Poetry Booms Novels & Stories

I powered up my bot, ready to showcase my dynamic anthropomorphic design… And it exploded. The blast tore through me, leaving me critically injured, and I was rushed to the ICU. With me out of the picture, Adrian sailed to victory with two million in prize money, a personal mentorship under a legendary scientist, and a golden future laid out before him. Meanwhile, I lay in a hospital bed, clinging to life. Then came the final blow: the competition staff announced that my robot contained large amounts of flammable and explosive materials, implying I had planned to sabotage the event and had blown myself up in the process.

How cute, it kinda goes against her whole bag gyal look “I see you’re a sweet talker, a poet maybe?” “You tell me why a girl such as pretty as yourself with silver eyes like diamonds dipped in platinum, gleaming like shards would go for a regular guy sitting by the bar sipping whiskey” “Well… let’s just say, you’re special. And a sweet talker too” She laughs

My marriage was dead, and my life was barely intact. Even the child I had once looked forward to, she had conceived with her lover. I struggled to breathe, my fists clenched tightly. I really wanted to know what expression Tara would make when she learned the truth. Would she still be able to keep that tender, loving look? Just imagining it made a laugh slip out of me. Tara's expression darkened instantly, her eyes full of malice. Just as she was about to cuss me out, her butler, Matthew Stroll, stumbled in, his face pale with panic. "Ms. Brewer, Mr. Robles is gone!"

I stared at the ceiling, "I can talk to him for hours about literally nothing and not get bored. His laugh that he doesn't show a lot, it's deep and beautiful and his eyes light up when he's genuinely laughing. He calls me Bloom like it's my real name and it makes me feel special to him because he's the only one who can call me that otherwise it won't feel right. Every time he stands so close to me and I just feel like I'm going to melt. He cares about me so much, he'll hardly let me drive alone and will give me a ride even if I have my car. He always makes sure I get home safe. When he gets bored while I'm trying to tutor him and starts throwing random things like erasers or pillows or chip

*Boom* And the world grew dark

Their argument had escalated to such an extent that it felt more like a theatrical performance than a serious dispute. Xavier made grand gestures, dramatically pointing at paint swatches spread out on the coffee table. "Davina, you just don't understand. Navy blue is the epitome of sophistication. It's bold, elegant, and timeless." Davina, arms crossed defiantly, scoffed at his theatrics. "Sophistication, Xavier? It's just a color! Beige is warm and inviting. Navy blue will make the room look like a haunted mansion." The back-and-forth continued with exaggerated gestures and sarcastic quips, leaving them both entrenched in their positions. It was as if they were characters in a comedy sketch

Even so, Madeline turned off her phone without replying and took a deep breath. She had already made up her mind. Since she was done with all of it, there was no use grieving over people who'd never been worth it. … The divorce wouldn't be official for another couple of weeks. So, Madeline and Sophie spent those days traveling through Calastra, visiting old cathedrals scattered across the countryside. The entire journey felt like a quiet baptism—one that penetrated from body to soul. Everything she had once held onto now felt insignificant. The trip changed everything. It brought a quiet sense of renewal that finally gave Madeline's restless heart some peace.

My body lay on the ground, completely shattered and looking nothing like me anymore. Meanwhile, my soul floated mid-air, looking down at my body from above. I didn't feel sad or any sort of anguish, moreso a sense of release. After floating in the air for god-knows how long, Jamie arrived at the scene of the explosion along with a team of police officers. One of them said, "We discovered some gunpowder at the scene, so it seems like the perpetrator made the bomb themselves, but we still can't lock in on the identity of the victim."

Chapter 1 little-angel POV. The funeral of the alpha of the Moonlit Claws pack had ended just a few days before. Life was slowly trickling back to normal, the hush of grief giving way to the anticipation of the upcoming ceremony. "The Shadowboom Unveiling", that sacred rite where the Moongoddess would designate the new alpha and show us our mates for under 18. I was joined by two of my childhood friends, Sunshine and Sunrise, as we made our way towards the apple groves .

--- The Pulse It came not divine command, not war’s drum, but the steady count of living. Boom. The seam flared white, then violet, then a black that wasn’t absence but depth. For one heartbeat, the shattered Loom above Solara flickered back bright as memory. Spire-ruins glowed like plans rewritten. Boom. The sound rolled through dens and kitchens. Wolves lifted their heads. Children on roofs sang wrong notes right. A thief withdrew her hand from a pocket and, for one night, did honest work. Boom. The beat settled into the ash like a seed certain of spring.