Resurrection: A Novel Novels & Stories

Just let me rewrite this…Let me rewrite me. A single tear slipped from the corner of her eye. Then… nothing. No nurses rushing in. No family holding her hand. Just the sound of rain. And silence. ——— There was a bright flash of light. The first thing she noticed was the warmth. Followed by the feeling of soft sheets that might have just been under the sun, then drizzled with lavender scent. A quiet hum from outside…people? Elara's eyes flew open. She sat up, heart slamming against her ribs. Her hands were smooth. Her wrists unscarred and her hair long, thick, not hacked off during another "episode."

I hovered somewhere deep inside myself, watching from a distance like a god observer as my form lay cradled against the forest floor, skin pale, lips parted, chest rising shallowly. Weak. So weak. This was not a resurrection that left me whole. It was a resurrection that left me empty. The power that had torn me back had taken something in exchange. Not my life, but my innocence. The simple belief that survival was guaranteed, that love was protection enough. Then, I felt Edward before I heard him and that, somehow, anchored me.

The site had once served as a military water reserve, storing liquid silver bombs during the civil war, but it had long been abandoned. The seal had cracked open, revealing a woman's body. Rotting flesh was tangled in foul sludge, and the stench of decay was overwhelming. The police flooded the scene. Behind them came Dad, the werewolves' top officer, and my brother, the medical examiner. They assumed this was just another rogue attack. It never crossed their minds that the body might belong to their own daughter or sister. Floating above my lifeless body, I watched as my brother, Jacob Rosen, crouched down. He deftly shifted my shattered finger bones, pried open my jaw, and examined the str

That's why I'm going to have a sit-down and see whether I want to deal or not. I wondered what it would be like, to focus on something else for once. To look forward to living when I'd been so hellbent on dying. Knowing that you'd lived past the day you thought you were going to be dead is an odd feeling. It doesn't feel so much like borrowed time but a rebirth.

Evan squeezed harder, making Carmen cough. "Die!" "Do you really want me dead? Don't you want to know where Lyra's head is?" Carmen used the last of her strength to say this. Evan froze for a moment before slowly releasing his grip. After a while, Carmen got up and opened the fridge. There were two glass jars inside with my head and kidney both soaking in formaldehyde.

Dante had let me take it from the library. Opening it, the words appeared again as if they had been there all along: “The resurrection of your powers is coming. I hope you are prepared for it, Moonbound.” The words scribbled and vanished as soon as I finished reading them, as though they didn’t want anyone else to be able to read that part except me. Resurrection of my powers? I didn’t even know what powers I had to begin with. A few minutes later, I felt a strange sensation ghosting over my skin—soft at first, then sharper, as though the air itself had teeth. It crawled down my spine and settled low in my belly, a quiet ache that pulsed in time with the moon outside the window.

Come pick a bouquet from these Flowers in a Dumpster. Eidolon Avenue: The First Feast by Jonathan Winn—where the secretly guilty go to die. All thrown into their own private hell as every cruel choice, every deadly mistake, every drop of spilled blood is remembered, resurrected and relived to feed the ancient evil that lives on Eidolon Avenue. Through a Mirror, Darkly by Kevin Lucia—Are there truths within the books we read? What if the book delves into the lives of the very town you live in? People you know? Or thought you knew. These are the questions a bookstore owner face when a mysterious book shows up.

This face, this body, was a choice—a desperate, last-ditch effort to claw his way back from the abyss. It was the first bonded who had been the key. The moment he touched him, the dam had broken. Memories flooded back in a torrent: her laugh, the scent of her hair, the feel of her hand in his. He was Roberto. And he had a daughter, Berta. In a surge of desperate joy, he had done the first thing his resurrected heart could think of. He went to his brother. He had found Dante in the old family office, the room still smelling of their father's cigars. "Dante," he had said, his voice raw with emotion. "It's me. It's Roberto."

Familiar. And something inside me shook. “But I feel you pulling me,” I admitted in a whisper. “Like gravity. Like fate. Like something I am supposed to choose again.” He looked like a man drowning in a breath of air. “Then stay with me,” he whispered. “Let me pull you back. Let” Lucien cut him off sharply. “Do not push her. You have no idea what she is now.” Elias stepped forward carefully. “Rory… listen to me. Resurrection through revenant rites is not normal. You may be”

"My younger sister died of cancer when she was eight. I've lived with that loss my entire adult life, knowing I'd never see them again, never get to tell them things I should have said." "They offered to bring them back," I said, understanding dawning with horrible clarity. "Richard has perfected the resurrection process," Lena confirmed. "Not just artificial enhancement like these soldiers. True resurrection, using Consilience research he's stolen and improved. He can bring people back with their consciousness intact, their memories preserved, their personalities unchanged." "That's impossible," Damian said. "Only The Balance can perform true resurrection. Anything The Consilience creates i