The Good Rain Book Novels & Stories

She gently set the storybook down and quietly slipped out of the room, closing the door to avoid waking him. Just the previous day, she had checked with Melinda about her library books and realized there were no new ones to browse today. Heading toward the front door, she intended to take a stroll through the garden when she noticed the gentle sprinkle of rain starting outside. Looking toward the horizon, she saw dark storm clouds rolling in. For a moment, she stood at the door, inhaling the heavy, dense air. She used to love the rain for its scent, but now she wished it would stop so she could spend more time outdoors.

She smiled at me, picked a few more boxes, and moved them upstairs. Kaden spent a few hours in his office. An hour after breakfast Mrs. Raynolds came in the drawing-room and deposited three books on the coffee table, inclined her head, and left to return a few minutes later with tea. One book was a study in werewolf society, one was a history of the region and more specifically Blakewoods and the Devon family line, and the last one was the detailed duties of a Luna.

*** Kent POV As I reached the meeting place, I roamed my eyes around and the place seems darker than yesterday. I saw a few stars from the sky so maybe a storm will come. I wasn't wrong, the rain started to pour down from the dark sky. I was inside the car waiting for Cassandra's message. I heard my phone beep. I check my inbox and saw her text. "I'm inside. You can come in." She said in the text.

Caitlyn" died. Unfortunately she was still pregnant. We all were crying for her sorrowful death. She and her unborned baby yet , when the rain stopped, and they covered her face with the white sheet , I was there to witness it all, she suddenly woke up like a corpse ,then screamed high and loud ,and blood were coming from the inside of her wetting the whole bed sheets to the floor, I can remember the smell. till today it is unforgetable thing . suddenly it started raining again but it wasn't normal rain, it was very heavy rain I have never witnessed before , yet it was like waking up to the warmth of the morning , the rain became blooded all crops were stained in red , we only saw red for lo

As their encounter ignites a flame that neither can extinguish, they both realize that the storm outside was nothing compared to the fire they’ve just unleashed within themselves. Marcel’s P.O.V. The rain pounded against the windows of the book store violently, the kind of storm that drowned the city in silver sheets and made the world outside feel distant, insignificant. The shop was empty, save for the scent of old paper and ink swirling in the warm air. And her.

“No classes for you today, huh?” “No, thank goodness. You look like you’re ready for the rain, though—that, or about to head out into some big storm on the Atlantic!” Stacie held her arms out to her sides, displaying her raincoat. “I know, right? You should see my books—I’ve got them triple wrapped in plastic bags. At least we’ll stay dry, my books and I.” “Ha! That sounds like something out of Dr. Seuss—‘at least we’ll stay dry, my books and I.’”

It was a dream about a set of people in a different world with different sets of rules. In Goodness’ dream, he claimed that he saw some people moving excitedly in an unfamiliar library at the centre of a small town. They were books with different covers: black, brown, yellow, pink and even blonde covers. The men and women all had long beards that extended to their jaw. The place was so weird with all sorts of weird customs and traditions and weird fruit bearing trees. The scent in the air was unpleasant like charred old newspapers. The sky was a worrisome grey, such as he had never seen before in his life. Some of the men carried historical books, screaming delightfully with open hearts as t

She sat in the south-facing window of the Iron Veil library with the founding records open in her lap and felt the floor shift beneath everything she thought she knew. Outside, the rain the morning had been promising finally arrived — quiet against the window glass, steady and indifferent. She did not close the book.

JULIAN ST. CLAIR’S POV *Low lighting. Shadows cling to the bookshelves, stretching like secrets. Rain whispers against the tall windows. The storm outside is gentle — almost tender. I sunk my bottocks in my chair, alone at my desk, a half-empty glass of whiskey in my hand. A bottle of something old and expensive rests beside me.*

ERICA The book in my hands was good. Too good. The kind of good that made you forget the world around you, that pulled you into a reality so immersive, you felt the weight of each word like it was your own story. I had been reading for hours, curled up on my bed, wrapped in the comfort of my oversized sweater, with nothing but the steady rhythm of rain tapping against the window to accompany me. It was one of those rare moments of peace, where time slowed, and nothing else existed except the pages in front of me.