's just a little disagreement. I'm sorry you had to come all this way, but it's an internal family matter. We can handle it ourselves. No need to trouble you officers." "Family matter?" I looked at him. "Mr. Marlowe, that's not what your wife just said. She said this is the Marlowe family's house and has nothing to do with me. She told me to get lost. And while I was out, she changed my lock without permission. "This is illegal entry into a residence. It's a criminal matter, not something you can brush off as a family disagreement." Donovan's face flushed red and then pale. He sho

I tried to reassure myself that it might be attributed to me, but deep down, I knew it wasn't. However, I did find solace in the thought that it could be because of Hawthorne's bloodline as it was the purest, I was told. I had heard countless stories from those who had crossed his path. One tale I'd heard was that Hawthorne's wolf form was the largest ever witnessed.

The vortex pulls him completely through, the smell of wood lingers on his nose as he opens his eyes on the other side. Whoa. It's apparent he's not in Heaven any longer. This Sec confines herself to a small room-like a prison. It's crowded with pictures, books, and piles of clothes that make it feel even smaller. Looking at all the clothes this Sec has, he stands there, wondering why anyone would need so much clothing. Angels only ever wear robes. Nathanael continues to wander around the room before making himself comfortable at a desk in the corner. Propping his feet up on the top, he tosses an arm over his eyes to block out the light and begins to mentally prepare for the mundane earthly l

Atticus is a ghost, he's not real. The room is almost pitch black save for the light coming from underneath the door. I still have to rely on my sense of touch to find the nearest wall. I don't have time to panic because I'm waving my hands in the air, hoping I don't trip over something. When I touch what feels like the frame of the door, my hands scan anxiously for the knob. Once it's open, I can see a little better through the dim light of the stained glass window. I cautiously peak my head into the hallway and from the looks of it, Atticus isn't here. The entire house is back to being old and abandoned.

The environment of the room was really tense and it made James feel really intimidated. James Jones, a famous businessman of New York, owner of one of the biggest construction buildings around the country. He had recently signed a contract with 'The Domancos' to build their new hotel and for some reason, he failed to complete the construction of the hotel by the deadline which has never happened before. But this time it happened and he doesn't know but a lot is going on behind this failure.

Opening the door, Christiana stood in front of her. "I forgot my handbag and umbrella at your house." "So sorry for the inconvenience." Her voice was laced with remorse. Staring at her, Daisy Hunter said," What, No, it's really okay…I too forget my stuff in people's homes." Daisy Hunter said, smiling gleefully, exposing her perfect dentition. Stepping into the dimly lit room, Christiana spotted her handbag and umbrella, grabbing it, she thanked Daisy and stepped out immediately.

He held Thae’s hand and said apologetically, “There’s something I have to confess, Thea.” “Huh?” Thea turned to him. James took a deep breath and said, “Y-You know about Yemima, right? When I infiltrated the Dooms, I slept with her because I was worried about my identity being exposed.” “Oh, didn’t you already tell me about it?” “Yemima has a son called Carson Dalibor, and he’s half-human,” James said ambiguously. He had experienced many things in life but still felt ashamed of himself.