Sula Books Novels & Stories

- • Alyssa's POV As I entered the room, I was immediately struck by the beautiful sight before me. The paintings on the wall seemed to blink at me, as if greeting me. The room was painted white with stunning murals hand-painted on the burnt orange and red walls. The furniture was rustic and dark, complemented by vibrant cushions. I had never seen a room with so much furniture and so many hues. The white velvet curtains hid the long windows across the room, leaving only a shy peek. The floor was polished wood, dark and free of clutter. The room looked amazing; it was designed not just to be a room, but to feel like home. I could stay here forever.

Said the things that lived in the darkness weren't fit for my eyes. But I heard him. Not his words, not clearly. The stone is too thick, the distance too great. But I heard his voice. The tone he uses when he's trying to control something he can't. The edge that creeps in when he's losing a battle he didn't know he was fighting. And I heard her. Lia. Laughing. Even now. Even chained and beaten and locked in a cell. Even with my husband's hands around her throat,I saw the bruises when the guards weren't looking, saw the purple fingerprints blooming like poison flowers on her skin.

These stories ranged from tales of triumph and resilience to accounts of cultural traditions and the bonds forged through shared humanity. Luna compiled these stories into a book titled "Voices of Seoul," a testament to the diverse voices that make up the vibrant tapestry of the city. Through the publication of the book, Luna aimed to not only give a voice to those whose stories often go unheard but also to provide a platform for readers around the world to connect with the people of Seoul on a deeply personal level.

Theresa was old enough to have experience, but looked young enough to please Salem’s eyes—two key requirements for a housekeeper in his home. “Where is Salem now?” I asked. A good feeding would soothe my nerves. “He’s not at home, my lady. I couldn’t tell you.” Grumbling, I headed to Salem’s library. Perhaps he had a book I could entertain myself with. Once there, I found a book lying open on a desk. It was titled Mythic Bloodlines: Lost & Fabled Lilitu. Curious, I studied an illustration on the open page. It depicted a trio of strange-looking women, just like the ones Salem had been painting all this time. The accompanying text stated:

Sylvia blabbed. Shut up, Sylvia. I don't believe you. Roxanne said. Sylvia heaved a deep breath, reminiscing on what she saw. It wasn't a dream, she definitely saw it. Her eyes shone brightly and the book too. That book..it's possessing you, stop reading it. Sylvia said and tried to take the book away. Don't touch that. Roxanne snapped and hit her hand away. Hmm, keep reading it..I don't care anyways but don't worry I'll still love you, no matter what. Sylvia said and Roxanne grinned.

Nanny Rita said it contains some cute stuff from her high school days – a phase in her life that brought her so much trauma. She breathed deep before opening the bag. It contains old slum books and a diary with broken lock. She smirked thinking that her mother could have forced to open it. She must be disappointed to see nothing juicy about the things that she wrote there. Her younger life was boring and predictable until it wasn't. In fact, each page of her diary contains almost the same events. As she randomly went through each page, she noticed a paper inserted within its pages. She almost dropped the diary upon seeing that paper from way back. It's still obvious that it was once cru

“Then take the meeting. Just don’t promise him anything.” “We won’t,” Elise said. “We’re done making deals with devils.” --- That night, after tucking Katherine in and lighting a candle on the porch, Sophia sat with her laptop and opened the draft of her memoir. She hadn’t touched it in weeks. But now, the story had changed. No longer a story of survival. A story of resistance. Of choice. Of taking back what was stolen. She typed a new title at the top of the first page: The Asset Who Spoke.