Scribble Stones Novels & Stories

I said, pointing to the object partially buried in the earth. She stepped closer, her eyes widening. “What… is that?” “It’s an old tub,” I explained, moving to stand beside her. “Made entirely of precious stones.” She crouched down, brushing dirt from the smooth surface. The stones shimmered faintly, catching the dim light. Lyra’s fingers traced the bold lettering carved into the side, and she read it aloud. “‘Only for the Alpha and the Luna of the pack.’” Her voice was filled with wonder. “This… this is incredible.”

While Bob goes for more stones I pick one of the imperial rocks up and hit it against a normal stone. I'm pleased with the result, while the imperial stone retains its shape, the other one broke easily. After experimenting with the imperial stone for a while, I realize that it is very difficult to break, even hitting two imperial stones against each other doesn't seem to work. So, instead of doing the same thing over and over like a caveman, I start scraping it against a huge rock that just happened to be nearby.

“What’s this?” She took the stone out and evaluated it. The stone felt cool when she held it in her palm. “I found this stone in the small creek in front of the training base in the hills. This is a cobblestone.” Sebastian introduced the stone to her. “Wow, what a beautiful cobblestone!” Rue liked such novel playthings.

he continued, looking at Rebecca. “I’m Rebecca Holland, Mr. Stone’s partner for the evening. Nice to meet you, Mr...” she intervened in a determined voice. “Spencer Collins, director and writer!” It was like I didn’t exist anymore. The truth was Rebecca was beautiful, and I took that risk when I invited her. And since all the attention was on her, I had to go with that. And even be proud of it. “Please come to my table. There we can talk better. And it’s right next to the stage. I’m sure the gentleman here will win in all categories.”

The world shifted: shadows lengthened and withdrew as if bowing, small birds rose in a furious cloud, and the stones underfoot hummed. Barbie flew ahead and called back, her voice sharp. “There—by the water. The ward stones. She’s awake enough to stir the ground, but not loose.” She pointed with a glittering hand. In the shallow basin, ancient standing stones had been newly disturbed, faint glyphs burning with a color I’d never seen in my lifetime—cold violet, like bruises made visible.

The Great Interdimensional Hide-and-Seek Tournament turned our garden from a sanctuary into a stadium. The Chaos Realm’s “Game Master,” which Lina had nicknamed “Scribble,” was a formidable, if infuriating, opponent. It played by the letter of our hastily invented rules, but its imagination was… unconstrained by things like “physics” or “good taste.” Finding the acorn-noir had taken us three hours and required Kael to build a micro-empathy scanner tuned to “gumshoe melancholy.” We’d won the first point. Scribble had taken its loss with the grace of a supernova, immediately demanding a rematch.

It's been twenty hours, thirty six minutes and five seconds since the headmaster asked me about our district's stone. The Trait Stone . According to the legends, that stone is what empowers the citizens of a district. That's why if you're parents are from district 3 then you must be born on that district as well. And if you don't then there will be complications. Our ancestors said that the stone will grant you a trait the moment you're born. That's why we're born to have traits.

Upon seeing the Stonehenge up close, it was much bigger and in perfect rectangles than the ones in our world. It made me wonder who built this place. Each standing stone was seventy meters tall, and each short one on top was fifty meters. Many from the crowd pulled out their cell phones, taking pictures and selfies. Some were writing graffiti on the stones. Strange, there should be someone guarding landmarks like this would’ve stopped them. However, after scanning the base of each standing stone, they were all covered in graffiti as far as any arm might reach. Could it be that there were others already here before we came along?

“Ink is more than ink.” He turned the roll in his fingers; gray dust ghosted the ribbon, too fine for the eye, heavy enough for a nose that knew what to seek. Ash from the old pact-stones south of the river, ground with resin and a breath of iron. Not poison. Not even harm. A mark.

“I already know what I’m listed as. I saw the folder.” “No,” the Scribe said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You know what they call you. You don’t know what you cost.” I clenched my jaw until it ached. “Then talk. Stop with the riddles and tell me the price.” He reached beneath the table and pulled out a single page. It wasn't like the other ledgers. This parchment was translucent, shimmering with a faint, bioluminescent glow. The ink wasn't black; it was a deep, bruised purple.