Novel By Anthony Hope Novels & Stories

NICCO I was looking through my papers when there was a light knock at the door. “Enter,” I barked, thinking it was probably Vinnie. Instead, it was Hope holding my laptop. I immediately stood up. “Hope! What are you doing up?” It had only been five days since she was poisoned. I wanted her to take it easy. She flushed bright red. “I can’t take Vinnie’s cooking anymore,” she confessed. “I made lunch for everyone. It’s laid out in the dining room.” She gestured behind her shoulder, arbitrarily. “But I wanted to show you this, first.”

There were two famous deadweights in Kingsgate's high society. One was me, Millie Tanner, the pampered little princess whose only talents were shopping and throwing parties. The other was my childhood friend, Iver Langford, the fragile young heir born with autism and congenital heart failure. However, my older brother was the most feared name in the underworld, and my second brother was the richest man in the country. Iver's older sister was the undefeated queen of the courtroom, and his second sister was a surgeon whose hands could bring back the dead. One day, the four of them were chatting over a game of poker. "Raising one hopeless case takes the same effort as two. Might as well pair

The golden rain of the Accountant’s dissolution had barely touched the soil of Port Trinity before the air grew heavy with a new, static charge. On the pier, Hope Thorne clutched the copper rings and the London book, her eyes fixed on the ridge where the silhouettes of Julian and Clara had just vanished into the morning mist.

Dylan's tone of voice is more serious and cold, with a touch of anger. " Your lineage is far more complex." I looked up, seeing the azure sky, almost cloudless. "Something I realized a few weeks ago is that the people around Hope weren't brought together by chance. Everyone is special in some way. Did you know that I didn't know the name of any of the wolves in Hope's little club? I've seen and felt their wolves and she-wolves, but they don't speak their names or demonstrate their gifts." "Hope hates Fate, but she is surrounded by Him. I'm not just talking about Aphrodite's gift. In general, the beings that surround Hope are powerful and mysterious. Somehow, I know that Hope can awaken power

“I want to get out of here. Ryan is going to be so angry, I know it. I want to just head south and start over. Go back home, see how my grandfather's bar is doing. Maybe get that up and running again. Avoid dying of plague.” “Then you need to see Arlen. He knows where the snowmobile keys are kept. Pack a bag. Reject Ryan and just go for it. It will take a couple of days, but you’ll hit south, then you’ll be on foot?” “I'm sure I was the confident one before all this,” Hope half joked. I wanted to ask what happened to her art? Conquering the world and making her mother proud? My mother always warned me that not everyone could come out unscathed the Freeze. Hope was the tragic proof.

On a windy day, I imagine the living room will get rather chilly. This evening, I am home alone with Clay and Hope. I don’t know where the three others are, and I never ask. Hope is sitting on the floor with an old sketchbook and a couple of coloring pencils. That’s her way of relaxing… disappearing into her own world of drawings and fantasy. Sometimes I wish I could follow her. Clay is on the couch, propped up on pillows to make it somewhat comfortable for him. I’m sitting in the armchair Adis normally uses. I’ve found an old history book. It’s really boring, but I hoped it could spark some kind of memory.

Cassie sat down, letting her heels sink into the grass, as Hope handed over the small leather-bound notebook she’d been sketching in. On the cover, written in delicate calligraphy, were the words: Our Story. Cassie opened it, her throat tightening. Inside were pages filled with drawings tiny moments from their lives: the day Ethan was born, family trips, Hope’s first day at school, her parents dancing in the kitchen. “I want to turn it into a graphic novel one day,” Hope said, brushing her hair behind her ear. “To show people what real love looks like.” Cassie wiped her eyes, speechless.

But then the things Ethan had done for years kept coming back to her mind, leaving her restless and in fright. The night turned darker and the world went silent. There was nothing but darkness outside and she did not hear any sound of footsteps coming her way. And then even though she did not want to put her guard down, she closed her eyes and drifted to sleep without knowing when it slipped behind her swollen eyes. ***** Hope climbed out of not the car, actually, stomped out of it, and started walking away. The freshness of the early morning felt like a new wave of life. She had taken one step ahead when her hand was pulled and clasped in someone else's.

Would I have pushed myself so hard that I developed night blindness? Ever since my mom passed away, I had never planned to live through the apocalypse alone. It was Janine who had once clung to me, crying, saying she didn’t want to die. From that day on, I built the shelter under the blazing heat until my heart nearly stopped from heatstroke. I drank with powerful figures in the construction industry to secure resources, drinking until I was rushed to emergency treatment three times in one night. In the end, all my effort was destroyed by a ridiculous theory of “natural selection” and a glorified refrigerated warehouse. My vision blurred with blood, and the world in front of me doubled and w

"That's why I said it." Hope, who had apparently overheard more of this conversation than any of us had noticed, appeared from the hallway with the composed expression she wore when she'd been listening to something important and had formed a view. "The first book was about people choosing honesty," she said. "The second book should be about people who have no choice but honesty and the world that makes that choice cost too much." She went upstairs without waiting for a response, leaving the three of us in the kitchen with her summary of the project sitting in the air with the specific, clarifying quality of an accurate statement offered without embellishment.