New Orleans Novel Novels & Stories

A text from an unknown number. *Cemetery Keeper says hello. Asks when the Bridge will pay her debt. A memory owed is a memory paid.* Her blood went cold. She looked back toward home, where Kai was facing whatever came next alone. "Drive faster," she told Smith. "About New Orleans..." Smith's hands tightened on the wheel. "I've been there before. During my drifting years." "Okay?" "I met Marie Thibodaux. She's Marie Laveau's descendant. Direct bloodline."

Jaws clenched, he willed himself to look away and just focus straight ahead. Joseph has so many questions running through his head. On top of that, his head is throbbing as though he was punched by an Old Earth gorilla. His whole body sore from whatever force that passed through him. He's left a little dazed still by the whole encounter; most of which he knows nothing of. One moment he had the Marine officer dead to rights, but the next moment, a violent rush of something. Then nothing. Then her.

So we left the territory and we drove through that town that I went to last night and drove on to New Orleans. It was a couple of hours away from the pack and I wasn’t expecting us to go so far away when he told me last night that it was so dangerous to leave the territory. But I didn’t care right now. I was happy to be here. I had never been to New Orleans before and once I got out of the car and I looked around at the city, I couldn’t help the smile that crept onto my face.

She instructed her best friend and rushed to the bathroom. "What's this?" Tasha found something on her desk. she picked up the booklet and turned the pages, "A new novel?" she exclaimed. "Wait!" Arielle shouted from the bathroom, she had the habit to write it down instead of typing her stories, she used her gift to write 2-3 chapters of her new novel last night before going to bed. She rushed out with the toothbrush still on her hand. "Give that to me." "Nope. You're writing a new novel? A romance novel at that?" Tasha ran around the room reading the notes.

Ten years ago, the first string of homicides rained down on New Orleans, my home, the place I was born and raised in. Crime was always present, but I don’t remember them being this bad. There was still rape, domestic violence cases, robbery, and even fights. Homicides just randomly joined the crime category. It wasn’t as bad as first, but once I turned fourteen, it increased. Once that happened, mom sheltered me for the rest of my teen years.