Reads By The River Novels & Stories

She was building with light. "She's doing the pattern again," a voice said. River walked into the room. He was five now. He didn't wear the cape anymore—it hung on a hook in his room, retired but respected—but he carried his lamb tucked under his arm like a football. He sat down next to Aurora. He looked at Grace in the bassinet. He touched the baby’s hand gently. "She's sleeping," River whispered. "She is," Aurora said. "She likes the quiet." "Hope isn't quiet," River observed. "She's thinking loud."

I made my way to my favorite bench, situated perfectly off the river trail, where I could sit and lose myself in thought. The gentle rustle of pages turning in a book was a familiar comfort here, as I'd spent countless hours reading and watching the world go by. The trail was always bustling with people, their footsteps and murmured conversations a soothing background hum. But it was the river that truly calmed my mind, its gentle flow a constant reminder of the beauty and tranquility that existed beyond the shadows. As I settled into the bench, the canopy of shade above me seemed to deepen, enveloping me in a cool, tranquil atmosphere. With a swift motion, I snapped my fingers, and a book m

Although the thought of it made me a little embarrassed, he obviously knew what he was doing. River was apparently waiting for me on the couch while reading a white-covered book that from its thickness I estimated to contain three hundred to four hundred pages. He raised his head and put the book down on the table when he noticed me. "Are you ready to face Evan?" he asked. "In a minute," I replied. His question suddenly made me nervous. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. River was still faithfully watching me as he sat back on the couch. "Come on." I extended my hand toward him, waving it quickly to invite him to come over.

But suddenly. “Mommy, Daddy.” A cry from a little girl echoes right in front of him and from the other end of the bridge. The night that is deep and quiet makes the crying echoes. The burning cars in front of them and the smell of intoxicating burns are raising. He stops crying, now pitying the little girl that just got his attention. He turns his gaze in front and saw the little one dressed in red, full of wounds, and crying hard. Her cheeks are red from crying and her nose seems to swell because of the same reason. The lights from the bridge made him see her clearly, or perhaps he is only seeing himself from her.

"Uhm sometimes, the Alpha overworks us." "I don't think i like our Alpha very much," Ro huffed. "No, i mean i overwork myself too much. Appreciate the alpha, he's a great person," he said quickly, making Ro look at him skeptically. "So you found the river at the library?" he continued speaking. "I read about it there. The river is the only place that comes from the Artemis waterfalls. I heard that place is beautiful," Ro sighed. "It is," he replied absentmindedly. "Hmm how do you know?"

His promises to me were as fragile as bubbles, vanishing into thin air. When I was ten, the River family adopted me. My father and Rowan's dad, Patrick River, had been good friends. When my father was diagnosed with cancer, he entrusted me to Patrick before he passed. When I first arrived at the Rivers household, everyone except Patrick was cold to me. Since I was adopted, the maids and even Rowan's mother thought it was unnecessary to show me any respect. I had to tiptoe around, just trying to survive in that house.

It was like he didn't hear me enter the bedroom. River finished the paragraph he was on before he glanced up at me. “Reading,” he said. River looked down, but then his head snapped back up. The book dropped from his hands, and his lips parted. Even though he laid on his stomach with his ankles crossed, I saw his chest rise and fall. His breathing became erratic as his eyes explored me head to toe.

A footbridge, sure—but would that be enough against the merciless current swirling beneath us? As the group started rummaging through their packs for supplies, ideas bouncing around like snowflakes in a snowstorm, I felt an inexplicable pull toward the river. My heart hammered as I moved closer to the water's edge, kneeling to listen intently to its roar. There was something more than just raw power in this river—something haunting. I closed my eyes, shutting out the frantic rustle of my friends, and focused on the whispers carried by the wind. They felt like the last laments of those who had dared to face the river before us, souls caught in the icy grip of despair.

he starts, then opens the book and I see him swallow uncomfortably when he gets to the first chapter, "These are way too many words for a kids' book." "Read them," I demand, but Cassie takes the book away from him before he can even try, "If he doesn't try, he'll never learn, Cass." "He proved he knows how to read, now you shut the hell up," she growls at me, actually pissed. I shut my mouth, "He doesn't have to prove shit to you." "Yeah, I don't," River scoffs, then he looks up at Cassie and their eyes lock, "Why is he even here, Cassandra? Tell him to fuck off."

River added in a grumbling tone, which made Daisy even more flustered. River lowered the blanket a little so his eyes could look at Daisy. Even though he just woke up and looked sleepy, those eyes never failed to make Daisy feel nervous and intimidated. The strange thing was, even though that charming gaze always bothered her, Daisy was so addicted that she couldn't take her eyes off anything other than those two that seemed to hypnotize her. "Morning kiss," River muttered, which made Daisy's eyes widen. "Pardon?" Daisy asked, unsure of what she had just heard.