Smoke Symbolism Novels & Stories

"The smoke... it's everywhere. Inside me. Burning. Choking." Justin looked around, confused. "What smoke? Nivia, we're far from the fire. There's no smoke here." But I could feel it. Inside my lungs, my throat, my blood. It was everywhere and nowhere, invisible to him but so real to me. "Don't you see it?" I asked desperately, more silver smoke escaping with my words. "The silver smoke? It's coming out of me!" He shook his head, but his hand never stopped rubbing my back. "I see it coming from you, but there's no smoke in the air. Just what you're... breathing out."

Flames, bright and ravenous, climbing the mountainside above us. The entire ridge is burning. Smoke rolls down in thick clouds, suffocating the battlefield. The fire is spreading fast, swallowing the pines in an instant, leaping from branch to branch, a roaring force of destruction. "Did those bastards light the mountainside on fire to trap us?" The sharp scent of sulfur and burning earth fills my nostrils, mixing with the copper tang of blood. Around me, chaos reigns—the stampede crashes through, wolves and prey tangled together in a frenzy of survival.

ELARA POV The smoke thickens as the sun drops. Not a wildfire. Not the natural kind. This smoke carries intention. It clings to the trees like a warning, rolls in slow and low, dragging the scent of pine and ash with something worse buried beneath it. Blood. The moment it hits, Elias sends patrols to every ridge line. Amber moves through the inner strongholds like a flame, calm but burning. She seals the eastern gates, and the elders in the high chamber begin chanting the old language, their voices steady as the runes along the cliffs ignite in pulsing light.

From our places we watched as our fallen began to burn, sending them off on their final journey to be with the moon goddess. In my arms, my mother shook as her sobs increased tenfold while she watched my father's pallet burn slowly. Lifting from it was purple smoke that spiraled idly towards the sky. Keeping my eyes fixed on the smoke, I could swear I saw my father's face smiling as his mouth moved, making out the shape of the words good bye. Blinking a few times, I looked again, but this time he was gone as the purple smoke began to dissipate until all that was left was black smoke forming from the now smoldering pallet.

I turned on my horn and looked for the light switch then opened it, I closed my eyes because I was dazzled by the light, I slowly opened my eyes and I was right, I was in the basement of the palace where things are placed that are no longer they use. My forehead furrowed when I saw the black smoke floating in front of me again, I sharpened my nail again and prepared to catch the smoke when it suddenly floated so I followed it again. As I follow the smoke I look around and sharpen my senses because maybe the opponent is just around. This smoke seemed to take me to the farthest part of the basement, I looked at the smoke slowly turning white, I stopped for a moment while looking at the smoke.

"Your guilt lifts you above others who have done likewise. And I sense I can offer more help now." She moved her hand, igniting the kindling beneath the pot. The tongues of flame leapt furiously into the air and sparks cascaded over the parched ground. They sizzled, dancing wildly for a moment before dying away. "The smoke and scents will weave knowledge," she whispered, her brown eyes widening, enchanted by the dazzling array of red and gold. "Watch...especially you, boy. The past must rise for the future to be born." Lloyd leaned forward, drawn by the erotic dance of the steam and smoke.

“But you also have to learn how to smile. I never seen you smiling even once.” “There is no reason for me to smile,” she told him what she truly feels. “I will give you a reason, then. Just wait after the party. I will tell you something that will make you smile.” He said as he left the wardrobe. “What is it, my lord? Are you going to free me?” Lucas looked back at her as he stepped out of the door. “It’s something like that,” he said and smirked. “So, learn to smile, Camila. Or should I force you to smile?”

The two women toasted again, their glasses clinking in a sinister celebration of their twisted plans. Praise for the Mayhem The air in Sharon's plush office was thick with evil intent. Sharon lounged in her chair, with an insolent smile playing in her mouth as she rotated the red wine in the glass between her fingers. Eva perched on the edge of the desk facing her; her legs were crossed, while her sinister grin was similarly chiseled across her features. Our little problem, Olivia, is finally out of the way," Sharon said with so much malice in her tone.

She draws the word tight around the smoke like a net. “Out,” she says, simple. “Leave him. Take your taint and go.” The smoke curls like a living thing, resisting, clinging to the small ribs. It scrapes against the circle's edge. Lumina presses her palm harder to the chalk, draws a new smear of blood there, feels the sting and does not flinch. She calls the smoke by the names of what it held—fear, spite, a graft of curse—and she speaks until the sound empties the room.

His eyes—dark, bottomless wells of something old—met mine. And he smiled. Like he'd already won. The bitter odour of smoke hung in the night air, thick and suffocating, wrapping itself around me like a cord. Ash drifted gently, smouldering embers pouring onto the ground as flames engulfed the pack house behind us. The familiar walls that once stood there remained a blackened skeleton, cracking, crumbling, falling to the flames' ravenous appetite. But nothing else happened. Because they were present.