Seven Years Book Novels & Stories

He thought about the seat as more itself in its fifth December than in its first — the honest material accumulating the knowledge of the season, the correspondence deepened by the returning. He thought about the library corner on the twelfth solstice. The Saturday programme not running — the corner in its solstice quiet, the north light steady. The five-year-old is not there. The five-year-old was now seven — he had kept track of the Thursdays, Ruth's messages continuing past the fifth year into the sixth and now into the corner of the seventh. He thought about the seven-year-old's three notebooks, still all three open on the angled seat on every Thursday, the drawing and the writing and the

"Are they really that scary? I'll check them out as well!" "Believe me, dude. You wouldn't dare to eat tomato soup after reading them." "Why?" "The answers are within the books." Two days later, "Chubbyreader" posted yet another status update. This time, his dad wasn't in the picture. He shared a picture showing the cover of "Seven Days" with a caption that read, "I suddenly realized that the older generation had great taste." "Seven Days" rode the wave of online buzz and exploded onto the scene of young adult literature as a dark horse. Sure enough, the younger readers were hooked!

"Victor has Charity." Seven was across the room in a second, his arms wrapping around me. I didn't push him away this time. I collapsed into him, my forehead pressed against his chest, sobbing into the fabric of his shirt. The sexual tension that usually defined us was replaced by a desperate, jagged need for survival. "I'll kill him," Seven rasped, his hand gripping the back of my head. "I don't care about the art. I don't care about the career. I'll burn the whole world down to get her back."

SEVENTH SEDUCTION Amech Sunday DIRTY MEETING ON A HEARTBREAK NIGHT. *NOTE: Every POV is Lilysaint’s voice, except where noted.* “I know what you want,” I said, breath ragged, fighting to hold my emotions in check, “but I’m going to let you have it.” It was driving me insane. I couldn’t hold back anymore. “What do I want?” The slim, tall man asked, his arm slung casually across my shoulders like he already owned the moment.

Still in shape, preserved where time never runs to eat and fade everything away. Winona draws a cunning smile on her face, as she said. “Still as pristine. I wonder if that book is still in here.” She teasingly thought. Knew and all along that the book that she means is still placed and secure within the protection of the library. The book that she loves to read from way past and always, the only book that contains the information of the seven existing worlds. “Seven deadly sins, seven worlds, and the seven books. Maybe I’ll spare a little time to read it again.”

"The document says this is achievable in seven years." Seven years.

And one of those seven days I decided this looking at the calendar, with Saoirse in the chair beside me and the river going about its business outside the window one of those seven days was not going to be for the statement, or the succession, or the package. One of those seven days was going to be ours. I was going to give the machine six days. I was going to give her one. ── I told her the new date. I said: “Tuesday. Seven days. I surrender Tuesday.” She did not say anything for a moment. I watched her absorb the number the way I had watched her absorb every number I had given her the count, the nineteen, now the seven with the steady downward attention of a woman who had decided to look d

Was she rejecting his money? "That's my offer!" he declared,"You will be my wife for seven day." his eyes stared, "take it or leave!" The words slammed into Tatiana’s chest. Seven days. Just Seven Days. This was a countdown, not a total freedom. She thought of her uncle, of the prison she called home. No matter how imperfect the deal, she couldn’t return there. Tatiana's lips trembled before she forced them into a steady line. “ I accept.”

In the etables, the cows were laden with milk, and he was pleased the young men were already attending to their udders by the time he arrived. Peace be with you, brother, he quietly said to each man, touching them on the shoulder as he passed. Then he froze, realizing there were seven cows and seven men. Seven. God's mysterious number. The Book of Genesis alone was ripe with sevens: the seven heavens, the seven thrones, the seven seals, the seven churches. The walls of Jericho crumbled on the seventh day

The night they arrived, he even posted something online to make it clear he thought I was copying him. In our seventh year, the gift was the divorce agreement. Seven years, and looking back, the distance between us had grown the entire time without me noticing. Two notifications came through on my phone. One was from Vera that read, “Sean, nine tomorrow morning. Do not forget.” The other was from Austin. “Last night of our seven-day romance. Vera says she wants to make it a night to remember.” My eyes stayed on the paintings for one last moment before I switched off the screen.