The Waiting Game Book Novels & Stories

He thought: the bench has been waiting since Ellie drew it. He thought about all the honest elements waiting — the corner step and the kitchen hatch and the corridor sill in the school and all the honest elements in all the honest rooms still waiting for the attending bodies that would confirm them. He thought about the waiting as the preparation — the room waiting for the person the way December waited for the light. He thought: the honest element waits without impatience. He thought: waiting is part of the preparation. He was glad. End of Chapter Two Hundred and Forty-Three

I drift off to sleep on the plane on the way back to Texas, only to awaken after having a very vivid dream or maybe I should say fantasy of Drake. I pour myself a drink and try to relax. I decided to change clothes and freshen up, just in case Drake met me at the airfield. Silly how I have to remind myself this is all just a game. I catch myself wanting him, wanting to please him, wanting to give myself to him. I have to remember that I want to hurt him, make him regret how he treated me. Lila, my wolf also reacts to Drake so strongly I constantly have to reign in. I continue to sip the burning alcohol that I am drinking, my excitement continues to grow at the thought of seeing Drake. Noth

The book is yet to happen, I am yet to arrive, wrongs are yet to set themselves right, wounds are yet to be healed. A lot can happen over coffee– the punch-line in the Café Coffee Day counter in the airport was treachery at its best! Nothing had actually happened! After two cappuccinos, the punch-line surfaced as a smirk – “Go, see, feel and touch your genitals while you pee. Nothing else’s really going to happen! It’s your Waiting for Godot moment. So wait.”

Chapter 133 The abyss shifted. Not in distance or dimension, but in quality—like a curtain being drawn back, revealing not a stage but an infinite gameboard stretching in every direction. Reflections formed into tiles, shadows into pieces, resonance into the rules that bound them. Every surface shimmered with possibility, and every step promised consequence. The presence spoke, not as words but as a weight pressing into our bones, into our choices. *You are players.* *Play.* Madison’s eyes widened, her shadows trembling like smoke caught between winds. “They… they’ve been waiting for this. Not just to watch, not just to reflect. They wanted someone to step forward. To prove we’re worth the r

Watching and waiting. . . . Watching and waiting.

“No, I want you to be hard, to be cold. Calculating. In a world such as ours, I don’t want you weak. And even if it means others have to suffer for you to see it, I will do so.” The waiter came. He looked at the waiter. “Stand here.” The waiter stood. Then he leaned back. “Why don’t you order something?” “I will not,” I said, leaning back and folding my arms. I looked out of the glass window, staring into the city. If he thought he was stubborn, then I would show him how stubborn I was. Two could play at that game. Two minutes passed by and nothing was said, I stole a glance at Darius to see that he was playing a game on his phone and laughing. Then I looked to see the waiter still standing

I finish Finn and Fiona, the last chapter, finally, the one I've been rationing, and I sit with the closed book in my lap and think about Fiona at her kitchen window with her hands in soapy water, realising the waiting wasn't a failing. It was preparation. Outside, the grey morning has become a grey afternoon. The house breathes its held breath. We wait. Steve has been missing since before my second attack. No one knows where he is, but we know he is coming. He won’t be far behind. He cannot be far behind. He is waiting for the perfect time to strike, and we are ready for him,m too. I am ready for him, ready to make him pay for everything.

It was a tracker. I dug deeper into the bag and found a children's storybook, ‘The Hunting Game.’ I skimmed through the pages, there no words on them only colored pictures but what I thought was a story for children was actually a morbid depiction of the game. I had to find the bird before the wolves do or they would eat its heart. There were other characters in the book like the doctor, the police, and the civilians. In total there were twenty-four of them excluding the bird, the same number we were. There were no rules written in the book only the vague riddle at the end. ‘He who has the bird has the power.’ And the warning from the voice, ‘don’t tell anyone about your role.’ My head ached

I glanced at him from under my lashes as he lifted his champagne glass and took a lazy sip, his eyes now hidden behind dark sunglasses. We were playing the game again. Pretending like nothing happened. But I wasn’t the only one losing my grip. He could hide behind motivational books and passive glances all he wanted, but I saw it. He looked at me like a man who wanted to devour something he couldn’t touch. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t waiting for him to break that rule again. ACE The whir of the jet’s systems was the only sound I paid attention to—well, that and the quiet fizz of champagne in my glass. I turned a page in An Enemy Called Average and let the words blur as my mind wander

The Adam that no one else but me could see I'd woken up with a start, recalling the message and had taken my phone to check if I hadn't been hallucinating. Turns out I wasn't. "Four hours. Give me four hours,"I texted. Adam replied almost instantly, "I have waited weeks. I can wait four more hours. I'll be waiting." My heart raced with excitement and I clutched the phone to my chest. He had texted. Finally! I had waited for so long that I almost gave up. Perhaps that was the problem. Waiting.