Walking Disaster Book Novels & Stories

"How did this even happen?" "You see, there's a bridge in the way to the pack warrior residence," she said then I nodded. "I quickly reached the house, I found the book despite the very uncooperative people there and I was coming back as soon as possible! But... it was so tempting to walk over the railing of the bridge I couldn't help myself and when I started walking over it, I lost my balance and fell and then I got wet. But you can still read the book! You only have to dry it! Maybe with a drier, if you have a drier, or you can ask someone else to—" "Hazel," my voice cuts through her rant and animated gestures.

Even from high above the surface, Below was not the same land Bjorn remembered. In many areas, surface quakes gutted the ground as trees burned even while still standing. In one direction, torrents of wind-driven rain blinded the eyes, and from a different view, ice and snow ravaged the hillsides. Lakes and rivers overflowed their banks. Valleys flooded. And throughout the air, a wave of flaming, foul-smelling muck twisted in, around, and under, advancing a destructive ecological change. All across the open areas, worms surfaced by the tens and tens of thousands, all squirming amid yellow-tinted ooze and many spewing the seepage twenty to thirty feet from the core of each grouping. A complet

My whole being trembled violently as the pressure building within me promised to extinguish everything. Zayn Dawson What use was having a $750k yacht when it was somewhere at the bottom of the ocean? Whose bright idea was to have a 3 days boat cruise on my luxury yacht to celebrate my birthday? I tried to remember but everything was still fuzzy. The only thing that was sure to me was the shipwreck last night and how I had somehow miraculously found myself on this island. It looked deserted. Small waves washed shells and debris to the pale sand. Fuck! This was just what I needed. Another fucking disaster.

Books that offered shelter to those still lost in the storm. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the sweet air of that late afternoon, feeling the warmth of Luka, the solidity of Elias, and the heartbeat of Zion against her back. She thought of the seventeen-year-old girl who had walked into that bookstore on a rainy afternoon, seeking refuge in someone else’s pages because she still didn’t know that one day she would have her own to offer. She thought of the broken woman she had been, of the painful but necessary crossing, of the moments when she had almost given up.

Every decision. Every sacrifice. Every act of courage. Each became its own complete story. The First Reader watched in silence. "So this..." "...is where stories are truly born." The little girl shook her head. "No." "They're born in hearts." "This is only where they're remembered." Suddenly... the entire library shook. One shelf, far in the distance, collapsed with a deafening crash. Then another. A deep crack spread across the marble floor. The White Book snapped shut. For the first time since Adrian had found it...

Jack Bri and I walk quietly to the parking lot and I notice she stays close beside me, our shoulders brushing occasionally. I follow her towards her car and watch her as she stops next to it and turns to look at me. "Do you need to go home and get some things?" I ask her. She shakes her head and pops her trunk, pulling out an overnight bag. "I started reading up on ways to deal with this kind of situation. One thing that women who went through what I am said over and over was to have a bug out bag." she explains.

“Vampire, doll face ,bang ,aww ,witch ,attack ,fire , burning, shadow wolf ,more aww , witch tears, vampire wolf ,more ouch ,book ,run ,” I tried narrating the short summary of what I could make sense of from our experience but Freya did not seem to get what I was trying to explain and neither did I. “Ummm ok then, we can talk about this later. Let’s just get out of here,” The traumatized burn victim we saved earlier suddenly turned around and her eyes zeroed in on the book in my hand. For a moment I thought maybe what I was seeing in her eyes was recognition and a trauma response from everything she went through in the bus.

With broken bones, I slowly climbed down the van and tried to stand but not being able to due to the pain I was pulled harshly by a chain that was wrapped around my ankle and hand making me stand and walk rather painfully. Wanting to know where I was, I opened my half-hooded eyes and checked my surroundings or where my next destination was. Looking around I was confused for a bit but the moment I realized where I was I understood that my fate had been sealed and my life will never be the same again. And I also knew this was only the beginning of my ill fate and misery.

It was clear the damage was caused by an attack and not decay of age. My chest sank deeper recalling the witch I met at the outskirts saying if my mother chose to stay alive they might have won the war. I pressed forward anyway, weaving through collapsed beams and scattered stones until something caught my eye, a small book half-buried in dirt, its leather cover cracked, pages swollen. I flipped it open and the first words nearly stopped my breath. “I couldn't go through with the abortion,” the rest of the words faded and I flipped trying to make sense of the first words I read.

She refused to look like the victim of her own story. He was gone, yes. But 'gone' didn't have to be permanent. 'Gone' was just a plot point she hadn't resolved yet. … Nora was still thinking of how to get her life back in control as she walked behind the waiter, leading her to Camila’s table in the back of the restaurant. Despite her elaborate disguise and the distance, Camila still recognized her and sent an enthusiastic wave their way. “Hi!” Camila gave her a fierce hug and kiss on the cheek.