Lights Out Book Review Novels & Stories

Andrew’s POV….. Night had always been my ally. In boardrooms, darkness sharpened my focus. In negotiations, it made men careless. In war — legal or otherwise — it hid the blood. But tonight? Tonight, the dark felt too loud. The penthouse was silent in that unnatural way that only happens after chaos has finally stepped back to watch. The city lights bled in through the glass walls, distant and cold, like stars that didn’t care if you lived or died.

You’ve been wanting to change it for a while to get my attention, haven’t you? [I was too busy painting to notice, so you had to make a big scene, I suppose?] Reading the barrage of texts, I felt nothing but a dull ache in my chest. When did the Henry I’d once loved so fiercely become this person? I had nothing left to say to him. I simply replied: [You’d better read the agreement carefully. You’ve already signed them—only formalities remain.] Silence followed for a few minutes before he called. I ignored it. Exhausted from the journey, I muted my phone, took a long bath, and slept soundly.

He was right — I never should have cared in the first place. There was nothing left to care about even then. I cut ties with every company chat group without a second thought. As the sky began to lighten, I made my way home but ran into Marvin at the elevator. He glanced at me like I was nothing, scorned, and quickly looked away. "Spent the night here mulling things over? Come to any realizations?" I hit the elevator button, my voice dripping with indifference. "Yeah, I've had an epiphany. I'm done."

This time, I didn’t flinch. The book flared in my hands. Light, bright and white, erupted from it, washing over the forest floor. The shadows were erratic as if it as in pain, if that was even possible. It was twisting and writhing, trying to retreat. The figure screamed too, its voice a mixture of rage and fear. “You cannot—she is not ready—” But the light didn’t stop. It surged through me, through the ground, through the forest itself. And then—silence.

“What?” I show them the phone. Damian swears under his breath. “He’s dead.” “Yes,” I say slowly. “But someone else just picked up the pen.” The lights flicker again. And this time, they don’t come back on. Chapter 37 POV: Lydia Hart Darkness has weight. It presses in on the room, thick and deliberate, as if the power outage is not a failure but a decision. The hum of the city outside is muted, distant, like London itself has stepped back to watch what happens next.

I thought: yes. I thought: I know. I thought: I am not afraid of heavy things. He fell asleep before midnight. Not dramatically. Just gradually. The way exhausted people do when they finally stop holding themselves upright. His head tipped back slightly. His breathing changed. I sat with him for a while longer. Then I turned the lamp off. And went to bed. And left him there in the dark that wasn’t really dark. With the city light coming through the curtains. And the two cold cups on the table. And the coat folded over the arm of the sofa. And the door to the locked room standing just slightly open.

When I wake up on the difficult bed presently, in any case, my cell remains pitch dark, and not indeed the thought of Chart book is sufficient to bring the light back. It’s right around at that point that I realize I’m going to kick the bucket here.

When I enter, I quietly close the door behind me and fish for the lock in the darkness, my hands shaking so much I almost give up and cry. Once I've finally locked myself in the dark room that I have no idea of what it's purpose is, I run my hands over the wall and find the light switch. All the lights flicker to life in an instant and a rather large movie room is revealed. Even with all the perfectly laid out blankets, comfy-looking chairs, a gigantic movie screen and a snack bar, the first thing I notice is the 'emergency exit' sign and it's bright red lighting.

Ernest said. Don looked up. He turned to a page. He read: "The darkness was not the absence of light. It was the presence of something else. The presence of the stars, the presence of the aurora, the presence of the snow reflecting what little light there was. The darkness held things. The light was what revealed them." He closed the book. "That is the same writer as the essays," Ernest said. "Yes. She has a consistent way of thinking about the dark. Not as lacking. As a presence."

The chest that was still bare and undeniably enticing. “This is the only time I’m a fan of lights-out in the bedroom.” It was an easy comment made seconds before he leaned over and hit the button that turned off both bedside lamps simultaneously. The room went dark and Chloe’s heart began to pound a different rhythm. It wasn’t a totally unfamiliar feeling but one that she didn’t welcome now. She pulled the covers up, tucking them tight beneath her armpits, and closed her eyes. She could do this. She could sleep in the same bed with a guy....There was nothing she couldn’t do...