The Graveyard Book Novels & Stories

“That bastard. I swear when we figure out who he is, I'll have so much fun drilling a hole through his spine.” I rolled back to my desk, heart pounding like a caged beast, and flipped open the encrypted tablet on my desk. The screen flickered to life, displaying the city map with layers of safehouses, tunnel systems, and red zones marked off. I pulled up the feed Jonah—or Marco—had given us. The Graveyard. A location buried under two blocks of condemned territory. A place supposedly wiped out in a fire ten years ago. Too forgotten. Too perfect. I zoomed in.

It’s the sound of doors locked from the inside. Instead, he asks, "What are you drawing?" Nova tilts the notebook to show him. It’s a sketch of the graveyard—but different. The trees are more twisted, the gravestones cracked and half-buried. In the background, shadows with hollow eyes watch from behind the trunks. "That’s... pretty grim," Atlas says. "It’s honest. This place feels like that to me. Like there’s more dead than living, even outside the graveyard." He can’t argue with that.

Every kindergarten had refused to accept him because of his violent tendencies. On the television, the news was reporting that a woman named Maisie Gray had won ten million dollars in the lottery. At that moment, Zoe suddenly went mad. She grabbed the knife in her hand and stabbed both Lucas and Edwin to death before stabbing herself. When the news reached me, I was drinking coffee in the villa I had just bought overseas. My father was fishing, my mother was tending to her flowers, and my brother was studying in Horvar. I still had a beautiful, happy life ahead of me.

Follow, vote, comment and share... Lyka's P.O.V I didn't go to sleep the whole night as I just couldn't. The nightmares will return so I decided to go in the library. I have been seated for over five hours in the damn library with nothing to eat or drink as I read the old books and papers with a smell that makes me want to puke. My eyes have not dared to close on me as I read the thirtieth book. I have not found any useful information that can locate the blood moonstone and finish this once and for all.

And the fact that she still didn't lie made it even worse. "She is a reporter, she earns her bread with it." "But that doesn't mean she has to ..." “Grace! Eve! “, Mr. Keiper matures across the room. "If you don't take part in the conversation, at least be quiet and listen!" "Sorry," we both mumbled at the same time. I pulled the newspaper over to me and read the lines again that had spoiled me all morning. Proles madness in humans The level of the Venator's Guild continues to decline

I said through gritted teeth. There was no other relief that could compare to the King retiring to his room for the night and leaving the wolves to grieve. As a community, we huddled together in our designated field meant for last rites. While building up Cole’s funeral pyre, the wolves began to hum the simple, somber song as part of our letting go ritual. Being Alpha, it was my job to light the pyre. With my torch in hand, I walked forward to say goodbye.

The fire was reduced to glowing embers to prevent attracting attention, should there be someone or something in the vicinity, but it was warm enough in the season for them not to need a fire for comfort. Because Kendra was rejuvenated by her extended nap, she offered to take the first watch. Her aunt and cousin were asleep before she’d managed to settle into position for her task. She watched their chests move up and down to the rhythm of their steady breathing and sighed. Regret for not dealing with Rupert in a different way consumed her. She’d grown up in that cave. It may have been small, but it was home. It provided an anchor. It was a sanctuary that offered love and gave them a sense of

Asher walked down the gravel path, which led to the familiar graveyard, a bunch of red roses clutched tightly in his arms. It was eerily calm, not even the birds or insects dared to make noise here. The trees danced lazily with the wind and the moisture it carried hinted an impending rain. No matter how many times he visited this place, he couldn’t get used to the heaviness that was pressing his heart.

The old man was too weak to travel. “Go,” they recited together and threw their cards. When the heroes looked back, the beggar had melted into the earth. Iron railings, rusted and twisted from time’s decay, surrounded the graveyard. A perpetually squeaking fence greeted them with ear piercing shrieks. The old tombs were crumbling and decayed, becoming little more than havens for giant spiders and other violent aberrations of nature. “Kill.” “Kill.” “Kill,” was repeated over and over.

Would she find her happily ever after somewhere in the bosom of Selene the moon goddess? My meditation was interrupted by the arrival of the black hearse. I watched pallbearers carry the casket from the hearse to the burial site, where the body of whoever this hole was bored for would rest. I walked deeper into the graveyard. Memories flooded my brain as I did so. I stopped at the innermost part of the graveyard, I noticed that most of the headstones were damaged and faded with the passage of time. I can tell that the graveyard was more than 150 years old by some of the legible inscriptions. There’s an inscription of a man who died in 1861. He probably lived in an era where there was no tele