Porch Lights Novel Novels & Stories

**Emma's POV** A blinding light seared through my eyelids, wrenching me from the abyss of unconsciousness. My eyes fluttered open, squinting against the harsh illumination that seemed to burn from every direction. I blinked rapidly as my vision adjusted, finding myself no longer in Nicholas's home but in a forest drenched in an ethereal glow. The trees around me emanated a soft, pulsating light, their leaves shimmering like fragments of fallen stars.

The light still in the sky at a new hour. The specific gift of the returning days. More light. A little more each evening. The garden visible in it. The rosemary with its new growth at the tips. The small pale beginning of what was coming. She thought about all the rooms she had ever occupied. The packhouse room with its eastern window. The infirmary where she had heard the word liability and made the decision. The safe house forty miles west. Maren's blue door. The Council chamber with its worn floors and honest light.

Without light, darkness consumed everything. Interesting. Very interesting. Later that night, after peace finally returned, Ava stood alone on the back porch. The air felt cold. Sharp. Clean. Snow reflected moonlight across the garden. Creating a world of silver and white. Beautiful. Quiet. Temporary. She wrapped her coat more tightly around herself. Then closed her eyes briefly. Thinking. Reflecting. The past few months replayed through her mind. The healing. The discoveries. The growth. Everything. So much had changed. Yet so much remained unfinished.

He just crept up behind me when I was looking out the window and did it. ~~~~ The next day when I woke up, it just felt odd. I felt like I rested for too long. That's when I looked at the small table beside the bed. Four books were there. Stacked up. I quickly got up and saw the time. My eyes widened in shock. It was eight at night!! That made me realize that the Dark Prince had already gone for war. I sat on the bed trying to shake the tiredness away. That's when I heard a knock.

She would hide them under the couches during the day and bring them out at night . "It's cold isn't it? I'll go get us some blankets." Nova whispers, finding solace in the snores that could be heard from their mother's bedroom. It was a chilly evening , nonetheless the faint sunlight shone upon the ground , lighting up the dirt of the streets . Nova's hands push open the creaky front door , freezing as it made more noise than usual . She looks around , wondering if she had accidentally woken up her mother . When no sounds were out of place , she sighed with relief and slipped out with a gentle closing of the door.

Slightly underdone in the middle, exactly how I liked them, the centers still molten and warm when we cut in. We ate them on the back porch under the string lights he’d rehung last spring (obscene amounts, as promised hundreds of warm white bulbs looped through the pergola and trailing down the railing like captured stars). The dogs sprawled at our feet, snoring in stereo Milton’s deep, rumbling snores harmonizing with Puck’s softer, wheezy ones. I leaned against his shoulder still broad, still solid, silver now threading through the dark hair at his temples in thin, distinguished streaks that made my chest ache in the best way.

there are tears in his eyes as he stares deeply into mine. Reaching out I cup his face in my hands. “Then let me go,” I whisper gently. “Or I will dig your grave.” An evil smile spreads across my lips and Walter steps out of my way. Just then a bright light fills the cabin. Both of us run outside and see a beacon of light coming from the direction of the Royal Mansion. The light is so bright and blinding that it looks like it is midday even though it is close to midnight. Slowly the light fades away leaving darkness in its wake.

He jerked his head toward the hall. “Fine. Let’s go.” The men parted like water as he strode towards the door that led to the porch, me beside him. My legs felt weak, my chest heavier with every step, but I walked anyway. The corridors flooded with sunlight, sharp beams cutting across marble floors and shadowed walls. The brightness felt wrong, almost mocking, as if the day itself wanted me exposed. The double doors creaked open. The porch spread before us, light bouncing off the pale stone. The heat of the day pressed down, relentless.

JULIAN ST. CLAIR’S POV *Low lighting. Shadows cling to the bookshelves, stretching like secrets. Rain whispers against the tall windows. The storm outside is gentle — almost tender. I sunk my bottocks in my chair, alone at my desk, a half-empty glass of whiskey in my hand. A bottle of something old and expensive rests beside me.*

Lila’s P.O.V. The porch swing creaked under my weight as I rocked back and forth, the blankets piled around me doing little to ward off the chill that had settled deep in my bones. Dawn was breaking now, a pale gray light filtering through the bare vines, turning the vineyard into a ghost of itself. The guest house light had gone out sometime in the night—Ethan must have finally slept, or at least turned it off to brood in the dark. I envied him that, the ability to shut off the world. My eyes burned from staring into the shadows, my mind a relentless loop of Noah's cries, Damien's cruel text, Shayla's innocent questions.