The Still Point Book Novels & Stories

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Music lane still clean. Mind lane still opening. Chapter one hundred and ten is not an ending. It is a record of a girl who can stand in a department room and lie down in a locked house and rise the next morning still herself— sore where love left her, steady where craft held her, loud when boundaries require volume, soft when safety is real. Still not over. Still whole in more than one way. Still going.

Jennifer became a speaker for God, sharing her experiences with women and ladies to help them. Mabel was later arrested after these experiences and was jailed for life for the murder of her sister Monica. She confessed to the crime committed by her some years back. Louisa ran away from the land. No one knows her whereabouts. God was using Jennifer and Demola greatly to help both singles and young couples. Demola thought of putting all their experiences into writing to help people against the wiles of the enemy. He started writing the book encouraged by his wife, Jennifer putting her input.

I stood still in the center of the abandoned village, its silence louder than any scream. "Is anyone here?!" I cried out, my voice sharp and panicked, echoing across the empty space. Nothing. Time had stopped. The rain had ceased, frozen mid-fall, and darkness crept in from all directions, heavy and unnatural. Then—footsteps. Soft, cautious, like someone trying not to wake a sleeping thought. "Devin?"

But I saw myself in it. The girl I used to be. The woman I was becoming. And I wrote three words on the last page: Still becoming, always. Marla – POV When I walked through the schoolhouse the next morning, I noticed something new on the wall. A plaque. I hadn’t seen it before. It read: Rewrite was built on silence—transformed into song. This is not the end. This is where the chorus begins. River – POV The world didn’t get quieter. Injustice didn’t vanish.

The library, her sanctuary of silence, had become a catalyst for her own story, a story waiting to be told, a story waiting to be shared with the world. The quiet hum of the library, once a source of solace and inspiration, now pulsed with a new energy, a vibrant rhythm that mirrored the awakening of Hazel's own voice. The library, her sanctuary of silence, had become a catalyst for her own story, a story waiting to be told, a story waiting to be shared with the world.

she whispered. Flipping over a third one, she shook her head. “What is up with these cards today?” she whispered. By the end of the reading, she tapped her finger against her lips. “Well, there were some good cards, but it also had some not-so-good cards,” she said. She grabbed her notebook and opened it to a blank page. Looking over the reading, she wrote down the cards and their meanings. Closing the notebook, she gathered up her cards and put them back in their box.

I whisper. This time, the tears don’t feel like weakness. They feel like healing. Like something finally beginning. ************************ Unspoken Desires - Book 3…. Coming Soon

"Snipers are in position. He's at the top-floor window across the square. Your call." "Not yet," I said. "He's got a backup plan." This wasn't suicide. It was just the opening of a larger game. "This is between me and him," I muttered, studying the bomb and mentally dissecting every wire. It was a brilliant, chaotic trap, defying all manuals. Only Rita's erratic intuition could navigate it. Any standard protocol would turn it into a fireball. Patrick was forcing me to play her game. He was trying to prove that they were right and that I was the fool who'd stifled their brilliance.

A warm laugh. The kind that made impossible places feel safe. ❤️ ⸻ “That’s a difficult question.” ⸻ She closed the unfinished book. 📖 ⸻ “Because the answer is yes.” ⸻ Silence. ⸻ “And no.” ⸻ The library trembled slightly. ⸻ As though reality itself didn’t know how to explain her. ⸻ 🌙 The Forgotten Name The Book of Origins suddenly appeared. 📖✨