Slow Burn Book Novels & Stories

Fru's mouth rounded in disbelief as the ink in the book rippled beneath her gaze, words liquefying into an emerald glow. "I want you stable right now" her mouth pursed with desperation as she tried to will the pulsing book between her hand to calm. "Oh gods, what the hell am I doing. Am I going crazy after all?" Fru's right hand rubbed her face, as the book glowed more fiercely, firm in its disobedience. Alive. Hungry. The courtyard melted away, swallowed by shadows and flame. Fru's eyes swerved overhead as she watched the leaves slow in motion. The scent of charred earth filled her nose, the air thick with heat.

Flashback The hostel was quiet in the way it always was after lights out , not completely silent, just softened. Pages turned. Someone shifted in their sleep. Aria sat on her bed with her books open, highlighter resting uselessly across a paragraph she’d read three times without absorbing. Outside, rain traced thin lines down the window, steady and unhurried. Her phone buzzed. A text from Damien. --It’s raining, Come on… let me make your slow-dancing dreams come true.--

Watching the police car drive away, I collapsed to the ground. I felt completely drained. After experiencing the same tragedy in both lives, I was at my limit physically and mentally. Michael helped me into the passenger seat of the car and started the engine. As I watched the scenery pass me by outside the window, I couldn't stop crying. Jared hadn't always been like this. I couldn't believe that a person could change so much in just a few years. Years ago, when my house caught fire, I was surrounded by flames. Just as I was at the brink of despair, Jared rushed through the fire like a hero and saved me.

"We've been together for seven years. I remember coming home late one night and finding her asleep on the couch. When she woke up, her hair was a mess. She yawned as she rubbed her eyes and told me she made me soup to sober up. "That look really killed the mood, and I lost my appetite for the hangover soup she made. I suddenly realized that I don't love her anymore. She used to be my goddess, the girl I pursued for two whole years. "But now, that goddess had turned into an ordinary woman who didn't bother to care about herself anymore. But we've been together for seven years. We were classmates. Our lives are too tangled up. Breaking up isn't easy. God, what a nightmare."

A gasp of shock escaped me as the flames retracted and I could have a better look at the Bloody General. ** You can read Alev's book (The Golden Dragon's Surrogate) for f.ree on Kindl.e unlimited. For more information, join my group: T. R. Durant's Realm of Light and Fire

she said firmly, her voice taking a chastising tone. "No, this is exactly the time," I interjected stubbornly. "I saw fire today. Once you light a fire, it has to burn and it doesn't care if this is the time or place. Fire either burns brightly or it fizzles into nothingness and smoke. Without the fire, there is no light. So, are you two burning or fizzling?" I demanded. I wanted an answer. Andrew looked at me, and I shrugged. I might be confused from the drugs, but it had sounded poetic in my head.

I became a bit better after I wore a pair of gloves and warm thick slacks with the shirt. As I strode back to the bed, my eyes caught the view of steady fire from the hearth. A line I had vaguely seen in a book while I hurriedly riffled through its pages popped into my head - ‘burning as the flames of the furnace, triggering an absurd color of the skin; a tickling effect in the layers of the flesh, popping the veins out― demons-bane’.

With a gentle hug, I put the book down and immediately left for work. At 5:30 I was behind the shop waiting for my employers. I began to think about what happened last night. I was contemplating how a small book could increase in size by itself. The book could talk and give instructions for humans to follow. What amazed me more was the fact that fire of blood could rest in a bowl and the book didn’t burn but when I put my hand I was burning that I could even felt the fire even in my intestines.

The fire in the library had burned low, casting long amber shadows across the walls. Sloane sat curled on the velvet sofa, her sketchbook closed in her lap. She hadn’t touched it since the mirror shattered. Her fingers ached to draw, but the lines inside her wouldn’t settle.

"Then you will admit you want me. Or it all stops." I whimper. This fucking asshole. I won't. No, I won't give him the words. He's taken enough from me, more than he even realizes. Then he begins to slow down, and my eyes, that I had not even realized were still closed all this time, because what does it matter in the dark, fly open, because he can't possibly be about to stop, right? "Please," I gasp out before I can stop myself. I can feel the fire dulling, constricting, and I can't let it. Not when my body had to go through so much pain for it.