Novel & Cerita The Late War Book

Zoya said dismissively as she left for her room. Zoya's room was like a wonderland for different kinds of books, quotes, poetry, art and photos. She loved taking photos a lot and had two cameras which made this quite easy for her. Her wall was plastered with different colors of photos and aesthetic poetry that gives the room a very vibrant feel. It was large and very bright. This was also her favourite part of the house because she gets to do whatever she wanted in there without being criticized or called a nerd except on some occasions. Her room wasn't really like a typical female room, it was more like a library. With the very tall shelves inhabiting hundreds of novels and books, her furni

I browsed the shelves, and I read the titles. Into the fire, A firsthand Account of the extraordinary Battle in Afghan War by Dakota Meyer, Bing West 500 Days, Secrets and Lies in the Terror Wars- Kurt Eichenwald The War for crown and Empire There are all sorts of books about wars here. I paused in front of a book that I deemed the most interesting. I pulled it out of the shelf and stared at it, contemplating whether to get on with it or not. I can choose a much thinner book… The 33 Strategies of War- Robert Greene

She had thought about it during the war and had put it aside, but perhaps now was the time to make a different decision. Opening her carry bag, she reached into a small space and brought out a letter. The white paper the letter had been written on was now the color of a brown envelope. She had kept the letter in this bag while the war was still going on, hoping to come back to it one day, but she had gotten caught up in all the activities and nursing. Tattered and torn from the places the bag had been and the months it had stayed in, the letter was barely legible in some areas. But she could still point out the essential parts of the letter if she looked hard enough.

– I blurted out with an air of skepticism, almost spitting out the coffee I had just sipped in my mouth. - Relax… we are not going to burn down the lab or anything. Since your project also depends on him now, well, we need to guarantee he's kept alive. - She winked. - Right? - You have to outsmart him. War tactics also include playing the role of the silent, peaceful, lovely enemy, who is always ready for any attack. Preparation is everything, darling. It's half the war won. - Okay? - I must confess that there were times when Susie surprised me, or scared me. And that was one of them, and I just could not decide which was it this time. It could easily be both.

She commented as she picked up the paper she was taking a note on. "The book is written by a woman called Lady Waina Silver. It says that the woman was present during the war thirty years ago so she could document the war well. She traveled with the women who cooked and nursed the soldiers so she was pretty close to the events that took place at the time. Sources are names as well but it's an endless list of men and woman who had surrounded the war, but a few names stood out, which are the four horsemen of the war..." So Old Lady Waina wrote the book herself? How interesting? I wonder how she wrote it though and how she followed the king to war. Thirty years ago might be a long time but I ha

Things were still pretty good back then after the war that separated us from the Werewolves. When things died down, it was like a breath of fresh air for us to be free with who we were. “Do you see anything?” Not yet, all these things were just records of administration and important events. The book was quite huge so I knew that I was in for a long time. It was very dusty so I had to hold my breath Everytime I flipped the pages. “I think I found something.” Lawrence crouched beside me to look at the book. The entry dated

Every glowing red book on Serith’s bookshelf represented the Serithian wars that had been fought over all these centuries. Blank pages and words that wrote our accursed fates to lift a curse ages old. Sixty wars were written by sixty different Messiahs and Saints, but the rest six were for us to write. Every pale book between the red books were the records of a time period that existed between two Serithian wars. My sixth war ended today, the sixty-sixth book should end today. I walked beside Zephyr, who was peering at the sixty-sixth book. It was opened at its last blank page, but words weren’t appearing on it.

Each wooden ledge branded with a faded, handwritten label proclaiming— HISTORY. World War I. World War II. Forgotten battles in faraway places she’d vaguely heard of. The patriarchal pissing contest that stained our collective yesterdays recounted, retold, revisited in page after ponderous page. Heavy tomes groaning with the weight of mistakes made and hearts broken. Hopes dashed and success stolen. Forgotten lives buckling under the burden of dreams lost. She strolled, her eyes scanning the large letters embossed on covers puckered and creased. The dog-eared corners of aged paper discovered when the book was lifted, turned, opened.

“The guy who wrote this book was a leader in the war. He kept talking about the importance of a blood line. His blood line to be precise.” He closes the very old book and hands it to me ‘The War.’ By Aldous Kitson.

There was a kind of respect in the way he let the question dangle. My father nodded once, a crisp downward dip of the chin. “For now.” Another pause, its duration just long enough to reestablish the hierarchy. Then he leaned back slightly, a posture less of relaxation than of disengagement. “There is a difference,” he continued, “between a war that begins by accident….” His gaze found Alexander again. “…and one that begins by design.” The implication hung between us. Someone wanted this war. It was no longer just a matter of pride or territory or even Gabriel; it was a matter of design, and my father intended to be its architect, not its victim.