Sand In My Eyes Book Novels & Stories

It went through the process again for almost the eleventh time and all proved futile. “I can't believe this, Fuck! Can you imagine he forced himself on the poor girl?! What kind of story is this?!” yelled Sandy disrupting my attention when I finally managed to get it to an extent. I hissed and pinched my eyes, closed my hand going to my eyes to quell the retort at the tip of my lip. “Kim! What are you doing over there? This book is infuriatingly interesting!” I smacked my hand on my lap consistently until I saw red.

That's how most of the stories end. But since I left the Wildlands, there has been only this endless trudging, slogging, tramping, clumping. And sand. So much sand. It's like a fine mist that you don't even notice is inside your ears, your nose, crusting your eyelashes, coating your teeth and your tongue, until you try to take a sip of water and swallow a mouthful of sand. Or wipe your face and fine grains of sand get in your eyes and sting and don't come out until you've wasted water rinsing them out.

Sebastian puts his finger on her lips to stop her from continuing "I won't happen again. From now onwards I won't allow anyone to hurt you. I will always be there for you when you need me and even when you won't." Anya looks into Sebastian blue-green eyes and there was only sincerity in it with some indescribable emotions making her heart beat rise. She gets flustered and runs from there. Sebastian stares at her running figure then looks at his finger and a flash of smile passes from his eyes. Anya reaches her room and gets into the washroom and looks at her face in the mirror then reminisces about Sebastian's eyes. She shakes her head in negative "No Anya, don't forget what you promised to

Does this girl dare to smile in front of him after destroying him to hell? "Let's enjoy it as said by Roselyn Fernandez '' Sandy smirked as he wore his glasses to enter the hall with the only motive to destroy them the same way they did to him.

It was the only thing I could do, I couldn't let them know how painful it was. My breathing turned shallow, and I took a step toward Sandra as she who was grasping the colt “Well, we'd talk later…I would tell you later." The dim lighting made my eyes look like burnt coal. “Thank you, I'd get in touch." I muttered as I dropped the call with one name on my mind, Elizabeth.

I had packed them in anticipation that I was going to become a warrior and move to the warriors' part of the pack house. I guess it was fate after all. I picked up my phone and booked a flight to New York. It was the first city that came to my head, maybe because that's where I was born. I wiped the tears that ran down my face. I wish my mum was here. Everything would have been better. As soon as I got the notification that my flight was booked, I took my bags and passed the same elevator out. I already saw Gamma Lou outside, in front of his car. I looked at my phone. I had another ten minutes before I started feeling pain. A banished wolf had the grace of thirty minutes before he or she sta

I was coughing so much with my eyes closed now, as another gust of wind had struck my eye, leaving me with no opportunity to itch the particles of sand out of my eye. I was utterly helpless. "W...h...o a....r...e y...o...u?" I slurred feebly in great fear when I got the tiny opportunity to safely use my mouth. I still couldn't see the man as my eyes were closed, the particles prickling my eyeballs, making me reflexively tighten my eyelashes against the part that itched most since I couldn't use my hands. My hands felt very heavy now, in locks of chains; I was unable to move them.

“He hates me enough. Your interference will enrage him further!” Sandy looked at my hand, clutching hers in fear, and then looked up at me with her startling blue eyes. Sandy was beautiful. There was no denying it. She had long blond locks of golden spun hair, wide, blue eyes, and perfect skin with a hint of sun. Unlike me.

But as I looked down at the sand, I saw something that made my blood run cold. The sand wasn't sand. It was finely ground paper, millions of tiny white shards. And as the wind blew, words began to form in the dunes, shifting and changing in the breeze. The survivors looked at the horizon, unaware that the beach was merely the margin of a larger page. I looked back at the way we had come. There was a single, massive door standing alone in the sand, its wood charred and broken. And hanging from the handle was the Critic’s iron key.

Sandra proudly holds up a novel featuring a shirtless pirate hugging a woman while lightning strikes behind them. "I think I win." I raise the book in my hand. Mine features a billionaire standing on a mountain wearing a tuxedo while wolves howl around him. Sandra stares at it. "Why are there wolves?" "I don't know." "Why is he on a mountain?" "I also don't know." "Why is he wearing a tuxedo?" "I've stopped asking questions." She laughs so hard she has to lean against a bookshelf. "I cannot believe someone approved this." "The wolves approved it."