Seventeen Novel Novels & Stories

Various theories have the library being built there by aliens, by a civilization ten thousand years old, or by a race of vampires. Caitlin let the book fall from her lap, her mouth open in shock, and it landed with a thump on the floor. She sat straight up, feeling a jolt. She suddenly felt wide awake, as if she had just lost all sense of time and place. She picked the book up again, her throat dry, and read the words again and again, desperately, like a castaway starving for water.

They grappled. “Stop it!” Wendy yanked them apart. “Miles, that’s enough!” Miles was out of breath. “You’re siding with him? Our seven years don’t mean as much as some guy you’ve known for a few months?” “Seven years?” Wendy let out a cold sneer, “The last two years, your mother would deliberately pour boiling hot water on my hand, but you just told me to put up with it. I only got four hours of sleep a night just to take care of her. And you think that's okay?”

“Have you seen Quinn, Mr. Collins? Quinn went after you not long after you left for Rochester.” Julia said as well, “That’s right. Quinn is your seventh sister. Why didn’t she come back with you?” That was when Julia’s words hit him. Chase froze. He turned back to look at Julia in disbelief as he said, “What did you just say, Miss Julia? Miss Norris is my seventh sister?” Myra looked shocked as well. Julia nodded when she met both of their eyes. She said, “That’s right. Miss Norris is your seventh sister, Quinn.”

(Harry’s Side Story) My name is Harry, and I am thirty years old. People say that men are the strongest when they reach 30. Yet, my life seemed to have reached its end. In my life, I encountered two women I loved the most. One was my first love, Emily, from my university days. The other was my wife, who accompanied me for many years. My feelings for my first love blossomed during the most innocent and hazy times. At the height of my love for her, she broke up with me, stating she would study abroad and didn’t want to hold me back.

he growled as he left the room, slamming the door close, heading towards the direction of the attic and the library. Meanwhile, I sat down down on a swirl chair in the mini library that housed not less than one hundred books, getting sleepy over the interesting novel I was reading when I heard Armani practically screaming my name as he approached the library. The novel was all about a young mistress in search of her missing master with the hope of a happy reunion when she finally sees him.The story was set to medivial times of old, the year seventeenth hundredths to be precise. The novel was the first thing that caught my attention when I stepped into the library. It had a fantastic silver c

Until the right girl finally shows up wearing pink Vans and a heart big enough to hold the world. I’m home. And the dream that waited thirty-four years just smiled and went back to sleep. Its work is done. Seventeen Thursday, July 19, 2028 – 12:01 a.m. I turn seventeen exactly when the clock flips to midnight. No big party. No rented venue. Just the ridge, the pack, and the people who would burn the world down before they let it burn me. The bonfire is normal orange tonight (Seras promised to behave).

Then Helen and Richard left, saying that they would come to see me tomorrow. Jeffrey stood outside the door, hesitant to leave. "Audrey, we can never be together again, right?" Hearing this, Kash wanted to go up and hit him, but I stopped Kash. "Yes. "I’ve been unhappy for the past seven years. Jeffrey, how many seven years are there in one’s life?"

We stood there, fear and hope braided together, knowing the world would keep watching, judging, testing. But for now, I felt something rare. Not certainty. But safety in the choosing. And that at seventeen felt like everything.

The seventeenth notebook opened in January. She has been noting this in the annual reviews since the third: how many notebooks have been filled, at what pace, and what the pace says about the year. The seventeenth notebook opened in January and will close, she estimates, in February of next year — a shorter year than most, which means the writing was denser rather than less frequent. The third book required a different kind of attention than the briefs and the annual reviews; the notebook this year has more thinking and less reporting.

And the adventurous excitement of hiding it all accelerated the whole affair. It was supposed to be a one-time thing. To get it out of my system, so to speak. Sienna didn’t have to know. The first time happened after lunch. She was in town and wanted to talk. And talk we did, and we did more than talk. I booked a hotel near the restaurant, thinking it might last an hour or two, not the whole afternoon that it was. Rescheduling other appointments that day was a nuisance, but the experience in the hotel room that day was unforgettable.