That Corner Novels & Stories

It was in the middle of nowhere and the people were so nice. We had found a charming café called Moonlit corner. Walking in, we were seated by a host in a cute little booth in a corner. Leaning over to Nicolas's ear, I whispered, "this is a nice, secluded booth, we could make out here." Nibbling in his ear as I whispered this.

It looked empty but then I found it odd so I strolled back to it and roamed my gaze around its perimeter. No one was in, but just as I was about to move away, I noticed a slight movement in one of its dark corners and I looked carefully to realize that someone was actually in there. With that, I brought out the keys and tried to open the cells, and after some manipulation and jingling, I finally did. With unrushed steps, I paced towards the figure in the corner of the cell now, but then as I got close, the figure started to tremble. The figure was suddenly trembling very fearfully and I was forced to halt.

LEONARDO CASSANO'S POV “Look at that girl, she's pretty, isn't she?” Alex asks, tapping me. I roll my eyes and look up to humor him, expecting to see another of his strippers or pole dancers. But instead, my eyes see an angel. She’s dressed in white shorts, black tank top and white jacket. Her little feet are encased in block heels, and she’s currently sitting at the bar with a group of friends.

I ran, booking it. Straight down. Another cross-section. I paused quickly to make sure no one was waiting around the corner. Looked left and right, then ran forward again. It ended in another section, with a short part going left. Three doors, one on the corner. I rushed up to it. Indistinguishable yelling got louder. My hand felt around frantically for the hole she said was here. The lack of torches in this corner made it hard to make anything out at all. I felt out, both hands spreading every possible place until there. There. A hole! On the right side, when all the other doors here had handles on the left. I stuck a couple fingers in, grasped the frame with my other hand, and pulled. It w

His cock, appearing to be only semi-hard, was already about as big as Malachi’s. Willow stumbled when her foot hit an object on the floor. Looking down, she saw that a layer of soft leather covered the floor in the corner of the room she’d been inching toward. She looked up and noticed that the walls in that corner were lined with the same type of padded leather. She stepped up onto the padding and continued toward the corner before looking back toward Hart. who was now only inches away, having closed the gap between them in the seconds it had taken her to wonder about why the corner was padded.

AXEL POV We rushed through. Down concrete stairs. Into the basement. Emergency lighting only. Red glow. Long hallway. Doors on both sides. "Northwest corner," Bull said. "This way." We moved fast. Checking each door. Empty. Empty. Empty. Reached the northwest corner. One door. Heavy steel. Reinforced. "This is it," I said. Striker placed more charges. We stepped back. Counted down. Three. Two. One. Explosion.

By the fourth night, Jamie knew better than to pretend the corner booth was empty. Even when it was. Bar Della Luna remembered people. Not in the sentimental way; no nostalgia, no warmth but like a ledger. Inked entries. Names written once and never crossed out. The booth carried that same memory now, a presence that lingered even when Adrian wasn’t there, like the shape a body left behind on a bed.

141 Dane. My corner table at the bar was tucked behind a column, far enough from the entrance that I could watch who came and went without being watched myself. The bartender knew to keep my drinks coming without fuss, and the waitstaff never hovered long enough to overhear a real conversation.

>POV: Blake I rоund the corner whеrе Nеоn’ѕ gіrlѕ normally work, аnd feel mу сhеѕt clench. I pity thеѕе рооr women. I may be ѕtаndіng іn ѕԛuаlоr, but I’vе hit thе jасkроt bесаuѕе Neon is rіght thеrе, tаlkіng to оnе оf hеr security guуѕ.

Across the street, a small convenience store, its front faded and its sign barely legible, seems to be the only business open. "Candy Corner," I make out, the letters peeling. A very odd store in an area that’s basically dead. Maybe a quick stop for a coffee, a bottle of water. I cross the street, my eyes still darting around, looking for any clue, any sign that this wasn't a wasted trip.