Through My Window Book Novels & Stories

The weekend went by and now it was Sunday evening. I was currently sitting up in bed reading one of my favourite books; The Hunger Games. I can't count how many times I've read it. I was so indulged in the book, that I hadn't heard the soft tap on my window at first. When I hear the second tap, I put the book down and listen. After a while, I hear it again. Yep, I definitely wasn't imagining things. I rest the book on my bedside table and got off the bed. I went over to my window and open the curtains. I slide the window pane up and look out. Tyler was sitting on his window sill, looking as comfortable as ever. He had a few pebbles in his hands.

I went to take a shower after dinner. It was then that I suddenly saw a weird palm print on the glass window. Someone must have left that palm print behind with their soapy hand while taking a shower. The print was quite faint and white against the shiny glass on the window. It was obviously a woman's handprint, and it wasn't mine. My hand was a little bigger than this. So I couldn't have been the one who put it there. It couldn't have been my daughter, Bella Quinton, either. She had tiny hands and wasn't even tall enough to reach that spot yet. Also, it definitely did not belong to my husband, Rory Quinton.

Locals must use this as some sort of party spot. Gross, but thankfully, no murder scenes or visible animals waiting to attack me. I probably shouldn't want to see more because tiny goosebumps are popping up and down my arms, but the need to keep going is starting to overwhelm me. Trying to stall for a few more seconds, I stand back and look up. The window, which is almost as tall as me, has leftover pieces of glass piling round the edges. Walking through will be the easy part. Once I'm in, there's no telling what or who could be inside.

It’s rolling toward the other side of the street. In the direction of the bookstore. “Fuck!” is all I have time to hiss before a loud explosion momentarily blinds and deafens me. The entire front window of the bookstore shatters, and the books on display instantly catch on fire. In just one second, the glass transforms into a curtain of flames preventing me from seeing what’s happening inside. I can’t see the girl anymore. Was she hit? Is she okay? Is she…. I can’t finish the sentence in my head. The idea of it makes me sick to my stomach.

The monster who took everything from me. I turn toward the window, my only connection to the outside world. The moonlight spills across the floor, casting eerie shadows that stretch toward me like ghostly fingers. The night is alive with the sounds of the forest—crickets chirping, the distant howl of a wolf, the rustling of leaves in the wind. The wind. My pulse quickens. If I can feel the wind, that means this window isn’t sealed shut. Moving quickly, I cross the room and press my hands against the wooden frame. The glass is old, the wood slightly warped. If I apply enough force—

Why add more? Stepping sideways to the window, I swing the lamp. And just like I thought, my hand goes through the glass with the lamp. Glass glitters as it falls to the ground below my window, but I can’t hear the sound over my own heartbeat freaking the fuck out. I step to the window and pull in a few lungfuls of clean, pure air. It’s with my head mostly out of the window that I hear the sounds of sirens coming towards the house and I know that help is on the way.

She knocks on the door, but there's no answer. Rita decides to investigate further. She peers through the window, and sees that there's a book lying open on the floor. It's an old book with yellowed pages and a crumbling spine. The pages are fluttering in the breeze, as if someone had just put it down and walked away. Rita feels a chill run down her spine.

I tucked my diary back into my laptop case and pulled out a book to read. The next thing I knew, I was being woken up by a loud pounding on my window. “Get out! Your car is about to go out into the lake!” How did he find me?

I didn't know what it was but the way the person was reading the book seemed important. Suddenly the woman looked at me but she was not actually looking at me.She was looking through me at what was behind me.Her face was blurry. I looked over my shoulder and saw the door of the room was open. The woman walked through me. I looked down at myself then back at the door . The woman was not there anymore. I went out of the room. Outside there was a vese shattered on the floor and the stool was laying on the floor. No one was there on that floor.

I breathe out, pulling myself out of my trance. “I don’t know Damien; I was hearing my name,” I said. He sighed. “We have to be careful in the library. It may be enticing, but it’s dangerous, so we will look for the book together. We can take our time,” he said. I looked out the window, and I don’t know, but I feel something is there. You may be wondering, Why was I scared of falling through the window? Well, this is no ordinary window. It is clouded with clouds, and I feel like if I fall through, I am going to fall to my death because I don’t know where it leads.