Long Way Down Summary Novels & Stories

"3,000 feet isn’t deep enough. The undercurrents around that site are brutal, and they probably won’t make it back alive. What about the third one?" "He says he's got a solo deep-dive suit, custom-built. Claims he's been down to 3,900 feet." I tapped my fingers on the table and said nothing. Claims would not keep him alive down there. Brody went quiet. "Maren..." "If they insist on going, they will die." I closed my eyes. "Almost certainly, all of them." Brody set his phone down. "Maren, aren't you going to try to talk them out of it?"

To my surprise, he responded with, "I took care of that, after dinner we will go to the mechanic's shop and get it, it is not much but it runs" I knew it would be nothing special, and it wasn't, old beat-up pickup, it will serve its purpose. After getting some homework done I went downstairs to get something to eat, I heard commotion looking out the window I saw Lilly, Sophie, and her brother playing in the yard. It was kinda cute to see. Two weeks have passed and my life was falling into the routine - school, home, gym, homework, sleep, and all over again, this is what poor life feels like. Tomorrow is Monday again and I have no idea for how long I can take this kind of life.

The first time I went to the boutique to try on wedding dresses, I stumbled upon the staff playing their game of “Guess the Bride.” The big screen inside was displaying the package my fiancé had reserved. Eager to snag the commission, the makeup artist spoke up first: “I remember the bride is petite and delicate. She looks absolutely stunning in a mermaid dress.” The photographer chime in: “She has straight bangs and two dimples when she smiles.” “Oh, right—and a red mole on her collarbone. She looks best in an off-shoulder gown.” I froze right on the spot. I had waist-length, voluminous waves, no dimples, and certainly no mole. The person they were describing fit my best friend—Charlotte Ho

Three Months Long is a story set in Abuja, in predominantly two districts, Wuye and Jabi. Peter and Olivia are in love and want to have a future together. However, Olivia is older than Peter by a few years and already a graduate while Peter is still a freshman in the university . While Peter’s family is not perturbed about the difference in age and academics , Olivia’s family won't have any of it. Peter promises Olivia a forever love but will their love stand the stern test from their parents and the Nigerian society where it's expected for a man to be several years older than his partner? As the story unravels, love, fear, uncertainty, parental pressures determination, trust and values are

You will still be able to eat from the ground like a dog even without your hands. After saying that, he pulled out a handgun and fired two shots at my wrists. The agonizing pain caused me to black out. Three days had passed by the time I came to. This was when I found myself locked in the family's basement reserved for traitors. Three days of having nothing to eat or drink made me extremely weak, so much so that I could no longer feel my hands. Derek happened to send a message to me. "Have you repented? I will forgive you as long as you come over and grovel at Lilyanne's feet to apologize to her. Then, you may remain as my wife."

They claimed that Mona had always maintained good results, but she had 'accidentally' gotten food poisoning before her final exam, which affected her usual standard of performance. The local education department held a last-minute meeting and decided to make an exception for her, giving her a spot in college. James had even knelt on one knee to propose to her, and their love story garnered huge popularity among netizens. While all this was happening, an extremist with mental illness snuck into my parents' home to break their legs and burn them to death. While they were begging through their locked door to be saved from the fire, James was standing outside with his arm around Mona. "If it was

We both knew the species of person we were: the kind who sought out the darkness before the sun had even thought about setting. I took a bar stool at the far end, as far from the TV and the suit as I could get, creating an island of solitude. The barmaid drifted over, and I ordered a bloody Mary to make Michael happy and then chased it down with a dark rum neat, the first one vanishing in two sharp, burning gulps that barely made a dent in the static filling my head. It was only then, as I waited for the second drink to arrive, that my eyes drifted up to the flickering pictures on the screen. I never knew then, of course. I never knew how important that little news reel would become.

Else it would be another area with red marks in my GPS. Sasha Vale is good at making this road exist in the secret society. I mean, who would've thought that an ex-convict like her will make this traffic-free route that even the government of this country wouldn't know? Well, maybe because everyone fears the slumps. Who in the world would drive to the recessions anyway? Perhaps criminals and public volunteers. Then there's only a 1% chance that this road will be discovered. "Are we there yet?" I remove my eyes from the road and look at Marco, who just woke up from his slumber.

Looks like he got beaten up pretty badly. ‘Pity him!’ After five minutes, Team Four’s office became quiet again. The other employees in the Project Department looked at the closed door, then shook their heads. They sighed and continued to work on their own tasks. In the now quiet Team Four office… “What’s your name? Where are you from?” “Bro, I’m Ekialde Long. My grandfather is Chester Long, one of the first shareholders of the company…” Ekialde mumbled. He was squatting against the wall with messy hair after getting beaten badly.

Her mother wept, pressing my hand to her cheek. I looked at my palms. The blood, used to be a chain bond Ethan and me. Now, it became the cure. A quiet peace filled the hollow space inside me. This was why I left. Not to hide. To heal. Six months pass before our vaccine trial breaks through. That night, Sam raises a chipped glass: “To the ones still breathing. Drink.” We cram into the shack-bar, air thick with sweat and rotgut stench. Someone uncorks murky moonshine. Glasses lift—