The Woman Who Was Kept On A Shelf Novels & Stories

It was difficult, but finally, we got the footage, and I will get to see the bastard who did it. The video had finished downloading, so I played it, and just from the start, I recognized the woman; my heart started racing as I watched her search through the shelves searching for it. She kept looking until she found it; a smile appeared on her lips when she did. She stared at it for a minute before she pocketed it. Done, she raked the things from the shelf, making them fall to the floor before she ran out. “Ana!”

How many lives had been destroyed to fill this warehouse? “Ladies and gentlemen!” A voice boomed over the speakers. “Welcome to tonight’s exclusive auction. We have some truly exceptional offerings for your satisfaction.” I pressed myself against the back of my cage as the man continued. My heart was beating wildly in my chest as I tried to convince myself that this was not true. This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be happening. “And now, gentlemen, our crown jewel!” The man’s voice cracked with excitement as two guards unlocked my cage. “Lot number seven. She is a former Luna. Anna Anderson, still wearing her wedding dress from just this morning.”

“Isobel had this beautiful arrangement of roses, carnations, and baby’s breath we had to throw out. You would’ve loved them.” “Oh, man.” I snapped my fingers in disappointment. “I have no idea why I didn’t pop in.” Until I realized, oh yeah, I’d been moping in my apartment because Lana had fired me. Wow, it didn’t seem as if that had only been last week. So much had happened and changed since then. “Oh my God, I love this purse!” I jumped, not having realized another customer was in the store. When I glanced toward the woodworking half of the shop, I discovered a woman just standing up from where she’d been kneeling and studying a wicker-woven bag on a lower shelf. She held it up to show it

The shelf contained various household ornaments and things like books, vases, jewelry cases and artifacts and statues. She quickly turned a cherubim statue on the shelf backwards. It was actually the secret lock to the hidden entrance. With an hissing sound, the shelf slid back into place covering the small corridor to the room completely. The room had originally been built for her by her husband, so she could have a quiet time to herself incase she needed to get away from the headaches of daily activities. Now, it had become the perfect sanctuary for her to hide the red haired Miss. She knew Lana would not be safe if she had treated her in her own bedroom. It was obvious from the way she lo

"A truly exceptional offering. Reserve your judgment until you've seen her, gentlemen." The curtain at the back of the stage was pulled aside, and two men wheeled something forward on a low platform. It was a glass cage, about six feet long and four feet high, framed in black iron with panels thick enough to muffle sound. Inside it, lying on a bare metal floor with her wrists bound and a strip of cloth tied over her eyes, was a woman. Beatrice？

On the fifteenth floor, the guard stationed outside opened the door and the worn outdoor made a hissing sound indicating the poor condition of the warehouse. Inside the warehouse a woman sat at a corner with chains claps on her wrist and feet restricting her movements. Her hair was scattered across her face portraying a mentally challenged woman. Her clothes which were tattered did no justice in hiding her malnourished state. On her body were old and fresh wounds. No one In his right frame of mind would link the pitiful creature to a highly respected figure in America. “I see you aren't unconscious. It seems like the guards haven't been doing their job.” Benita said as she entered the room w

It smelled like bleach and hospital rooms. They rounded the corner into the main chamber. "What the fuck?" Bianca stopped. Her boots skidded on the linoleum. In the center of the bunker sat a room made of reinforced glass. It wasn't a cell. It was a terrarium. Inside, a woman sat in a white armchair, her hair long and colorless, reaching down to her waist. She was staring at a blank wall, her fingers twitching in her lap. "Mom?" The woman didn't move. She was a shell, skin like parchment stretched over bone.

​Sitting at a circular, antique mahogany table in the center of the lavishly decorated saloon was Madame Vivienne Laurent. ​The second Keeper of the Elysium Council was a woman of elegant, terrifying composure. Despite the two black-clad phantoms crashing through her ceiling, she did not flinch. She sat gracefully, wrapped in a pristine white cashmere shawl, her silver hair styled in a flawless, sharp bob. In her hands, she held a delicate porcelain teacup, her pale blue eyes watching them with a cold, clinical curiosity that matched her high-tech armor.

Sky The guard opens another door and shoves me inside. The room is dimly lit, and in the center stands a glass case with a wooden frame carved into the shape of a woman. The figure’s arms are spread wide, jutting out through circular holes in the glass walls. It’s grotesque—an object designed to make me feel more like a display than a person. “Get in,” he commands, his voice cold.

About focusing on survival instead of chasing impossible hopes. But I had come this far. I had to know. "I am certain," I said. We entered together. The warehouse was vast and empty, sunlight streaming through broken windows. Dust motes danced in the light. Our footsteps echoed on concrete floors. And in the center of the space, on a simple metal chair, sat a woman. She was older than I remembered from faded photographs. Her hair was streaked with gray. Her face bore scars I did not recognize. Her clothes were simple, worn, nothing like the elegant pack dress I had seen in pictures.