Solitary Man Book Novels & Stories

“As will yours.” He stood in her apartment on Eidolon, the old man from the bookstore, sauntering toward her. “This building,” he said, looking toward the ceiling and then her bedroom. “So many unfinished stories. So many books.” He looked at her. “You know you can actually see this building on the people who tell their tales here?” Glancing back to the door. “And that? My coming in? This Eidolon’s my forever friend. There’s no locked door for me here. I can follow the scent right to you.” A small laugh. “Obviously

The man glanced at Ellen briefly before turning his attention back to the book in his hand again. Stev turned to the next page of the book again. On the first page, there is the date on which the sentences were written. [Everything has disappeared as if it was swallowed up by the earth. My family, there is nothing left but my only sister who is still closing hers eyes in the hospital. I really hope she can open hers eyes again. I want her to see if I'm still by hers side. There is nothing else I have in this world besides her. I wanted to replace her lying helpless on the bed with the smell of medicine. I just want me to feel the pain.]

Wendy said with a catch in her throat, "Our families are long-time friends. You can't just leave me like this. Otherwise, I'll tell my father!" Lucian finally caved in. He said to me, "Nina, I'll take her to the hospital. Stay here and have fun. I'll be back soon." I nodded, hoping that they would leave quickly, so I could go home and rest too. Once they all left, I was planning to leave too. Right at this moment, the doors to the room open. A group of homeless men entered! They immediately locked their eyes on me and snickered lewdly. "That woman wasn't lying. Not only are we getting paid, but we also get to sleep with such a gorgeous woman! We're in luck!"

Something waiting. --- Determined not to be paralyzed by fear, I returned to the antique bookstore — to the stories, the secrets, the fragments of forgotten women. The elderly owner greeted me with a knowing smile. “You’re searching for answers,” he said quietly. I nodded. He handed me a leather-bound tome, its cover worn but strong — *Reflections of the Forgotten*. “Read carefully,” he advised. “Sometimes the past speaks through shadows.” --- I spent the night poring over its pages. The book told of women trapped in illusions, caught between worlds — ghosts of themselves, struggling to reclaim their true identities.

I was lost in trance, lost in a world of my own with the sound of my heartbeat the only thing I could hear and feel. But, then again, it lasted only for a few seconds before a voice filled with whimper and pain pulled me out. Rough and harsh without any care. “I…won’t die alone, Vincenzo.” The voice muttered, his voice trembling and filled with so much anguish and resentment. “I must kill your wife. I have to carry out my duty assigned to me by the Italian Mafia.” After the voice, came a hand, filled with blood reaching out to me. Fear shot through my spine as I instinctively crawled backwards, away from the red hand covered in blood.

Not just because she's an informant and that she's the direct disciple of the best informant in the underworld, but because she herself is a demon. "But even in the darkest of times," Sherly added mechanically, her voice void of inflection, "there were moments of light." She smiled, and somehow, the three men felt a little jealous. That smile is different from how they always saw her. "I found fleeting solace in the kindness of others, in the fragile bonds I forged amidst the chaos." "Solace?" Kyle repeated.

"Then we’ll use the shadow to draw something else, Sara. A Banker who knows how to count can be the one who makes sure the grain lasts the winter. You don't need a suit to know how to share." The Stranger’s Entry The man on the stone stopped writing. He lifted the book, letting the morning wind catch the page to dry the fresh charcoal. He didn't have a title, and he didn't have a desk. He was simply the one who had agreed to hold the book while the rest of us learned how to speak. "The first entry is finished," he said, offering the leather-bound volume to me. I took the book, its cover rough and smelling of natural tannin. Xander leaned in over my shoulder, his breath warm against my neck a

Interesting Facts about the Lonely God that nobody asked for 1. Not many people know this but The Lonely God is an individual book in the trilogy Of Me and My Mate. The first book in the series is called My Mate is My Enemy, which is the story about Nefret’s grandparents. It was my first ever werewolf book on Wattpad. The second book in the series is called Chasing My Mate which is the story about Erika’s parents. You need not read the previous two books to read The Lonely God but if you are curious and have some penny to spare then you’ll find the books on Dreame. You’d have to pay to read though.

a collector seated in the front row asked curiously, “the lighting in this piece is incredibly gentle. What was your state of mind when you painted it?” Ethan held the microphone, his gaze soft as it landed on Jane. “At that time, I had just woken up. I didn’t remember anything, and the world felt empty. It was Jane who gave me a second life. When she stood in the yard feeding the chickens, sunlight falling on her, I thought to myself that this was the kind of peaceful life I wanted to keep for the rest of my days. This painting is of the woman I love and my salvation.” Thunderous applause filled the room. Jane’s eyes brimmed with tears. Right there, in front of everyone, she threw herself i

“Well, my shift’s over so I thought to come out here to rest awhile, before heading home. I presume you’re out here for a different reason.” “Yeah….” A long exhale escaped my lungs. “Felt a little lonely.” Adrian nodded slowly. “I think I might have just the thing to fix that.” He deeped his hand into his coat pocket and pulled out a book. “I read this whenever I’m sad, overwhelmed or probably just need to keep myself busy, and right now all you need is to keep yourself busy with this.” I took the book from his hand. The title was written in red block letters.