One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest Kindle Novels & Stories

he talked to himself. “Mama, look what I brought!” Sky exclaimed while showing the book in her arms. Hunter and Rachel spontaneously turned around. “What is it, Honey?” Rachel asked as she filled her plate. “Uncle Ed's wife's travel journal! Do you remember, Mama? I once told you that her wife also had a journal like me. Uncle Ed was kind enough to lend it to me. How about you read this book to me tonight?" Rachel froze. Her eyes trembled at the plain brown cover. She didn't remember ever seeing the thick book, but a strange feeling tickled her chest.

Wren said out of nowhere. “Now? Are you serious?” Lindsay asked. “Not right now, but after we get things a little more back to normal around here. What do you think of the idea?” Wren asked, taking Lindsay’s hand. “I think that is a great idea,” she said. Standing on the bridge, they heard a sound that made them look at each other. It sounded like a giant bird flying. The water made it difficult to locate the source of the sound. They both began turning to pinpoint its location. It was unmistakably the flapping of wings. Lindsay could not help but say a silent prayer that it was an eagle, but her prayer was not answered. They both saw it when it emerged from the trees and crossed above the c

“Guess I’ll need security for Goose.” He smirked, his thumb brushing lazily over my shoulder. “I’ll take that gig.” The room smelled like candle wax and cinnamon, the kind of cozy chaos I’d once only written about. My notebook sat on the table, a clean new one with a sticker that read Book Two. I picked it up, running my fingers over the cover before flipping it open. The first page stared back at me, blank, full of promise. Goose flicked his tail, pressing his head against my arm like he was reminding me who the real inspiration was.

Before the nurse could respond, Mom angrily jabbed at the screen to end the call. Dad must have heard Mom yelling because he opened the door and asked, "Caitlyn's still here. Why are you shouting like a lunatic in the room?" Mom clutched her phone tightly to her chest and looked at Dad helplessly. "The nurse just said that Sean is already dead. That can't be true, can it?" Dad rolled his eyes. "Don't be so gullible. If the crash had really been that bad, that selfish brat would've dragged Felix down with him. How would Felix still be standing here, perfectly fine?"

I levelled the barrel at a dark shape in the trees, my finger tight on the trigger. A loud, mocking caw echoed through the cemetery. A raven perched on a low branch, its head tilted, staring at me with beady, knowing eyes. It flapped its wings once, settled, and watched me as if I were the most interesting thing to happen in this graveyard in a century.

Evan howled and was thrown back several yards. He scrambled to his feet instantly, his movements twitchy and unnatural, like a film reel skipping frames. The purple threads connecting him to the sky pulsed violently. High above on the blackened pine, the iridescent crow flapped its wings, cawing a rhythmic, mocking sound that felt like needles in my brain. "You like to watch, don't you?" I spat at the bird, never taking my eyes off the beast. "You want to see the Alpha of the Rogue fae torn apart by her own mate?"

I opened the book again now with a bright idea. Searching the little book, I saw something that got my eye, it was a small tunnel under the cottage, but it led to the castle, and in the middle, it was called something strange, “what the heck is a love nest?” I asked myself when I heard the laughter of some goofballs for friends but with others around them.

As I drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep, the last thing I felt was the weight of his hand on mine, a silent promise that in the middle of the Wilds, in the middle of a war, I was finally, truly safe. But outside the cave, a single raven with eyes of burning red landed on a frozen branch, watching the waterfall. It let out a sharp, mocking caw before taking flight toward the North—toward the heart of the Coven.

"It lit up." "Yes. It lit up." She turned her own small hand, warm with her own body heat, over and placed it palm up, resting it quietly in his palm. He didn't close his hand around it, just let it rest there. Her palm was warm. His was cool. Outside the window, in the pine forest, a Snowfeather bird with wings so translucent they seemed nearly invisible alighted on the highest pine crown. It ruffled its feathers, tilted its head back, and let out a thin, high cry, like the first crack forming on a sheet of ice.