Maine Novels Novels & Stories

“Since we have destroyed Azba, I have no urgent need of him. No large band will appear now till the first grass.” “Is Azba cut to pieces then?” inquired Novoveski. “So cut up that I do not know if twenty-five men escaped; and even those will be caught one by one, if Mellehov has not caught them already.” “I am terribly glad of this,” said Novoveski, “for now it will be possible to go to Rasrkoff? In safety,” here he turned to Basira: “We can take to Sir Rushet the letters which her grace, our benefactress, has mentioned.”

The new house was a sturdy two-story cabin on a small island off the coast of Maine, accessible only by boat and reachable only when the tides allowed. No neighbors for miles. No cell service. No past that could find them easily. For six months, it almost felt like they had won.

When I made a few phone calls last week on my way around the New England states, I found out that she was seen here within the last 2 weeks which means she may still be in the area. Remembering growing up and reading several of my favorite horror author’s novels, I recall that Maine was always a hot spot for the paranormal. I don’t know if it was because it is one of the oldest parts of America or if it’s because every little town feels a bit strange in some way. What I do know, is the fact that as soon as I stepped foot into this town, I had a strange sense of darkness surrounding me.

Avery’s POV The pine barrens eventually gave way to the rugged, quiet coastline of Maine. The secure cabin Jameson had found for us wasn't a sprawling glass mansion like the ones in New York or Zurich. It was built of weathered cedar and stone, tucked into a grove of birch trees where the only sound was the steady, rhythmic crash of the Atlantic against the cliffs below. There were no stock tickers here. No high-frequency trading algorithms, no flashing red alerts, and no boardrooms.

For the first time, Cathedra had someone who didn't cringe every time she opened her mouth to speak. So this is what having a friend feels like, huh? Cathedra thought to herself. One lunch break, while waiting for Diane underneath the tree, Cathedra was scribbling a draft of her first novel in her notebook. The novel contained the scenes she saw in the storybook, back in her kindergarten days. Since that day at kindergarten, she didn't tell anyone what she saw in the storybooks anymore. The thought of seeing things that other people couldn't still terrified her but she tried hard not to think about it by avoiding any book she can see other than school books and textbooks.

Five years later, the Maine coast remained as rugged and indifferent to the world as ever. The salt air had a way of scouring the past, leaving only the essentials: the granite cliffs, the whispering pines, and the rhythmic pulse of the tide. Julian Thorne sat on the porch of the timber-framed house, a laptop open on his knees. He wasn't tracking stock prices or intercepting encrypted transmissions. He was reviewing the architectural plans for a new school in the village—one funded by a "blind trust" that no one could quite trace back to a source.