Novel Stonewall Station Novels & Stories

And then the cycle would begin anew. Leaving the woman in the snow—she had finally subsided into an immobile hump—they ran toward the station. They almost collided with a solid wall of people who blocked the wrought-iron gate which normally would be unbolted and guarded by a Patrolman with a torch. Now the gate was half-closed and a bunch of people inside the station were apparently trying to close it completely, while the people outside were just as determined to keep it open and to push through. Shouts and curses filled the air. The pristine snow was being trampled into a filthy slush that sent some people flying off their feet. Children were crying, women wailing. From behind Svetlana and

I said. "You look like trouble," she added. "I've been told." She grunted and handed me the key. Transaction complete. Best landlord I've ever had, and the only one, but still. --- The market district of Stonewillow is louder, cheaper, and considerably more honest than the residential quarters where families like the Ragnars maintain their minor dignity. I spend the first three mornings of my new residency doing exactly what the System demands — completing missions before sunrise, using the empty alley behind the noodle shop as my training ground — and then walking through the market as it wakes up, learning its geography, its rhythms, its gossip.

" … The next day, I booked a flight to Emerald Rise. Standing on their streets, surrounded by strangers and unfamiliar faces, I felt like I could finally breathe again. 'So, as it turns out, it isn't so bad to travel alone after all.' I pulled out the travel itinerary I had carefully prepared and explored the place like any ordinary tourist. When I got tired, I'd stop and listen to people around me tell their stories. Only then did I realize—everyone in this world carried their own burdens. Around a corner, I unexpectedly ran into Elias. I froze for a moment, then walked right past him like a stranger. He grabbed my arm, so I turned back. His eyes were red. He stared at me with that familiar

If they knew what we were doing, it could destroy our careers. "We need you to go with us to the church," said Stonewall as he was already calm from our confrontation. "You seem to know a lot about that place, been spending a lot of time there lately. You got a problem with it?" Stonewall was still rubbing the wrong way as he walked towards the door. Sergeant Gulbrandsen stood as a barrier between us until I nodded that I would be fine. I was going to have to get in the same car with this asshole. This was just going to make my freaking day. It was a quiet ten-minute ride to Potters' House. Stonewall swiped through his phone until he found the song he was looking for. Everybody wants to go t

June followed with her nose scrunched up and with the footsteps of the guards behind her beating on her eardrums. Their journey came to a halt in front of a single old mahogany door that was pushed open with two straight faced guards guarding it. Jason pushed through and into the airless, dim room. The room was empty save for a squeaky wooden chair and a dirty desk in front of it. There, silent and slouched on the chair was Gorah. Shirtless and with his head bowed, fingers interloked and the table before him. He didn't move them due to the silver cuffs blanketing his wrists. He heard his captor come in but he didn't bother lifting his head. June let her eyes scan the tiny room that was in de

With a sound that shook the very foundations of the earth, the station—a mile-long city of steel—crashed into the ocean less than five miles from their platform. The impact created a second, smaller wave and a pillar of steam that rose thousands of feet into the air. The station didn't sink immediately. Because of its Pneumatic Compartments (air-filled sections designed to keep it afloat), the wreckage sat in the water like a burning, skeletal island. "Thorne is in there," Elara said, standing up. Her hair was matted with salt, and the violet sparks in her eyes were now a steady, piercing flame. "He’s in the core."

"Fine. Keep him safe. I swear, if he comes back with even a single scratch..." "He won't," Kael promised. "I'll carry him." "And no sugar! He gets hyperactive!" Jackson shouted before the call cut out. "Too late," Julian licked orange dust off his fingers. "Let's go," Nova said. "The compass is pulling." They picked the rusty lock of the service gate and descended into the station. It was breathtaking. The Ghost Station was a time capsule. The curved ceilings were covered in beautiful emerald and cream Guastavino tiles. Elegant brass chandeliers hung from the arches, covered in decades of dust. It was dead silent.

I swallowed hard, realizing that my mouth was dry. I found myself backed up against the wall in my room, Declan impossibly close to me. "I can't wait to see you in your swimsuit." He told me, his warm breath fanning my neck as he whispered in my ear. The action sent chills all over my body. I was suddenly painfully aware that I was still topless, and regained some of my senses. "Declan! Get out of here, and let her change!" Talia scorned, tapping her foot in the doorway. "Yeah Declan, give the girl some privacy!" Cian appeared behind her. "Everybody out! I would like to change in peace." I scolded all of them. They piled out into the hallway, and I shut and locked the door behind them.

In the police headquarters of all the police stations in the New City district of the state, Sheriff Stone Stanley, well-kitted in his sheriff uniform, elegant, tall, young, and average muscular, walked into the long horizontal Hall heading directly to the lane that leads to offices. All the police officers stood unconsciously looking at him while he walked in like one viewed in a slow-motion manner.

“I cleaned. I wrote. I waited.” “I painted. I cried. I healed.” “That’s all I needed to hear.” “I’m coming back full,” she said. “You better be,” he said, “because we’ve got a whole new life to paint.” ⸻ The Train Station Union Station was chaos—children dragging backpacks, businessmen yelling into Bluetooths, lovers holding each other like goodbyes could be postponed with tighter grips. Elena stood on the platform, ticket in one hand, sketchbook in the other.