Lost Generation Book Novels & Stories

​A small, silver-haired boy with Davis-green eyes, holding a broken wooden flute. ​"Papa?" the boy whispered, his voice an exact match for Kael’s "Muted" tones. "Is the story... almost over?" ​Kael and Nora froze. The "Third Genesis" wasn't just about the Synthesis. It was about the Reclamation of the Deleted. ​The Third Twin had returned.

A year since that day I ran away from home and decided to die on an island. I had the perfect idea of the perfect death. It was not unsuccessful. In fact, the lost soul, Brieanna died and is still submerged down the ocean floor. I never retrieved my backpack, it's my grave.

They just read it. He reached the final chapter as the light was fading. The final chapter was about the first generation — about Don and Ernest, about the arrangement, about the estate they were building together. Don had written it in the third person, not the first. The first generation consisted of two men who came to the estate in the same year. One had been there before, had grown up in the county, and had returned after decades away. The other had never been to the county before, had arrived with nothing but a journal and the intention to build something that would last. They built together. They built without knowing how long the building would last. They built because the building w

It is valid from my perspective. "I'm sorry you were ripped from your family Jessa. After this war, I will see if I can get you home to visit them. If you would like," Braxius offers. Kissing Braxius on his cheek, I sadly say. "They are no longer here, Braxius. I'm the only one left." In this time. "I'm truly sorry, Jessa," Braxius says sincerely. "I will see them again," I tell him confidently. I hope I can someday get back to my own time. But for now, I'm content to be with this man for a short while.

Exhaustion is taking over, and I am having trouble keeping my eyes open. Right before my eyes close, the last thing I see is Braxius's blue-green eyes filled with love and sorrow. Except, I somehow know everything will be all right with him. That only thought is making my leaving easier, and I stop fighting the darkness. I am floating away towards total oblivion. I am having a few brief flashbacks of my short life of twenty-two years and growing up in New Jersey with Meena, my younger sister of nine months. I accepted my entry-level position at a prestigious marketing firm and graduating from college with honors as a business major with a minor in history.

he said, his voice filled with pride, as he pulled out his toolbox and began tinkering with the broken laptop. While Clara was concentrating on how her laptop was being fixed, Mathias was busy walking around the room, his eyes scouring every nook and cranny. Suddenly, he stumbled on something that caught his interest, an old looking book with the name Los cuentos perdidos (The Lost Tales). Mathias's eyes widened with excitement as he recognized the title. He had seen a book like this once in his grandfather's home, but at that time, he was too young to read or have an interest in books. However, he knew for one thing, his grandfather couldn't have a book in his house that wasn't related to

On the morning of the fourth day, I began the "Pilgrimage." Before I left, I went to the manor's abandoned library. It was filled with moldy books and broken furniture, and the air smelled of decaying paper. But on a shelf in the deepest corner, I found a special diary. The cover was dark brown leather, with "Book of Laments" embroidered in gold thread. I opened the first page and saw elegant handwriting. "Here are recorded the stories of every soul in this manor, their pain, their despair, and their final wishes..."

The day before Christmas, I lost an entire chapter I had written that morning. I was totally gutted and have taken a few days off to get back into a positive frame of mind. I have started writing the chapter again, but it was difficult to get started. Damn ADHD! On a good note: I have signed the name change contract, and hopefully soon, the new name of Hidden Legacy (The Lost Luna) will be updated. The Kindle version of Book 1: The Lost Luna has gone live. The new cover is looking awesome, thanks to Rose Proffitt. I have added the new cover to here as well.

VOLUME ONE: HURRICANE Tatum I jerk my head upright as the roar of a motorcycle breaks through the otherwise peaceful Bowling Green, Kentucky morning. The book on my phone's reading app is forgotten as I put a hand to my chest and cut my gaze directly across from Cash's Customs, the body shop specializing in foreign makes and models I work at. Walker's Wheels, which specializes in domestic vehicles and motorcycles, is my dad's shop, and the man leaving the parking lot is the one who pissed me off a year ago. In all honesty, he's still pissing me off. I glare at his leather-jacket covered back as he rides down the street. Pissed off because he ruined my concentration, I try not to think about

“I had Vivian in my head, not my heart. I’m not saying this to please you now. I think you’ve always been in my heart; I just didn’t realize it.” If her face had been red earlier, now it was burning hot from his words. “You don’t value things until you lose them.” Ranya laughed, fully understanding her words. He had died inside the moment he walked into his home and couldn’t find a single thing that reminded him of Calista. She had wiped everything clean, making his head hurt from trying to recall how things were placed in his home. “So, Vivian?” she asked, now ready to hear the story she had long been curious about.