Slow House Novels & Stories

"1705? New unit owner? Where has the person, who lived here before you, gone?" The young man wiped his sweat. His eyes were full of joy. "The property agent told me she moved out this morning. Do you know her? Could you give her contact details to me? "She seemed to have moved out in a rush because this apartment's price was incredibly low. I really lucked out, so I'd like to thank her!" Those words made Emmett's brain malfunction. He stood frozen for a long while before suddenly snapping to his senses, turning, and opening the unclosed door.

He thanked me and asked my name. -I'm Celeste. -It's a very nice name, I'm Sebastian. -It's nice to meet you, you'll love this town, they say the people are very nice. -I'm sure they are. He looked at me with penetrating eyes and for a moment I got lost in them. I went into a kind of trance and found it hard to look away. The owner of the house interrupted us and suddenly I reacted again. -Excuse me, I have to go.

Dave then crossed out the desire to avoid embarrassing himself in front of June. Time flies so slowly. Dave had been waiting for almost two hours, but Aini never came out of the room. The young man looked resigned and sat on the couch with his legs crossed. While his back leaned against the back of the sofa. Dave's eyes looked like they were about to close when the sound of the doorknob being turned was heard, followed by the sound of the door opening. Dave, who was feeling sleepy due to boredom of waiting for too long, turned his head with the remnants of his consciousness almost running out if only Aini hadn't come out in the next two minutes.

Three days before Sheldon was supposed to leave the country, he mortgaged our house. He even helped us pack, moving me and the boys into a tiny one-room basement unit on the third floor down. It was barely 300 square feet and was damp, musty, and dark. Sheldon stood in the middle of that little room, talking to our sons as if he was giving some grand speech.

Myka was no longer sleepy. She wanted to open the bedroom door to take a look outside, but she did not have the guts to do so. Titus and Carol were talking in the living room, but Seventh Heaven’s sound insulation was really good. Despite putting her ear to the door, Myka could not hear anything. It was pure torture. Meanwhile, Boaz and Sirius felt the same while standing outside the room. They had not slept much over the night and were really sleepy, but they still had to guard the door to prevent the Abner family from coming over.

Her family had already prepared for the day with drinks for entertainment. The days seemed to be moving so fast. She wished that she could slow it down but it was beyond her control. God should have made a remote control for people to pause time, she thought, knowing that it was a stupid thought but what did it matter? Her mind was in a state of chaos.

After hearing him out, Daniel and I decided to drive home overnight. Before we left, Great-Uncle Harold added that once the spirit-bound blood disappeared, she would suffer retaliation from the infant’s soul. As for what kind of retaliation, he didn’t say. By the time we reached home, it was already past midnight. Once inside, we turned on the lights and found the sculpture in the northwest corner of the living room. We used a power saw to cut it open. Sure enough, at the base of the sculpture was a transparent sealed vial.

I hissed, letting the asshole in front of me knowing how furious I was. “Nothing happens to me,” He said, nodding before slowly going down the three steps of the house. “I hope everything is to your liking. The pantry and fridge were stocked with supplies and the bedrooms and bathrooms should have everything you need. I hope tomorrow you start working your established schedule. Have a good day, Mrs. Sweet.”

Heightened sensory awareness. Stage 2: The DriftLowered heart rate ($<40$ bpm).Synaptic tethering to the Hive. Stage 3: DissolutionSkin turns a translucent, amber hue.Total Memory Overwrite. The Empty Streets The reconstruction of the world had ground to a halt. The "Slow-Glass" humans, overwhelmed by the trauma of the last year, were checking out. Why build a new world when you could live in a perfect, ancient one? "They're not even fighting us anymore, Lucian," Isabella said, her voice hollow. She walked through a park where hundreds of people sat motionless, their hands pressed against an Amber Hive. "They're just... leaving. We saved the planet, but we're losing the population."

Marcus The safehouse is barely more than a forgotten apartment over a boarded-up hardware store. No heat, no furniture except a sagging couch and a table with one broken leg propped on a brick. But it’s quiet and secluded. No prying eyes, no neighbors awake at this hour. Marrin paces like a caged animal, sweat beading on his forehead despite the chill that seeps through the cracked windows. Sophia sits forward on the dilapidated couch, notebook open, pen in hand, every inch the journalist even when the air smells like mildew and dust.