Prep Novels & Stories

The sense of peace I’ve been anticipating slowly seeps into my soul and body. As she continues to massage, I start to think about Leon and my twins, feeling that these quiet moments are so important in preparing me for parenthood. In my heart, I thank Regina for all her attention and kindness—a reminder that, despite so much that’s been missing in my life, there’s still love and support all around. *

The world-changing prophesy was not their concern; it was the turmoil and devastation that would prepare the path for their own ascension to power. As the party proceeded farther into the starry night, the demonic apparition released a frightening, bone-chilling laugh that appeared to ricochet through the woods. Their sinister plans were put in action, and the world will soon see the full scope of their malevolence.

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The book is called JERICHO (For obvious reasons) Follow my In$t@gr@m account of you want to read any of my kindle books or paperbacks : the handle us @authorkyliegopal.

I just needed to be inside these walls. ​"Good. You start today. We’re preparing for a press conference on the top floor. The CEO is making an appearance." ​My heart hammered against my ribs. The CEO. I followed a group of assistants into the high-speed elevator. As we ascended, my reflection in the polished metal doors looked different. The island glow was fading, replaced by a nervous pallor. I kept rehearsing what I would say if I saw him. 'Hi, Luke. Do you remember the sausages? Do you remember the shore?'

That makes sense. “So what are you in here for?” I ask Veronica. “Setting my high school on fire.” I raise both my eyebrows. “What?” “Nothing. Nothing at all.” The brown-haired guy sitting beside her says placing his two hands on both her shoulders. “That’s Connor Lord. Age 21, Grade B. He’s in here for selling drugs. Like Lots of ‘em.” “That's it? Just selling drugs?” Do people go to behavioral management schools for that? “And…maybe beating numerous guys half to death because they were late on payments.”

Myra decided to change her clothes before joining the lunch. After taking shower she looked at herself in the mirror. A 22 year old girl's reflection got reflected. A girl with 5 feet 11 inch height, ocean blue eyes, golden brown hair, perfect jawline and slim but masculine figure. People used to tell her that she is the mini version of Minerva. Myra sometimes thought in her mind, she really has very few features from her father Rana Pratap. Maybe only a bit of face cutting she has got. She wore a half sleeve t-shirt, with a black skinny jeans.

It’s got that official, clinical vibe, you know? Every morning, the same routine. A disembodied voice crackles through the intercom at 6 AM sharp, dragging us from whatever fragile dreams we managed to cling to. Make our beds, shower, get dressed. Precision is key. By 6:45 AM, we’re lined up for inspection, uniforms crisp, hair neatly combed. A watchful eye scans for any deviation, any rumple in the fabric of conformity. Breakfast at 7 AM, a bland, nutritious affair in a cavernous dining hall. Classes start at 8 AM, a relentless march of lectures and practicals that stretch until 3 PM. Then, a precious one-hour free time to socialize – or, in my case, to try and disappear into the library. A

*** Ready for more football with a visit from Killian? END OF PART ONE