Tenth Of December Book Novels & Stories

I let out a long breath the moment the plane lifted off. It felt as though I'd finally fulfilled a wish of mine that I'd suppressed in my heart for years. Closing my eyes, I switched my phone to airplane mode before I let myself drift to sleep. I'd waited far too long for a rest like this. My favourite light music played on repeat in my earphones, and the gentle tune almost made me forget all the pain I'd suffered in the past. My voice trembled as I whispered to myself, "You're finally free, Isabella."

"Everything you flaunted was a handout you never deserved. Keep your worthless five percent and let Mira balance your books. "Now, tell me, Cassian. Do you still think you have the right to take me anywhere?"

I nodded slowly, realizing what his answer truly meant: the Living Book wasn't here. Whether he didn’t trust me, or the danger was too great to carry it along, I didn’t know. But I stopped searching. Instead, I buried myself in the small cube Zevarion had gifted me, fingers working it restlessly as I tried to anchor my thoughts in the memory of his warmth, his arms, his voice. Each night grew colder. Each morning, darker. And then, on the eleventh day, just as the book had warned, we reached it. The horses slowed, snorting uneasily. Even the wind stilled, as though the very earth held its breath.

I'd gone from wanting to marry the man I'd loved for ten years to deciding the end the engagement. What made my decision absolute was something on the very top of Jacob's bookshelf—a single display piece made of building blocks. I'd accidentally knocked over the bookshelf while doing a deep clean of the house. The thick wooden shelves and the hefty building blocks hit me hard enough to make my head spin. The crash was so loud that it drew Jacob's attention. He rushed into the study, but the first thing he did wasn't to ask if I was okay or help me up. Instead, he stared at the scattered building blocks on the floor, more furious than I'd ever seen him.

The property turned inward fully in December, which was its natural December mode — the garden under its winter mulch, the trees bare, the quality of the days short and cold and clear in the way of December days that were doing what December days were supposed to do without apology. Anya found December clarifying in the same way she found October clarifying, though differently. October’s clarity was the clarity of things being shown as they were. December’s clarity was the clarity of things stripped to their essentials. The above-ground finished for the season. The roots doing their winter work in the dark.

Back in the master bedroom, Anthony walked straight into the bathroom. He turned on the cold water and let it pour over him from head to toe. The icy stream washed over his body, but it could not rinse away the nausea left behind by what he had just witnessed. The gentle, innocent girl he had once sheltered under the family's protection; her core was rotten to the bone. He had been wrong. Completely wrong. If what Cheryl showed tonight was her true nature, then what about the past?

Midnight in Mayrelle City. Snow filled the sky. I clutched the divorce agreement in my palm and didn't feel cold at all. A message popped up on my phone—from my sister. Just as expected. He had rushed off again to be with her. Maisie: [Adele, your husband and I have run out of condoms. Can you bring some over for us?] Maisie: [Carthorpe Hotel, Room 1206. Make sure they're ultra-thin.]

She thought about the shape the sixth one was going to have and she thought about the thing she was thinking about that she had not yet said out loud, the real and coming and almost-time thing, and she thought about what the sixth December was going to look like when the thing arrived. She was glad. End of chapter 107

The grand library glowed with the soft amber light of floating lanterns and a roaring hearth fire that cast long, dancing shadows across towering shelves. Guests had retired for the evening after another lavish solstice supper, but the manor refused to sleep. Enchanted books rustled faintly on their own, pages turning as if reading scandalous secrets aloud. Elara slipped inside after midnight, telling herself she only wanted a quiet moment with a novel to calm her racing mind. In truth, her body burned.

"That is because there is none and there never was. I can't believe you actually believe what I said about this book lying here for a century without being read by a single person. Take a look at the top of the book. What does it says?" "Christmas songs!" "What is the month now?" "October." "It is good that you actually know we are yet to get to December. Now, drop the book where you saw it." "Alright," Goodness obeyed. It is rational to assume that Goodness just made up this dream because it actually doesn't makes sense to me. What is inside the book? Who is the blonde woman? I don't know why I remembered the dream he told me about today but it was better than remembering about Clag's death