The Time In Between Novel Novels & Stories

- because I was like you in the few hours left He looked interested to hear more, So I told the story from the beginning - all of the stories start from two years ago, I was setting in the park writing my new novel, and that's when he arrived, his name is Max, the strongest one in our school, I felt something strange after I saw him, something made me so weak, something make me made me out of my mind, something made me go to him and says... - what's the time now? - time? Hmmm, it's eleven o'clock - still morning - yeah - do you have any programs today?

I and Thomas were talking about books and different genres that we liked to read. The time flew and I had no idea that it had been so long until I looked outside and saw that the sun was starting to set. ”What time is it?” I asked him. He looked at his watch and his eyes grew three sizes.

Annabelle's POV Two days. That was all we had left before dispatch. Two days before the canvases would leave the Dome and scatter themselves across continents, homes, museums, private collections, and quiet rooms where people would stand alone and feel something they could not name. It was already the last week of January. The kind that reminds you how quickly time moves when you are no longer waiting, but building. January used to be my longest month of the year but this year's January seems to be the shortest.

I placed my breakfast on the table in front of me before picking up my novel and opening to the page I left off. I spent the next two hours eating and reading my novel. Halfway through the book, my food was done but I didn’t get up from where I sat with how engrossed I was in the book. I didn’t need any more distractions, I was determined to finish the book today, which I did.

The leftovers were for the servants. Waste not right? Adrexa suddenly bursts into the kitchen, where I am patiently waiting for the outcome of my meal. "The Prince and Princess want to see you immediately!" Adrexa commands breathlessly. Shit. Adrexa quickly turns and scurries back down the corridor. I quickly follow her, but I feel incredibly fatigued from my day. The shock of my wondrous journey through time, landing me in ancient Troy, discovering I'm not dreaming, and spending the rest of the day cooking a meal using age-old techniques.

The fifth book is us. Thirty-three years between the two entries. The distance between them was the building. He sat with this. The February fire crackled. The light through the window shifted as a cloud passed — the February sky was never stable, never settled, always moving between brightness and shadow. Don came to the study.

He thought about what the answer was. He picked up the pen and wrote below the question, on the first page of the community centre notebook, in the space he had left: It knows the between-time has always needed a room. It knows the room must be entered without commitment, because the between-time is not a programme. It knows the between-time needs the field for breathing and the timber for warmth and the kitchen for the cup of tea made without being asked. It knows the corner holds the threshold person — the child and the adult and the person between the two. It knows the between-time is the village's most honest gathering because it happens without a reason. The room for the between-time is

"What time is it?" I asked him. "It's 3 pm" I overslept, having such a weird dream kept me from my work and now I'm a little behind schedule. I quickly stood up and grabbed my notebook. "Hey, you must have fallen asleep while doing that and yet here you are, writing again. Wow, I'm amazed by your passion.” I rolled my eyes at him. Should I tell him that bizarre dream? Well, it was just a dream but... It felt so unreal.

I flipped the novel to the back, and my eyes wandered to the details about the author and the book. "Let's just pretend like we are not, okay? Anyways, I called to remind you about the game we planned to play." My eyes went round, and I scrolled through my phone's messages to check the time. It's been twenty-three minutes past an hour since I started reading this book. "Owie Nate?....." I tried to explain, but he stopped me from any further explanation. "What were you doing that you didn't realize it had passed our agreed time?" I shrugged, knowing he couldn't see me.

, my breath hitches from the little shock. He stifles a laugh as he sees my reaction. "Sorry, I just thought you were forgetting our homework. Didn't want to make you jump. Where the hell were your thoughts?" "Well, not with you." "Ouch," he sighs. "Sorry, was too focused on the theme for the novel." "You do realize we have like eleven week's time?" Amusement lacing his tone. "You do realize, a novel has more than one page?" He chuckles again. God, I wish he would stop those chuckles, they get my head spinning. It's also weird that we are almost talking normal with each other.