Under The Oak Novel Novels & Stories

"I have my eyes on you" I scoffed. What is it with this witch? Her eyes on me? I can't believe her gut. But then again, what does Jo's mean. "I know what happens beneath The Oak." The compound was popularly known as The Oak. We have the Lady of the oak who was Sumaya, as well as the princes of the Oak. The servants and the slaves of the Oak who were also known as the Oak's commodity. But how could anyone claim to know what happens beneath The Oak? It sounds absurd. Especially the fact that their couldn't be anything beneath the plantation or the numerous chambers.

Robert replied. The high beams cut through the dust on the road. Kat could see the drive was lined with thick trees. “It is going to be impossible to find Jude in here if he wonders off.” She glanced worried at Robert and back at the barbequed covered boy. “Don’t worry babe. There’s a gate around the property itself.” He rubbed her shoulder. “Well this isn’t creepy or anything.” Ray snarked. “Its only creepy because its dark RayRay. Things always look different in the dark. It’s just new, new always feels uncertain, until it’s not new anymore.” Kat smiled back at Ray through the rear view.

Amelia's POV As I made my way through the forest, the familiar sight of the towering oak tree greeted me like an old friend. Its gnarled branches reached out to me, casting dappled shadows upon the forest floor as if beckoning me closer. With each step, the soft crunch of leaves beneath my feet echoed through the tranquil air, a comforting melody that soothed my restless soul. The canopy above filtered the sunlight into a dappled mosaic of light and shadow, casting a sense of enchantment over the secluded grove where the ancient oak stood sentinel.

Nova smiled. “The Cassie & Damon Legacy Sanctuary.” After the unveiling, the crowd lit candles, one by one, and circled the oak tree like they had for generations. The tree glowed, the roots bathed in gold, the wind wrapping itself around old names and new stories. Grace whispered into the air: “Still us. Always.” Late into the night, Nova sat at the base of the oak tree alone, journal in her lap. She wrote: Tonight, I saw the fire come home.

[So as I was saying, those oak trees were capable of predicting the future. Nero gave his master a side glance to check if she had any plans to interrupt him again. It was only when he confirmed that Audrey was already behaving like a good child, did he went on telling his story again. By that time, only the sound of Nero' soft meowing, as well as the sound made by the turning of the pages of the book, could be heard in the library. "MEOW... MEOW... MEOW... MEOW.." [One day, one of the talking oak trees saw that one from my race, the antediluvian cats, will going to bring utter distraction to the world by releasing all the creatures of the dark from their restriction.]

“The tree stands as a human being, in other words, it explains the inner self of a person, the part which wants to remain hidden. You must have noticed the strong branches and the frail barks in the body. It means the strong branches are our outer self, that we use in our every day to day lives, to show others. But the barks, they are frail and rotting away, because of all the effort it goes through to hold the branches ahead. We never know, but the fake self that we display to the outside world, often ruins who we are in the inside, so that’s what this means. And the leaves? They just play the part to make it look more triggering.” I nod and turn pages after page. Half the book is taken ov

she began, her voice soft as she closed her eyes briefly, taking a deep breath. “We’ve gone over the book hoping for a clue about the oak tree, but there wasn’t anything,” I explained, my frustration evident in my tone. “That’s because we hid it, because we couldn’t trust the Werewolves,” Naomi said, her eyes narrowing as she shot a glare at Bas. “The Werewolves always believed they were immortal, the greatest and most powerful creatures on Earth. But one day, the witches found the oak tree—a loophole given by the universe. When the Werewolves found out, they saw us as a threat, killing every witch they knew and destroying all the oak trees. But there was one. So my ancestors created this bo

About the oak tree in August and the specific quality of the afternoon light coming through the full canopy and the way it falls on the sidewalk below in broken pieces, all warmth and abundance, the tree is at its most generous, giving everything it has. I pick up my charcoal from the cup on the counter. Open my sketchbook. Draw while he talks. The oak tree in August afternoon light, seen through Edmund's eyes on a porch in the Tremé, was rendered in my hand in a penthouse in Manhattan. Three times removed from the original. Still true. We tell our fathers on the same day, not together, but separately. But the same day, which feels right, both of them learn on the same Thursday that somethin

"You want me too, don't you? This afternoon, when you caught me watching—what were you doing with your hand under that desk?" She flashed that wicked grin again, her perfume intoxicating. I couldn't exactly tell her I'd been playing with her daughter. So I played along. "Rough day. I just... let off some steam looking at you." She laughed, low and throaty. "Oh yeah? Well, now I'm right here in your arms. Don't you want to really let off some steam?" She peeled off my shirt, revealing my chest. That's when I saw it. Through the crack in the doorway, Jean was hiding behind the door, watching us. Her hand was moving between her legs.

The Phoenix Oak Tree was a huge oak tree at the end of our village but it was covered in briars and ferns and bushes. No one would think someone lived there or it was even habitable. But inside was a portal basically the Phoenix had her own world in that tree but she could close it or open with one of her feathers . I hummed a calling we used for her it was a simple tune but Celtic but the words were always a warning sometimes you venture away from your path but there’s always a match made for you