Still Waters Run Deep Book Novels & Stories

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out, and he could only lower his head in helplessness. A man who once powerfully dominated others now lacked even the courage to lift his eyes and face Don Conway. Mother could no longer hold herself up and collapsed onto the floor, letting out a cry of despair. Lastly, there was the diary. Don Conway took it and casually flipped through a few pages. A mocking smile appeared at the corner of his lips. He closed the diary, and while looking at the pitiable people before him, he slowly said, "A stolen gun, and a stolen life… The Shaws are quite entertaining."

Nothing but me, my thoughts and my whiskey. There’s no noise. No chaos. Just soft lighting, polished floors, and the hum of something always running beneath the surface- love, loss, money, power, and expectation. I pour two fingers of my most expensive whiskey and lean against the bar in my office, staring out at the dark stretch of countryside beyond the windows. To some this would be the most beautiful place on earth. Stars as far as the eyes can see- green grass and landscape even further. But to me it’s a prison. A place I’ve made for two people but only one of us is here. Until tonight.

Elaine took a refreshing bath and slipped into clean pajamas, but her respite was short-lived. Stephen's arms ensnared her once more, his kisses reigniting with an intense heat. It was a long while before their fervor subsided. Feeling drained and sticky with sweat, Elaine was too weary and drowsy to consider another shower. She sat in a daze, her feet still not touching the floor. Suddenly, someone caught her wrist. A deep, chilling voice cut through the silence. "Where do you think you're going?"

“It’s just the singing, calling to us. Can’t you hear it?” “All I hear is the buzzing of bugs and water dripping from somewhere,” said Curtis. “This way.” Jeannine lifted the machete and walked away as if she hadn’t heard him. Easy followed her at a distance, stopping at a stagnant pool of water by the remains of the front desk. “Let’s go, dead man,” called Curtis. Easy looked at him and smiled. “What’s so funny?” asked Curtis. “Private joke, dig?”

Wesley was drawn to my resilient nature. He developed a strong affection for me and kept urging me to go South with him. “At Whitebush Pack, it’s like spring all year round,” he said eagerly. “Flowers bloom everywhere, and I promise you’ll fall in love with it! Come with me. Besides, wasn’t your original plan to travel South anyway?” I didn’t know why, before losing my memory, I had planned to head South. However, since that was my original journey, following Wesley didn’t seem impossible. So, I went to the Whitebush Pack, and just as Wesley had described, it was beautiful beyond words.

Jeremy’s dark and cold expression changed. Clearly, he was convinced by what Joy said. “You’re really smart, Bae. I’m too impatient. I’ll do whatever you say. I’ll execute the plan when you say it’s time.” Then, they started shamelessly dirty talking. I hurriedly turned off the security footage, cradled my chest, leaned over the toilet bowl, and gagged. My eyes burned with such rage that they became bloodshot. I turned on the water tap and dunked my head into the water-filled basin. The feeling of asphyxiation made my head clear up.

I knew for sure I was going to drown if there was no flash of miracle. What was I even thinking? Swim to town… I went down again, then came up trying to keep my stride alive. Stream water was a hydro-oxygen sodium chloride. I just kept on struggling, somewhere from a distance, I could hear Papa's voice saying “Keep on struggling son, it’s not over” his comforting words trying to erase my misery. He always had words to motivate a drained spirit. I just kept on striding though I knew that it was of no use. I went deep again my eyed closed as enveloped my ears. I gasped for breadth but caught none in return, by body shivering in response to the cold water, my eyes were becoming hazy, probably d

I whisper. This time, the tears don’t feel like weakness. They feel like healing. Like something finally beginning. ************************ Unspoken Desires - Book 3…. Coming Soon

I heard one of the female trainees mutter behind his back, "I didn't know Dr. Steward had a heart of stone." I scoffed. Yves wasn't a heartless, emotionless person.

And the quiet, growing certainty of something that had started as one woman's silence and had become without announcement, without drama, page by page and person by person a structure built for all the ones who had ever run deep instead of running away. Still Waters. Finally. Named.