Sloth Blanket Novels & Stories

Out of the world of herbal induced sleep that always lands me back home, back in hell, back to reality. My eyes pop open, my heart pounding from the visit down memory lane, and I sit up, something falling from my body. I reach down and touch it, a soft, plush texture in my hands, and I lift it to my nose, inhaling. The light scent of Tatum fills my lungs, and my mood feels instantly lighter. When I move to stand, moving the blanket off me, my finger getting tangled in a hole. I guess she gave this blanket a decent amount of use over the years.

Chelsea guided him to a specific spot on the sand, and Arc's feet seemed to root themselves to the ground, his movements freezing as he took in the sight before him. As Arc's gaze fell upon the spot, he was met with a breathtakingly romantic setup. A beautifully woven blanket, in shades of soft blue and white, was spread out on the sand, adorned with an elegant lace trim. The blanket was surrounded by a delicate array of candles, their soft golden light flickering in the gentle ocean breeze, casting a warm glow over the entire setting.

the upper edge of the blanket is punched with such ador that it seems it is purposed to be torn from the very center of it's fabric rather than opened up. a head rolls out from the now opened side of the blanket, eyes tightly shut like that of a newborn but so strongly built like those of refugees in Somalia. the fire under the cauldron raved momentarily in a close mimicry of the struggling mass under the blanket, the Misty figure overseeing the whole affair raged furiously and ran wild with contorted rage at the struggling mass under the blanket and struck it so hard as it's weakened and shrivelled foot can allow which was albeit more than enough to send the mass struck unconscious and dumb

All had succumbed, some more suddenly than others, gone to sleep and had those cobweb blankets pulled over to tuck them in. ‘Jesus,’ said McBride as he steered through the community. ‘I’ve never seen anythin’ like it. Never want to agin.’ ‘Amen to that,’ Strauss whispered. He had the driver pull up near the corner shop and open the door. They were going out to fetch the first samples of what had been dubbed back there as the Sleeping Sickness, but what Strauss had long since come to think of as his nemesis. The thing keeping him from her. Yet wasn’t it also—he believed—the thing that would bring them together?

Sophia carefully took the empty bowl from my hands and set it quietly on the floor. Then, she reached into the dark behind her. She pulled over the big pile of things she had dropped when she first came in. It was not just extra sheets for the closet. She unfolded a thick, heavy, quilted blanket. It was a beautiful, warm duvet. Gently, she lifted the heavy blanket and spread it over my shivering body. She tucked the warm edges around my feet, under my sides, and right up to my chin. The heavy warmth hit my skin right away. It hid the cold concrete floor beneath layers of soft comfort. For the first time in forty-eight hours, the shivering stopped. My muscles finally relaxed, letting go of al

Paige comes in with a thick blanket. "This is what young master asked me to send in." In the sun, Paige looks at Nina apologetically. She shouldn't have lied. But as a servant, she needs to live here and listen to her masters. Nina doesn't speak. Paige adds, "young master is angry now. When he's not angry, he'll take you out! Young master still loves you very much, otherwise he won't let me send such a thick blanket." These blankets are for young master's own use. They are made of pure worsted cashmere. A blanket is worth tens of thousands of dollars. Paige finds it a pity to put them on the dirty floor.

In his hands, he carried a small bundle wrapped in soft leather. "I wanted to give you something." He held out the bundle—a blanket, woven from the softest wool, decorated with symbols of protection and love. The patterns were intricate, beautiful—moons and stars and wolves, all intertwined. "For the baby. From me." Elara took it, tears filling her eyes. "Damon, it's beautiful." "I wanted you to know..." He paused, gathering himself. "I wanted you to know that I'm happy for you. Both of you. It took me a long time to get here, but I am."

"For the twins. And for you." He began unpacking the bags with careful movements. The first item was a pair of impossibly small, hand-knitted blankets—one blue with silver threads, the other a soft grey. "These are from a small village in Switzerland," he explained, placing them on the bed for me to touch. "The silver threads are actually real silver, woven with cashmere. They say they bring protection to newborns." The blankets were exquisite, unlike anything I'd ever seen. "They're beautiful," I whispered, running my fingers over the delicate fabric.

She nodded. "Don't worry, everything is sterilized. We get a new shipment of almost every tangible thing in this room once a month, you know, as this is an interactive exhibit. Although, not a lot of people find their way into this room." She explained, walking towards me. As my hand came into contact with the cold material of one of the leather objects, I took it off the rack to further examine. "These are floggers. They're used during something called impact play where the dominant whips their submissive with the lashes." She chimed, running her fingers through the lashes of the flogger made out of rope.

The room is instantly plunged into darkness, save for the faint glow of the moon filtering through the curtains. With the absence of light, my senses heighten, allowing me to fully immerse myself in the cocoon of warmth and comfort that surrounds me. The blankets, like a protective shield, wrap around my body, molding to every curve and contour. The familiar scent of freshly laundered fabric fills the air, creating a soothing atmosphere that lulls me into a state of tranquility.