Suri Burn Book Novels & Stories

The dry grass crackled in the evening breeze. Pale green streaks at the base of the stems were all that showed it was alive, struggling against the heat of the summer sun and a rainless afternoon. Thunder rumbled in the distance, but the clouds refused to release their water. A large sign with a bear in a hat declaring the fire danger “extreme” glared out over the road. A car sped by, the taillights fading into the setting sun. A red glowing cigarette ember flicked out of the open window, landing on the dark asphalt. It rolled gently, swirling in odd circles until finally resting on the edge of the road. The parched breeze puffed, pushing the small glowing light into the grass. It only took

I knew Zuri would be furious, and she might fly to my bedroom window that was still ajar. Although I knew the iron bars there would prevent Zuri from entering through my window, I knew they wouldn't stop her from burning everything in my room to ashes—including the pretty woman beneath me—even though my skin wouldn't get burnt. Even if my fair skin was set ablaze, it would still heal and seal up like it wasn't injured, without leaving any scar. "Ahh!" The pretty one beneath me continued to moan and scream loudly in pain, and I knew that would enrage Zuri more, as she could hear us.

But even that reminder doesn’t stop my mind from flashing images of him behind my closed eyelids. The roots that are inked all over his groin, stems growing over his stomach, until they bloom into different colored flowers on his chest that I’ve felt his heart racing in. Black and white snakes, their bodies tangling down one thigh while a night sky, with a blood red moon and black birds in flight play out on the other. His neck, that ink that’s been bitten between my teeth, with feathers spread on both sides, a colorful dragon breathing bright orange-reddish fire on the front, coming up till just under his chin. And his back, that my nails have sunken into, scratched, grabbed for mercy, cove

"But what really happened here? Why is a book burnt?. I wrote quickly, my hand still trembling. I don't know. I touched one book and it started to burn. I dropped it. It was a weak lie, but it was all I had in that moment of panic. Suddenly, Noah's eyes caught something. He grabbed my hand roughly, turning it over. "You're burned." He was right. My hand was red and blistered from where I had held the burning book. I had been so terrified by what I'd read and by the fire that I hadn't even felt the pain.

Suddenly, a firm hand gripped her head, cutting off her thoughts— And then— ~FSHUUUUU!~ “ARGGHHHHHH!!!” Heat seared through her head as the hand that held her burned through her hair and began to dig into her flesh. Smoke came out of her burning skin as simmering sounds echoed within the room. “STOOOOPP! I’LL TAAALLLK! I’ll… I’ll talk…” As the searing heat ceased, Sylvia was left with the lingering sensation of burning, both physical and mental.

The earth shook beneath us, dust spilling from the broken walls as fire rose higher, brighter, until it felt like the sky itself was burning. I clutched Kieran to my chest, his body arching in my arms, every breath a blaze. Heat burst from him in waves, searing my skin raw. My burns screamed, begging me to let go. But I held tighter. The girl cried out and stumbled back, her small hands thrown over her face. The flames lit her hair and cloak in red. She shielded her eyes, but I could still see the creatures through the fire.

Tears filled her eyes as she whispered against his chest, “Then burn it down. Burn the book. Please.” But when he reached for the pages, the blood hissed back like flames resisting him. The book laughed—a sharp, broken sound akin to paper tearing apart: “You can’t burn her story, fox; you can only read it…and reading means obeying.” Camela’s scream caught in her throat as she muttered, “It spoke…” Vincent bared his teeth in defiance as his fire flared even higher. “Then I’ll silence it,” he said fiercely. He slammed his hand down, his fire blazing but the pages didn’t burn. Instead, they bled harder and thicker, flooding the floor until it reached their ankles.

WARNING SIGNS: LANGUAGE THAT IS UNAMBIGUOUS CURSING VIOLENCE, GUN VIOLENCE SELF-INFLICTED HARM BLOOD, DECEASE, and GORE LUCA POV It would have to stay bandaged for a bit since she had second-degree burns. The doctor mentioned that if the flames had touched her skin for just three more seconds, it could have resulted in lasting scars. Her wrists had gotten much better. I had learned some of what he did to her.

"H-how? I remember perfectly well when you were swimming in the burning flames of the poisonous fire." Amethyst muttered under her breath, still analysing the black covers of the big, bold book that she knew she burnt a few months ago. Her hands trembled at its heaviness — at how fresh and old it smelled. Old tales and unknown prophecies were still lingering on every page she turned over.

James said slowly. "Are you supporting them?" Peter Okeke asked. "No I am not." "You must know that burning a human is setting them on fire and fire is not friendly when it comes in contact with a human skin." James took the book, flipped through the pages then he gave the book to Paul Okeke. "Read that story." Paul Okeke collected the book from James hands. The title was written in bold letters like the previous story he read. It was titled: A GRUESOME DEATH. He swallowed and started reading loudly.