Novel & Cerita Through My Window Book

Not like this. Not with— I reached the back corner, and saw it. One window with the curtains wide open. It was our bedroom window and although the glass was locked shut, I could see through it and probably call someone that might be passing. Light spilled outward, cutting through the rain as I stepped closer and looked gazed insides I was made to freeze. At first, I didn’t understand what I was staring at as I saw movement but then I blinked and it became clear with the sharp sting in my chest.

Emma's POV The words hang in the grey air between us, cold and sharp. The nursery window. My hand does not shake. I do not let it. But the stone pavement beneath my boots feels suddenly unstable, as if the ground itself is shifting. In my mind, I see the small white frame of the window at the end of the hall... the one that looks out over the quiet courtyard... the one where Willa stands in her pajamas to watch the rain. I see a hand reaching through the glass.

As Dahlia storms into the room, she screams, “How the hell have you been talking to people?” I laugh, “Nobody has been here. I talk to people in my sleep. Why?” She looks out the window and stops in her tracks. She is captivated by whatever memory she is seeing now. I look at all my siblings, and they are slightly smiling at me, knowing what the window is doing. I sit in my spot, on the floor, and wait as she continues looking out that window. Taylor, who is seated on the floor right next to the window, is watching Dahlia intently. Taylor looks at me, holds a finger to her eye and traces a line down her cheek to tell me that she is crying. I nod in understanding.

Julia’s POV Reaching my room, I leaned against the door, exhaling sharply as I pressed my temples. I entered and sank onto my bed. And for a moment, I let myself breathe. But then, a faint tink sound came from the window as I paused, my head snapping toward the window. Another tink came again, sharper this time, like a pebble striking the glass window. My pulse quickened as I stood, curiosity overriding my exhaustion. I approached the window, the curtains swaying slightly in the night breeze as I peered out into the darkness outside to see who was throwing little bricks towards my window.

(Calla's POV) The air within the cabin had been too still, too parched. I still sat with my back against the window seat with the same book that I couldn't understand all afternoon, following the lines of the page where it was thinning out and cracking into fragments in my mind as it whirled round and round.

My parents are practical people, and my siblings would only make a joke of it. I set my glass on my nightstand and then lay across my bed on my back. Although no candle is burning, there's a perpetual smell in the air — maple, pumpkin, sandalwood — melted into the walls to soothe me but now burning my nose. I lift to open the window but pause. An open window is a way in, a crack for the shadow to pour through. I made it into the house okay, but what if it's still out in the woods? Who's to say the beast disappears in the daylight?

In transit to the houses and flats and apartments of people who would read it in whatever time and light and configuration they read in. Three hundred and forty-two pages of honest reckoning. Her name on the cover. In the world. She stood at the window for a long time. Then Mae appeared in the kitchen doorway in the specific state of someone who had woken up early specifically for this morning. “It’s today,” Mae said. “It’s today,” Anya said. Mae came and stood beside her at the window. The two of them looking out at the early spring morning. “Are you scared?” Mae said.

But I could force the window open. One breath of air at a time.

I had no idea I could get this happy with having a proper bathroom. My eyes went to the drawn curtains, a window... I placed my feet on the ground and stood up. I half ran and half tripped to the curtain and flung them open. It was a glass window and behind it, I could see bricks. All the locks on the window were melted so that no one could pick them and if that wasn't enough, the brick was there to take all the hope away.

The challenge was finding the Book of the Moon, an artefact I had never seen and wasn’t even sure existed. Determination fuelled my steps as I crept through the underbrush, making my way to the side of the mansion. Climbing the trellis to my bedroom window felt like second nature, my muscles remembering the movements from countless escape attempts during my younger years. I reached the window, pushed it open, and slipped inside, landing softly on the carpeted floor.