Mystery White Marble Novels & Stories

'If I ignore it maybe it will go away' The girl insisted. The manor hall was the place where the Malion family usually held banquets and held parties. A spacious room with marble floors and white pillars, the chandelier above was composed of beautiful crystals that glowed softly. The white roofs were carved with intricate and ancient carvings. Crimson curtains hung from the wall-sized glass windows. It took not a short time to make sure all the room was clean. Kiara mopped the marble floor with a water-soaked rag, making sure every inch was shiny and clean.

It looked so homey and warm but also so modern and mysterious. I looked at the gorgeous asshole, Orion. And he looked like he was having a frustrating conversation with himself. Hopefully, this isn't like one of those things I heard about watching crime documentaries. Like Wild Bill. Maybe he was thinking of a way to Hansel and Gretel me. I take in my surroundings, just in case. The front of the castle has a beautiful white marble fountain with intricate details of wolves running under the moon chiseled into the bottom. The sprout of the fountain was a gorgeous woman with long hair and a nice flowy dress holding the moon above her head all made of marble. That is where the water was coming o

'I must be really tired…' Joan thought while she entered a room following Susan. The room was strange. Not something that she had ever seen, that's for sure. If she would have to describe it in one word, it would be clean. Shine smooth white walls and a smooth white floor and ceiling. Marble. That was the name of that type of stone. Joan could see a metallic tap and faucet on the wall with a stone counter with a bowl indented on it under the tap and faucet. At the counter's side, hanging on the wall, there was a soft blue towel. There was a strange white bowl on the ground too that had some kind of lid over it. "This is the bathroom, Joan. You can take baths, do your necessities, and wash yo

~ Willow ~ “This way Willow.” Mona whispered to me as we exited out into the hall. This place is super elegant. Everything is marble. These dragons sure know how to live. Everywhere I look I see white and gold and creamy orange marble. It’s simply beautiful, this whole place is. There are huge floor to ceiling marble columns that support the tall ceilings. This place is enormous, it has to be. Dragons are massive creatures.

It smelled of dry rot and ancient, metallic sorrow. Madison walked past the empty pedestals. In the center of the chamber, under a single, flickering fluorescent light, sat an iron sarcophagus. The lid had been pried open decades ago. Inside lay the mummified remains of a creature too large to be a man, too refined to be a beast. The original White Wolf.

A courier stood there, soaked through, holding a flat, heavy box wrapped in brown paper. "Delivery for Mrs. Blackwood," he said, handing it over. "Went around the mailroom, like it said to." I hadn't asked for anything. I signed for it and waited until the door shut before tearing the paper away. Inside was a solid piece of rough marble, warm veined, about the size of a hardcover book. Underneath it sat a thick card. The handwriting was heavy and slanted, entirely unbothered. You were right about the stone tariffs. Hate admitting it, but you usually are. Keep the marble as a trophy.

My intention was to give Isla the spectrum of light, not just the endless void of her chosen darkness. On a makeshift workbench, I laid out the tabletop samples. The elegant honed-white marble, then a really dramatic dark darker quartz gray with its white veining. This was the first nod to her. The last was more dramatic and the one I preferred. The marble was a true dark purplish, it was nearly black with a tiny bit of near gray veining. I stood back, arms crossed, letting the silence of the construction site settle the tension in my chest. A shadow fell across the floor.

My heart sinks as I come to the realisation that this is the master bedroom of Saint. As I step into the luxurious black and white bathroom, I’m instantly surrounded by a sense of timeless elegance and sophistication. The monochrome decor seems to transport me to a bygone era where attention to detail was paramount and luxury defined the essence of everyday living. The bright, gleaming white marble floors blend seamlessly with the rich, dark walls to create an atmosphere of refined elegance, while the carefully placed lighting fixtures gently illuminate each corner of the room.

If you take up less space, maybe the monsters won't see you. Aureliano doesn't wait for me. He walks toward the massive front doors. I have to jog to keep up, my wet shoes squelching on the pristine stone. Inside is worse. Marble. Everything is marble. The floors are white and veined with grey, stretching out like a frozen lake. The walls are high, echoing with every footstep. It’s beautiful. And it feels completely dead. There is no warmth here. No clutter. Just expensive emptiness.

Before he unlocked it, he looked back. “Remember, Lena. You asked to see.” The key turned. The door opened. White light spilled into the corridor. I stepped inside. And stopped breathing. The room was white. Not metaphorically. Not just stone and cloth. White marble walls. White floors. White curtains drawn across narrow windows. White candles in silver holders. White bowls on a white table. White cloth folded with ceremonial precision. And in the center of the room stood a silver chair. Not a throne. Not exactly.