London Novel Novels & Stories

London had a different rhythm when Luca walked through it — slower, heavier, as if the city didn’t quite know what to do with him. He wasn’t used to anonymity. Monaco bent around him. Milan paused for him. New York watched him. But London… London didn’t care. He liked that more than he expected.

She simply drove, her attention on the road, her presence in the car a quiet competence that required nothing from them. Ernest watched London slide past the window. The city in the early evening was the city he had known for decades—the streets, the buildings, the specific quality of the light that was the quality of this latitude at this time of year. He had lived in London before the arrangement, had worked in London, had traveled through London countless times on the way to other places. London was not his home—the estate was his home, had been his home for seven years now—but London was familiar, was known, was the place where the infrastructure of his life had been located before he ha

London baby, I have arrived! As Edmund and I sit in the back of the chauffeur driven car, my face is plastered to the window as I take in this new city that is now my home. There's so much to take in: it's incredible how one place can have so much vibrancy, multiculturalism, and a cosmopolitan edge all at once: the sky scraper buildings, glamourous clothes shops filling the high streets, the internationally renowned restaurants, the parks, the double deckers, the black cabs. And then there's the history: Westminster Abbey, Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, Tower Bridge, the London Eye, 10 Downing Street, the Tower Bridge, the Great Fire, Barbican Arts Gallery. This city is truly a perfect blending

Lillium Roosevelt I kept my eyes pressed to the glass, watching the city pour itself out like a dream in motion. The rain-slicked streets shimmered beneath the amber glow of streetlamps, every cobblestone and wrought-iron gate bathed in the kind of elegance you only ever saw in movies. London at night didn’t feel like a city—it felt like a memory you’d never lived, hauntingly familiar and impossibly new all at once.

And just before he hung up he said simply, "Good luck Sheila." I'd thought about those three words the entire flight over. The cab ride took nearly an hour. I watched London go past the window. It was nothing like Vegas. Where Vegas was wide and loud and spread out under a bright sky, London was dense, layered and old in a way that sat inside the buildings blocks themselves. Every street looked like it had stories it wanted to share. I liked it despite myself. We pulled up to a residential street in East London. Neat buildings. Small front steps. Frosty windows doing their best in January.

The rain over London had turned into a freezing downpour, the kind that blurred the city’s neon lights into smears of cold light. Alessandro and Caro stood on the Embankment, the black waters of the Thames churning beside them. The Librarian’s ultimatum hung in the air like a poisoned fog.

CHAPTER ONE Unforgotten Janice gazed through the window of the tinted glass of the land rover as it sped past the busy London street. It was a wet evening in London; the streetlights decorated the street like satellites dotted across the galaxy. The lights from the apartment's windows made it even better- the view was simply breathtaking! This is one of the many things Janice loved about London; aside from the weather, the tea and cake, especially St. Lauren's tea shop is the absolute best!

My first day in London was cold enough to be forgotten. The weather was horrible, and my legs were shaking like a pair of noodles. Things in London are so different from my hometown. Everyone is from top to bottom and no one stays still, while there are so many lights around the city, that sometimes I am blinded by them. Before this change in my life, I lived in a town called Bunbury, a town where nothing at all ever happens. So I was very lucky to be sent to cold London.

“ Sunday, 10 June 2018 (20:16) Canary Warf, London London, something about the city always drew me in, but never in a million years would I have thought that I’d be living here. The apartment is nice, Ayc seems to like it and we have a wonderful view of the city… It’s not home though, it’ll never be

(Julian’s Point of View) The rain in London didn’t fall like the rain in New York. In Manhattan, it was a challenge, a percussive strike against the pavement. In London, it was a pervasive, lingering grey mist that seeped into the marrow of the buildings and the bones of its inhabitants.