Mystery White Marble Novels & Stories

A massive free-standing tub of hand-carved white marble sat elevated on a low dais near the arched windows, filled to the brim with warm, sapphire-tinted water. ​Maya leaned back against the smooth marble rim, her dark hair pinned loosely at the crown of her head, though soft strands had escaped to cling to her damp, flushed neck. Her amber eyes were half-lidded, heavy with the quiet exhaustion of a night spent dodging bullets and interrogating mercenaries.

“It’s about the Jaxson Interiors proposal. The client needs urgent clarification on the marble finish you approved. They said if we don’t respond by noon, they’ll consider a different design team.” I rubbed my temple. Of course. Something urgent again. “Alright,” I said, waving her in. “Bring the file.” She handed me the document. I flipped through the pages and quickly spotted the section in question. “It’s the Carrara white slab, not Calacatta. Jaxson prefers subtle veins, not dramatic ones. Please relay that back, and confirm we’re sending over updated samples today.” “Yes, ma.” She left, and the silence in my office returned like a cold breeze.

So, I wander out of the room, but still, there is no sign of anyone else being present here. This is such a massive house, yet there are no servants or staff? How come? It’s almost eerie how pristine and untouched everything looks… Ultimately, I make my way to the living room area, where there’s a breakfast counter of sorts. There is a white marble slab attached to the wall, and in front of it, there are three chairs in beige, brown and black. I sit on one of the chairs uncertainly and pick up a magazine from a stack nearby. As I flip through its pages, I try to engross myself in the articles about the latest investment scams…

Deep purple, swirling script and tiny inlayed gemstones decorate all the available covers space. ‘Witches – The origin of a species.’ I recognise some of the gems, others look like they could have been stolen away from other worlds. A milky white, opaque stone, with black veins and a blue hue in the right light, stands out above the rest. I would recognise a moonstone anywhere. My thumb glides over it’s cool, polished surface and a shiver runs up my arm. The freaked out little boy inside me, yells at me to put the book down. I’m not about to argue. I place it on the table beside me and reach for the next.

It was just another night for him. Isn’t it his best friend’s birthday party? Shouldn’t he at least be a little lively? He even came empty handed. My thoughts are cut short as the elevator door beeps and slides open, revealing a sprawling foyer. The whole entryway is made with a white -veined calacatta marbles, that mirrors the glow from the suspended chandelier above our head. Unlike Rowan’s Penthouse, Cyprian has a lot of abstract oil paintings hanging on his walls. They ranged from dark arts to cultural paintings, all of them so vividly beautiful, with their own meanings.

right? Right... Making our way deeper into the hall, the rushing fountain made of a pure white stone, that I instantly knew was marble, finally came into full view. And what a fountain it was. It was huge. Like... really huge. Like everything else in this golden cage. I think the center pillar alone was as big around as three of me put together. And there was a beautifully sculpted cherub with a tiny little bow and arrow in each of its chubby hands affixed right to the very top of it. I had to force myself not to snort in derision.

​He nodded toward the far end of the marble ballroom, near the balcony that overlooked the darkened city. ​A man stood there, completely still amidst the dancing crowd. He wore a suit of bone-white linen that seemed to absorb the light rather than reflect it. He was unnervingly thin, his skin so pale it was almost translucent, revealing the faint, grey network of veins beneath. But it was his eyes that stopped my breath—they were a flat, milky white, devoid of pupils, as if he were looking at a world we couldn't see.

“…is it just me, or does the marble look like it’s glowing?” Branches of milk white stone wrapped around one another, heavy with jagged thorns that looked sharp enough to break skin. They were woven together to form the very arch that outlined the casino doors. “It’s so pale, it almost looks like moonlight.” Nox said in quiet amazement. “What’s next?”

Marcus announced, grabbing my hand and leading me out of the room. I couldn't resist asking, "So, where exactly are we heading?" A mischievous smile played on his lips as he replied, "You'll find out soon enough. It's a surprise." Marcus and I walked further into the distance until I noticed the shiny light of an exquisite white marble. I took in everything from the walls to the window and the glass, the view of it was simply mystifying. Marcus nugged at me to press the bell which I did. The door was open and the white floor beneath me seemed to stretch a distance.

The mansion was a tomb made of white marble. It stood on a hill overlooking the city, enormous and sterile, its windows tall and narrow like watchful eyes. People admired it from a distance. They called it elegant, timeless, powerful. Inside, it was silent in the way hospitals were silent, not peaceful, but watchful, as if the walls themselves were listening for mistakes. For Mary, every day was a lesson in how to disappear while still breathing.