Margaret Atwood Books Novels & Stories

There are people who want to take you down. I tell him I have always been a target. He leaves. The evening comes. I drive home to the safe house. The new one. Deeper in the woods. No road. No address. The trees are so thick that the sky disappears. The only light comes from the windows. Margaret is in the kitchen, making dinner. The smell of garlic and onions fills the small space. She has been quiet since Patricia died, lost in her own grief, her own guilt. She does not speak of the past. She cooks. She cleans. She holds the babies when I need a break.

“Please tell me she’s not about to say what I think she’s about to say.” Margaret finishes calmly. “But one of its original architects.” The words hit like a gunshot. And suddenly I understand something terrifying. Margaret isn’t trying to destroy Adrian anymore. She’s trying to destroy me. ______________

Sitting at her desk in the ordinary afternoon light crying at an email from a small press that wanted to publish a book about women who had been consumed by a haunted house on a hill. She wiped her face. "Come home," she said. "We're celebrating." "I'm already on my way," he said. She looked at the email again. At Margaret's name in the first line of the synopsis she had sent. At Clara's. At Patricia's. At all of them. Given back. Finally properly given back. That evening they celebrated. Liam came through the door with a bottle of decent wine and takeaway from the Indian place she loved. Evelyn had already lit the candles they almost never used and put on the old playlist they’d made during

She opened it, several pages passed beneath her eyes. When she reached the bottom of one page, she realized she could not remember a single sentence she had just read. The book remained open across her lap, but her attention had drifted elsewhere. A little girl standing in a school lobby with dark hair and bright eyes. The name grandmother echoed in her head without inviting. Margaret lowered the book on her lap. Then an image of Theo appeared, standing beside his sister; he listened more than he spoke. Margaret's eyes moved toward the window.

Evelyn Doris shifted behind Adrian. And from the corner of my eyes, I noticed. Margaret remained ever still. “We don’t have all morning.” I turned toward her, unsure of how to reply to her, feeling the hatred towards her hanging on my chest… a child murderer, she was. Adrian looked at his mother. “Let her read it.” Margaret’s expression hardened, but she said nothing. The lawyer slid the first set of documents toward me. I read slowly.

Wendy Another library. Another dead end. So far, anyway. "Nothing." I close the book louder than I mean to, and a woman at the next table over glares at me. I make an apologetic face and shrink into myself. "Same here." Alec pushes his book away. The local library on the third island isn't much bigger than a house, and the number of books on local lore amounts to what can hardly be called a stack. "Maybe this is pointless," I mumble. "Igor spent decades searching for the coin. What makes us think we can find it in a few days?"

“We are tossed by the winds of fate. Once we end where they blow us, we make of ourselves that we will.” Smart man, Neill, but it isn't easy now, is it? I mused, turning over the page of the book I was reading, mentally applauding Nora Roberts for being such a great wordsmith. And I have to say that Margaret Mary was definitely my spirit animal. I remained in my room, lost in the book, when the distant sound of laughter and footsteps reached my ears.

When she emerged again, she was holding a similar book wrapped in an unfurled red cloth, but the color of the cloth had obviously faded with time. She approached them, clutching the book as if she were holding a treasure or the entirety of her hope. Her expression was solemn, and her eyes were already moist. Kiran and Rain looked both surprised and grave. When Margaret offered the book to Kiran, he realized in astonishment that it was also titled The Secret Records of Dragonsmount. “Kiran, it’s yours now!” Margaret’s cheeks were streaked with tears.

Her voice trailed off, but the implication hung heavy in the air. Margaret’s gaze sharpened as she took the book. She ran her fingers over the cover, her lips pressing into a thin line. “This is no ordinary book,” she said quietly, her words laced with certainty. --- Explaining the Truth “What do you mean, not ordinary?” Ryan’s father, Michael, asked, his skepticism evident. Margaret looked up, her gaze piercing. “This book is a gateway, a connection to another realm—a spiritual realm. It doesn’t just tell a story; it pulls you into it. Your children aren’t just unconscious; their souls are trapped, fighting in a place between life and death.”

Lilith glanced around as if we might be overheard even inside the greenhouse, then said, “My connection in Stormhollow is one of her personal maids—and she said that Margaret has been dabbling in witchcraft.” “Witchcraft.” I might have been surprised, were it not for… well, every other insane detail of my life lately. She nodded. “Apparently, she’s been reading some strange books—likely what she was in the restricted section for the other night. And she’s been going out a lot. My connection said it’s some kind of old house in the forest. She, your father, and Brian apparently went there during your funeral.”