Rachel Gibson Books Novels & Stories

A collection of classic children's books from Rachel — Goodnight Moon, Where the Wild Things Are, The Very Hungry Caterpillar. "These were my favorites," Rachel said quietly. Emma hugged her. "She's going to love them." Rachel pulled back. "I hope so." "She will. Because they're from you." --- At 3:00 PM, Emma sat down to rest. Her feet were swollen. Her back ached. The baby was kicking — not hard, but insistent, like she was trying to tell Emma something. "You're doing too much," Nick said, sitting beside her. "I'm sitting."

I did not want her looking too closely at my recent research topics. Rachel stepped into the room, her eyes scanning the cramped space. She picked one book up from the floor before I could reach it. She read the cover out loud. "Advanced Cellular Mutation," she read. She looked at me with a slightly raised eyebrow. "Oh, you are still into science stuff?" I nodded stiffly. "Yes." I walked up to her, politely collected the textbook from her hand, and kept it securely tucked under my arm. "That is interesting," she replied, completely unbothered by my rigid posture.

The atmosphere in the room suddenly turned quiet. Rachel furrowed her brow and turned to stare at Gwen with a look of disbelief. Rachel was a doctor who specialized in the treatment of comatose patients, so she had seen plenty during her time and was thus always able to keep calm even in stressful situations. To be frank, Rachel's first impression of Gwen had not been a good one. Rachel remembered the numerous times Gwen had tried to escape from Luke while in Merchant City. Not only that, but she even witnessed Gwen trying to persuade Kate to help her take care of Luke after she was gone.

Her chest tightened. She flipped the page. By chapter three, she was crying. By chapter five, she was shaking. By chapter ten, she was curled into the corner of her bed, clutching a blanket and whispering the words out loud like they were a prayer, or a spell, or a map that could take her somewhere she didn’t know she needed to go. The story wasn’t about her. Not really. But it was. There were pieces. Fragments. Moments that felt too sharp, too real, too close. A woman named Rachel. A whisper of a girl kept safe. A letter never sent. A family that healed itself with honesty and heartbreak.

With a contented sigh, Rachel leaned back against the pillows, relishing the quiet solitude of the moment. As she idly scanned the shelves of books and knick-knacks that lined the walls, her gaze fell upon a small stack of papers tucked beneath a pile of notebooks on the bedside table. Curiosity piqued, Rachel reached out and picked up the top sheet, her eyes widening in surprise as she realized what it was - a love letter. The handwriting was elegant and precise, each word carefully crafted with tender affection and heartfelt emotion. Rachel's heart skipped a beat as she read the intimate words scrawled across the page, her cheeks flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and excitement.

Her expression was unhurried. I returned to the desk and flipped to the next page of the notebook. There, in clean lines, I began to outline what would come next. Reintroducing myself into the world carefully. Using George’s connections to place me where I needed to be. Watching Adrian and Marissa’s every move before they ever noticed mine. I would chip away at them, quietly, until their perfect life began to crack under its own weight. Each step I wrote filled me with a strange calm, as I slowly came to the realization that ‘Rachel’ actually is dead. The Rachel who loved endlessly was killed off by the flames.

It was dawn and the sun’s ray casted long shadows across the ancient books scattered on the table. Rachel sat among them with her hands moving methodically as she flipped through pages and her brow was furrowed in concentration. The weight of the pack’s survival, of Gilly’s fate, and of Zone’s worsening condition, seemed to press down on all of us, but Rachel carried it with quiet determination. I stood near the door, pacing as I waited for her to find something—anything—that could guide us.

“She couldn’t have—” My voice trailed off as I thought about darkness. “Just be careful, Lila.” I looked back up at him and nodded. “I’ll see you later,” I said to him as I turned and left the arena. …. Rachel sat in the back corner of the library at a small table with her history textbook laid out in front of her. She had a notebook to the side of the textbooks with different colored notes sprawled out on the thin paper. She had her fingers dug into her dark hair and I could see that she was incredibly stressed.

There would be blood. And at the long run, there would be a price. He just hadn’t figured out who would pay it yet. .......... The smell of fresh bread and something sweet saturated the kitchen as light streamed in through the windows in Gabriella's apartment. Gabriella sat at the small dining table, with her laptop open but not in use. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, but her mind was elsewhere. Rachel moved around the kitchen barefooted while wearing one of Gabriella’s oversized sweatshirts. She set two mugs of tea on the table before flopping into the seat across from her.

~ (Raziel) Anthony brought me a whole stack of books, everything that he could find, every piece of literature known to the Underworld about dreamwalking. I had spent hours pouring over every book, committing everything I read to memory. I didn't want to miss a single thing. There had to be a way I could help Rayne. I was already so exhausted after the day I had endured. That, and all of this reading on top of it, had me fighting to stay awake. I swear I only closed my eyes one time and the next thing I know I'm dreamwalking.