Nightmare Soup Book Novels & Stories

Damien watched her leave, feeling amused and wondering why she bothered with such a trivial task as cooking soup. Upon returning to her room, Jane took a shower, chatted with Jonathan on the phone for nearly an hour, and then began to feel drowsy. She turned off the lights and went to bed, quickly drifting off to sleep. However, her slumber was interrupted by a nightmare. In her dream, a raging fire blazed while thick smoke filled the air, causing chaos as people tried to flee and cries for help echoed in the air.

Its aroma is a little comforting, but everything feels not right. I’m here, sitting, but my mind isn’t. I’m still trapped in my nightmare, sinking into it. “You’ve been having nightmares again,” my mother says, with a voice of concern. “It’s becoming frequent, Snow.” I didn't answer. I don’t know what to say. Instead, I take a sip of the soup, letting the warmth settle in my mouth, but it does nothing to calm the tremble in my hands. I can’t tell them the truth. I can’t tell them what really happened 7 years ago.

She glanced over it and moved to the second one. It had a bunch of figures written down. Why would she have needed uber or to have more internet? Didn't she have a vehicle? She'd been in a car accident where she'd been driving. She was really confused now. She flipped through that book, too. At the end of it, she saw what looked like a code. What did that go to? A password maybe? Did she have a password on her phone? She decided to put everything back and lay down. She was actually tired. She'd just take a quick nap. She didn't even realize she had fallen asleep. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the boys had left my room, I went through my bag and pulled out my favorite book, Night Flame, by Catherine Hart. I sat back in my chair by the window, prepared to spend the rest of the afternoon reading when a shiver ran down my spine. I jumped out of my seat and spun around to see a pair of yellow eyes glowing in the corner of the room. As those eyes drew closer to me, I realized that it was Simon, the fae that came to warn me the other day.

he said "I was not aware" Juana said. The house was boring and dull without Dawn. No one had even cleaned anywhere. The chairs were dusty, the plates were in the kitchen sink, unwashed. The laundry was beside the washing machine, unwashed. One dining chair was empty. Mom's seat was empty. Her laughter that reverberated around the house was gone. Dinner was Vine-Ripe Pink Tomato soup and Toast. There was a plate of roast beef too. It tasted exactly the way Dawn's cooking tasted and that gave Juana a sick feeling, like someone-wants-to-replace-my-mom feeling. 'He must have looked up her recipes somewhere' she thought. She was really hungry but she stopped eating after four spoonfuls. She had l

The one he was looking at was a picture of a kid with the words dead written across it. “Is… is this all the kids he gave to the Nightmare Master?” he asked in a dark tone as he looked over all the pictures. “No, these are all the people he lost when living on the streets.” Aiden told us as he reached up and touched a picture that looked a lot like Illusion as a kid.

Arthur just shrugged. Mila gave him a vexed look and flipped through the pages. She was looking for a cannibal who was scared of light, but there were quite a few monsters mentioned in this book that were cannibals and were afraid of light. So, she started looking at illustrations to see if any bite marks matched the victims, but there was nothing. “Oh, this was a waste,” Mila snapped the book shut. Arthur was still very quiet. “What is wrong with you?” Mila demanded.

As the first light of dawn painted the sky, Drew and Jette faced the uncertain day ahead—a day that held the promise of unraveling the mysteries that lingered in the shadows of dreams and the echoes of a past that seemed to resurface in the most unexpected ways. The dawn broke with hues of soft pinks and golds, casting a gentle glow upon the apartment as Jette and Drew sat on the edge of their bed, grappling with the residual unease from the night's disturbance. The old journal, a silent witness to the unfolding events, lay between them like a bridge between reality and the inexplicable. "Drew," Jette began, her voice tinged with a mixture of apprehension and determination, "the book from my

Bianna didn’t turn from the soup. “I have reasons.” “You said, ‘I was not born to hear this,’ while looking out the window like a widow in a period film.” “Accurate.” I took a spoon from the drawer and tasted the soup straight from the pot before Bianna could slap my hand. She slapped my hand. “Wait for a bowl.” “I just woke up from a coma.” “Even a glamorous coma needs manners.” The soup was good. Warm, lemony, a little thyme, the chicken tender, the carrots small enough not to trigger Issa’s revolution. I took a bowl for myself.

PROLOGUE Oops! I Slept in the Wrong Bed Some mistakes can be fixed with a simple apology. Some can be erased by simply forgetting they ever happened. But what if one mistake became the beginning of a story you never expected? Maeve Quinn Ramos is a hardworking, playful, and delightfully absent-minded college student who has just moved into a condominium near her university. Burdened by endless school requirements, sleepless nights, and a schedule that never seems to slow down, all she wants is to find a comfortable bed where she can finally get a good night's sleep.