Treading Water Book Novels & Stories

I opened the water bottle, the small pop of the lid a deafening sound in the silence. He didn't answer. He just moved directly to the drawer, his movements purposeful and swift. My breath hitched in my throat. This was it. The moment of truth. My heart was pounding so heavily I was sure he could hear it. I tried to tap his arm, to distract him, to say something, anything, but as my fingers were about to touch his skin, he pulled out a book, a small, worn-out storybook with a blue cover that I have seen. The title, in gold letters, read "The Happily Ever After."

I go back up to surface, gasping for air. I go back down. I try again. This time I get two fingers under the loop and pull it toward my heel, trying to slide it off. It moves a fraction and then catches on the bone of my ankle, hitting it with pain. I come back up, and the water current is even heavier. Treading the water with one leg requires more effort than it should and my arms are already working harder than I want them to. I look toward the shore, and realise it’s too far to swim.

Jacob went running for the water, his footfalls echoing through the air in a deliberate way that made him sound as if he were in a hurry against time. The echo of his footfalls lasted only a moment like he was fading away and leaving me alone in the stillness with the dead man. Then, he was back, footsteps loud, as if coming home from a long trip. He was bringing a bucket of water wobbly and sloshing wildly against the sides, as if eager to make an escape. Once Jacob poured the water on him, it cascaded over him the way a tiny waterfall would do. ************ Waking up from the deep slumber that water had evoked in him, it seemed as though a million splashes of water, like tiny fingers, col

Tessa’s POV I could hear Pedro’s voice from a distance, amid this surrounding of rumbling waters, I could barely make out his words over the wind and the violent waves. The water was cold, and each wave threatened to pull me under, but I welcomed it. And as much as I welcomed it, I unconsciously fought desperately against the current, my arms swinging wildly, but despair had settled in, and a part of me—broken, exhausted—whispered that it might just be better to let go.

“So, what do we do here?” “I’m only here to guide you.” “Guide me to where?” “To find yourself.” “What?” Confused, I stopped walking; the water wobbled beneath our feet. I shrieked, holding tight to Elijah as the water rose. “What… what’s going on?!” Beside me, the water had already reached Elijah’s thighs, and I realized that the water was not rising, but we were shrinking. “Elijah!” Panicking, I moved my hands, wiggled and kicked my feet, hoping to stay afloat, but felt nothing beneath the water. The more I struggled and held onto Elijah, the faster the water engulfed us.

Zane and I tucked the girls in not longer after that, and I read from what was now officially the girls’ second-favorite book. With a smile, I opened the book, admiring the illustrations Grace and Chloe had already seen and cooed over. “Far out in the ocean, where the water is as blue as the prettiest cornflower and as clear as crystal, it is very, very deep; so deep, indeed, that no cable could sound it, and many church steeples, piled one upon another, would not reach from the ground beneath to the surface of the water above. There dwell the Sea King and his subjects.

Now, it was my sanctuary, a place where I could practice in peace. I set the bucket and book down, the cool night breeze brushing against my skin. Opening the book, I traced the ancient symbols and began to focus. My hand hovered over the bucket as I willed the water to move. At first, nothing happened. Then, slowly, a ripple formed. Encouraged, I concentrated harder, and the water began to rise, forming an unsteady wave. But just as I felt a surge of triumph, a deep, cold voice cut through the night.

~CURSED OR CHOSEN~ I gather what little courage I have left. For whatever it’s worth. I hold my breath and lift one foot over the edge of the stone tub, bracing myself for agony—for burning, for rejection, for the sacred water to expose me as a fraud. My foot slips beneath the surface. It feels cool. The tension in my lungs releases in a shaky breath. Slowly, carefully, I bring my second foot in. The moment both feet submerge, something surges through me.

The sound of water gently lapping against the shelves provided a soothing ambiance, creating a serene atmosphere that encouraged deep contemplation and study. As they ventured deeper into the library, Tritan, Finrir, Nerissa, Madissa, Bryan, and Joe found themselves surrounded by rows upon rows of books. The sheer volume of knowledge contained within those pages was awe-inspiring. Each book seemed to hold the answers to countless mysteries, waiting to be discovered by those who sought enlightenment.

The water is up to the king’s neck, a little bit lower on the prince who is taller than his father. “Nylion! I command you to stop this!” the king orders. “I don’t take orders from you,” he snarls. I hear the door blast apart behind me, but my tidal wave washes the unsuspecting elves out before rebuilding into another wave barrier. As the water makes its way over the king’s mouth, the prince begins struggling even harder, screaming for me to stop. I can’t. My rider has spoken. The queen screams, rushing toward her mate. “Don’t let her drown herself!” Nylion commands.