Snow Crash Audiobook Novels & Stories

Some people were stubborn and replied haughtily that she wasn't the boss of them and there was nothing she could do about it. Nothing eh? Snow smirked knowingly. "It's okay kid," the C-rank was telling her. "Just get down. We'll handle everything." He stretched his hand to help her down but she ignored it. Edward put on his earpiece immediately while Janet and Ashley held their ears. Ryan rolled his eyes. He knew she would blow her whistle again. As if on cue Snow blew her whistle. The shrill sound was terrifying and so awfully loud. "Man, I hate shrill like noises," Luke scowled at Snow as he covered his ears with his hands.

I slumped in the chair and stalked the movement of his hands with my half-mast gaze. "Destroying what should have been destroyed years ago." With those whispered words, he brought the dancing flame to the cover of the book. Flames licked around the edges, blackening the pages until they withered and became a pale white. The ashes trickled down like the beginning of snow on a blistering winter night. Snow. Such a pure element to think of under such circumstances. Snow resembled a blank slate, new beginnings. Maybe this could have been what this was if I had burned the damn book the moment it landed in my possession.

My legs were twisted, crushed under the weight of the snow. Shawn collapsed as he finally saw my corpse. The tool clattered to the ground. He stared blankly at my corpse as he shook his head vehemently.

If not, I would have wrung your neck for talking to be like that. Niccoli thought to himself. Since the snow dragon has no plan in explaining herself, Niccoli and others stared at Audrey instead; waiting to hear an explanation from their friend. As expected, Audrey recounted everything that happened to her and Nero at that night. She told them everything, not leaving a single detail. "You mean to say, the snow dragon just appear out of the blue saying that the old hermit told him to do so?" Niccoli summarised Audrey's story. "Uhmmm..."

Chapter 4 The Woman in White Elena's POV “Smile, Elena, the press is to your left.” “I am smiling,” I murmured, forcing a smile without looking at Damon. “Not like you’re walking into a funeral.” “Maybe I am actually doing that.” His jaw was already hardened slightly at that, but he didn’t respond. Typical of him. Three days ago, I had made the greatest discovery of my life, that the snow was a lie. Two nights ago, I still lay beside him, my emotions all over the place, while he slept like a man without guilt. Yesterday, he acted so smoothly, like nothing had happened between us.

"Maybe enough time has passed that we can be honest about how we got here." We agreed to participate and spent the next six months doing interviews, and reading the journalist's draft of our chapters made me realize how much we'd actually survived. "We sound resilient," I said after finishing the manuscript. "We are resilient," Adrian corrected. "We just don't usually think about it that way." The book published the following spring and became an unexpected bestseller, and suddenly we were getting interview requests and speaking invitations. "This is weird," I told Adrian after our third podcast interview. "I don't like being this public."

It was sudden—a violent, sickening lurch that caused the aircraft to shudder from nose to tail. The silver tray on the table slid violently to the left, the remaining coffee splashing over the rim of Asena's porcelain cup. Before Asena could even register the movement, a loud, metallic groan vibrated through the fuselage as the jet struck a severe pocket of clear-air turbulence. Asena gasped, her hand instinctively gripping the edge of the mahogany table. But her eyes didn't look at the window; they flew straight to Nives. The shift in the CMO was instantaneous and terrifying.

On a picnic table and benches by the trampled ground where the trailer used to be, glittering snowflakes catch on the leaves of dozens of potted plants and cuttings in glass jars, sparkling in the starlight. Rosie’s warm scent fades second by second as the first snow of the season falls, and my pulse throbs. My wolf howls his rage, his condemnation. I am too late. My brain roars, and I surge back into my body, seizing my limbs, wheeling around the yard. “Rosie!” I bound onto the shack’s porch, rattle the locked door and bang on the window. “Witch!” I roar. I know Abertha isn’t here—her scent is days old—but my bare feet pound across the porch, behind the shack, searching because what else ca

However, what came instead was news of a blizzard sealing off the mountain and a search team returning with nothing but a damaged hiking boot. I clutched that boot at the funeral and fainted three times from crying. To find his body, I sold our home and hired a private rescue team, staying at the foot of the mountain for half a year. From there, I developed severe bipolar disorder. The scars on my wrists layered over each other, one on top of the next. A broken laugh escaped me, and I couldn’t stop the tears from falling. “You’re right. People should look to the future.” I wiped my tears away and straightened my back, forcing myself to look composed.

Snow covered the whole world in cold white. I laughed, and tears fell with the laughter. But Joanna, I would not live to see three months from now. I was going to die in this winter.