Things Have Gotten Worse Book Novels & Stories

I let the words hang for a moment. “They use.” His jaw tightens. “That’s not going to happen here.” That instinct. That certainty. It almost makes me smile. Almost. “It already is,” I reply quietly. “You just haven’t seen the full extent of it yet.” His gaze sharpens. “Then show me.” I hold his gaze for a long moment. Because this— This is where things change. Because this is where he starts to understand just how deep this goes. “There are things out there,” I say slowly, my voice steady, controlled, but edged with something darker now, something older, something that carries memory rather than theory, “far worse than hunters with silver and weapons. Things that have been waiting. Watching.

he settled back in his chair, "it used to be, yes. But things were very different before. Now it's good for me that you're here. It's perfect." "I think the years have made you crazy. You slandered me, you were going to get me out of the way, you fucked me up real bad. You did it from the start. Who was going to stay with Liam if I fell prey? You?" He leaned forward, gently pushing the plates out of the way.

“Oh, my poor, naive daughter! There is a limit to everything. I did everything for this family, but that was before. Now I am being treated like garbage in the same home that I built. I refuse to have that injustice committed against me. Let anyone try to kick me out of here, and you will see the ugly side of me. I will destroy you all!” **************END OF BOOK 1************** WATCH OUT FOR BOOK TWO

Nothing happened. I guess I was slowly becoming paranoid. I happen to think that getting so much power meant that I got it all figured out, and that wasn’t true. I had not figured out anything. If anything, my life was worse than before. I had started to dine with the dark, and I had no hope of going towards the light.

The room fell into complete silence. No one reached for a phone. No one spoke. Even Tobe, who usually filled tense moments with nervous jokes, remained quiet. Damian turned the page carefully. The ink had faded slightly, but Samuel's handwriting was still clear. He began to read aloud. People will tell this story as though Ibrahim Bako woke up one morning and decided to become a monster. They will be wrong. Evil rarely arrives in a single decision. It arrives through hundreds of compromises that eventually become impossible to distinguish from survival.

I was beginning to think this marriage wasn’t bad after all. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “There is no such thing as a good story. There is only something like a good book. A good book is where a reader finds complete solace and comfort; a way to escape harsh realities relating to his life” - R.A Higheels If you liked this chapter, please consider leaving a review!

" Well... It's really obvious... " " If you say so... " he sighed... " So which book are you working on now? " " It's titled, Purchased... About a girl who was bought at a very high price by a drug Lord. She became like a slave to him. He used her as a means of transportation for his drugs... This continued successfully until when all of a sudden the drugs that were put in her bursted and so she became very uncomfortable. She held her discomfort for some hours but when she couldn't bear it anymore. She searched for a restroom around but just before she found one... She collided with someone and fainted... And that's when her story began... "

You know what happens sometimes when you get married very young? Sometimes things don't work. When you’re young and in love, you think everything will be fine and you can survive on love. Well that's bullshit, and I know this, because I'm living in that nightmare. "We're behind our bills. You should ask for a raise. Your job covers some, not all." "Rory, I do well as a teacher. I'm applying at the university in New York. Our lives will change there."

Chapter 3: Her Bloom Isn’t Red Anymore, It’s Becoming Everything The world hadn’t ended. Not in the way people expected. No fire raining from the sky. No angels blowing trumpets. No blood oceans or horsemen galloping down the freeway. Just the same morning gridlock on E••••• Avenue, the same white noise of espresso machines screaming in corner cafes, the same looped synth - pop playlist that every shop owner swore was different. Spoiler: it wasn’t.

My lips twisted. I flipped through several more pages, skimming for new details and new hooks I could sink my teeth into. There wasn’t much more about Elyra specifically. There are plenty of vague threats about witches in general. But no clear *how* to undo what she’d done. Of course not. The people who wrote this liked to catalog disasters, not solve them. Frustration surged. I pushed the heavy book away and dragged the thinner, darker‑bound volume toward me—“Northern Lore,” Rowan had called it.