Slow Burn Novels & Stories

"The patient has severe burns and significant carbon monoxide poisoning, with a possible risk of stroke." Atlas stared at the ceiling, listening silently as the doctor read out his appalling health condition. However, he was unconcerned. His mind was filled with images of Naomi. "Naomi... Which room is Naomi in?" His voice was hoarse, his throat thick with the taste of blood.

Power pulsed through her palms, seeking the poison, tugging at it, unraveling its grip thread by thread. His jaw tensed, a weak growl slipping free as his body shuddered under the strain. Celeste leaned closer, her voice steady though her heart raced. “I know. I know it burns. Just hold on. I can’t take it all out at once, it’s too deep, too toxic. But I can ease it.”

I can’t move. Ash rains down in a slow, deliberate snowfall. Each fleck is a dying ember, whispering against my skin like a warning. I press my palm to the nearest column—scalding. The burn bites deep, but I can’t let go. If I let go, I’ll float away into the inferno. Somewhere beyond the crackle of fire, something moves.

A cold-blooded killer. “I alrea…. AHHHHH F*CK!!!!!”. The balls are now starting to hit me in the already sore places, causing excruciating pain. Kind of like when you have an open wound or a broken bone, and someone decides to hit you with a sledgehammer on that exact spot again. “FLYNN, PLEASE!! I CAN’T TAK….”.

She was draped in heavy linens, her arms and shoulders encased in thick bandages soaked in a pungent mixture of aloe, coal-tar, and medicinal oils. The pain was no longer a sharp scream; it had settled into a rhythmic, pulsing throb that felt as if her bones were trying to vibrate out of her skin. The "Light-Burns" were unlike any injury the doctors had ever seen. They didn't char the flesh; they crystallized it. Beneath the bandages, her skin bore patterns of translucent, violet-white scarring that looked like the delicate frost-feathers on a winter windowpane.

“I don't know... I remember when my body was burned alive in the villa… at that time? It hurts... I don't want it to happen again." "Easy ... when you feel almost like that ... you only need me ... I can make the heat of the fire disappear and replace it with pleasure." Blaze replied with his signature smile that is annoying ... but alluring. Huh... I seem to have gone crazy. "You are! Pervert. It happened so fast... I suddenly burst into flames."

She squatted in front of the water and di-p her hand in it,,the water was so cold. She suddenly smiled when an idea stucked into her head,,she controlled the water with her mind and it turned to ice immediately,she grinned wi-dely but the smile was short lived when suddenly the ice broke and melted, ‘What’s going on?’ She thought and t©uçhed the water,it was almost boiling,,so h0t. She looked up and turned to Kingston but he didn’t move,,she turned back to the water and tried freezing it again but each time it happens,the water melt right away. She stood up feeling frustrated and walked to Kingston angrily

Chapter 54 Set Fire and Burn by Ruth Nalio Alatap… I crested the hill, out of breath, just in time to see Zander fall to the ground. Angelica stood about ten feet away from them, her body covered in brilliant orange flames, wind whipping all around the crumbling city. I opened my mouth to yell for her to run when tornadoes began to drop all over the city. My eyes widened as her orange flames turned blue and white. What little had been left of her clothes quickly burned away, followed by her skin and muscle, until she was nothing more than a flaming skeleton.

thermal acceleration" —none of which made much sense to me. But as I flipped further into the journal, the entries became more personal. More frantic. {The project is spiraling out of control. We thought we could contain it, but the models were wrong. The simulations were wrong. We’re not prepared for what’s coming.} {The heat is spreading faster than we anticipated. The atmosphere is destabilizing. There’s no stopping it now. God help us all.} My heart began to race as I read the final few entries, the words scrawled hastily, as if the person writing them had been in a panic. {The Burning is inevitable. We’ve failed. There’s nothing left but survival.}

Why are they still above me? Worst was the fact that he could feel the steady burn trailing a path down his chest, leaving a cold trail of burns that would be covered in scarred tissue before a third day. He could attribute being the weakest of the three to being held back by the pain. But regardless of how practiced a liar he was, this lie was one he couldn’t fall for; on more than one occasion he’d burned colder and faster than this. This pain slowed him, but not enough to make a significant difference.