Rachel Joy Scott Journal Novels & Stories

Author's POV As soon as Marcela cradled the baby in her toned arms, Scott felt something shift in the air. Like the smell of sulfur before lightning struck. The clap of thunder that followed the flash. It was almost imperceptible, yet it resonated deep within him, a pull so powerful that it made his heart hammer wildly against his ribs, begging for freedom. For the first time in a long while, his wolf stirred awake, a low growl of recognition reverberating in his mind.

"I don't even mind it so much, and I try to be understanding of her personal situation and even her drunkenness, but then she takes it too far; every time! She'll either put her fingers under the waist of my pants, or rub over my back pockets, or she'll start kissing my neck! It freaks me out and I have to push her away and leave her standing there. I feel bad when I do it, I really do, but what am I supposed to do?! She doesn't even remember anything about it the next day." Rachel looked at me for what felt like an hour. It was hard to meet her gaze. I could feel her intense eyes assessing my natural expressions, taking in my 'energy' as it were. I was getting a little upset and uncomfortab

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.

Cecilia and Raymond would face justice, and River would ensure her mother's love and sacrifices were never forgotten. River's eyes lingered on the final entry, her mother's words etched in her mind like a solemn promise. "December 15th," the journal read, the date scribbled in faint, shaky script. "I see the end approaching," Catherine wrote, her words laced with a sense of resignation and urgency. "Cecilia's smile haunts me. Raymond's indifference cripples me. My final wish: River's freedom, her happiness, and her safety." The journal's final entry ended abruptly, leaving River with more questions than answers. The sudden silence was deafening, a stark reminder of her mother's tragic fate.

But Rachel wasn’t thinking about going back to Gem Hills any time soon. She spent the rest of the day hiding in her old bedroom away from the August visitors who had heard that she was back in Ermernia. Any false move and she would be hiding from people trying to take pictures of her. It was later during the day while she was watching two birds have a conversation about which electric lines to land on that Mabel brought the newspaper one of their old neighbors, Mrs. Smith, the renowned town’s gossip had brought on her visit to see if the rumors were true. True to Nate’s warnings, they made front page. There she was in his arms. Well given her affinity for the front pages lately she wasn’t su

However, just then, two nurses who were doing their rounds passed the doorway, speaking in low voices. "Rachel next door is so lucky. Her husband stayed up all night to take care of her and did everything himself." "I know. He's handsome, rich, and devoted. I'm so envious!" Scott stiffened, and he instantly did not know where to look. My lips curled into a slightly mocking smirk, but my chest hurt from it. To break the silence, Scott pulled out a drawing from his briefcase. "Ma'am, I went to your house this morning to pick up some documents, and I saw this on the couch. I believe Morgan had drawn this, and I thought it would make you happy just seeing it."

A man possibly in his mid-fifties approached her. “Trabajo aquí.” “No, digo… fuera del trabajo.” “Fuera del trabajo duermo.” “Qué triste vida.” “Muy eficiente, en realidad.” Rachel shuts down subtle flirting with dry humour. At one point, she reached under the counter for a fresh set of napkins and briefly noticed her notebook there, slightly bent at the edges from being opened too many times that week. She hesitated for half a second before pulling it out. The pages were filled with rough sketches and short notes she had been making between shifts. Dress ideas. Fabric thoughts. A few lines about colour combinations she wasn’t even sure she liked yet.

When I suggest we try actual food, she shushes me. “They don’t want food, Ash,” she says seriously. “They want chaos. Shiny chaos.” I nod gravely. “And your journal qualifies.” “It has a ribbon,” she says, as if it’s the most logical thing in the world. We spend an hour in the trees, watching the traps, whispering theories. Scarlett sketches a raven with devil horns and labels it “RINGLEEDER FLUFFTAIL.” Eventually, she gets bored and falls asleep on my cloak.

Falling into a dreamless sleep, she did not see, nor hear Allison, frantically calling her name. ………… Rachel woke up just after 11. She snuggled under the blankets, holding Galen’s pillow, which carried his scent, close to her heart. She reached for her cell but there was no message from him yet. He was probably on the road, contemplating his conversation with his brothers.

To pass the time until Leo comes, Rachel sat in the office lobby and pulled out her diary and pen from her bag, writing her random words. ‘Of most of the scenic pieces of the day, it was how the cold clouds traveled here and there in the sky. Frosty yet clear… energetic yet lazy… lightening yet the gray linings shine more than the blazing fiery hues of cast spell by the sun on them.’ She wrote the first few lines, then chewed the back of the pen, pondering some more.