Your Narrator Novels & Stories

Not just the natural shift of old wood, but a subtle, responsive tilt—like the whole structure had heard my thoughts and adjusted under me, testing my balance. The title slotted into place next to Key Author in my mind with a click that felt too loud. Storyteller. Not player. Not victim. Not even just writer. Something in between. Something it could… collaborate with. The voice buzzed, amused. \[HOW WILL YOU END THIS ONE?\] The fog around us swirled, the boardwalk under our feet shifting almost imperceptibly again, a long, slow roll as if the whole structure floated on something vast and restless that had just turned over.

I whispered, unsure if I meant him or me. He smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "We all are." Behind us, a branch snapped. We both turned. Nathan stood at the edge of the trees, arms crossed, face unreadable. He didn’t say anything. Neither of us did. The moment passed. We packed the meat and made our way back, but I couldn’t shake the chill. NARRATOR'S POV

I sit between them, hands wrapped around a mug I forgot to fill. “So,” I say, because someone has to. “Someone want to explain why it feels like I walked into the middle of a story I’m not supposed to know yet?” Matteo’s mouth quirks, faintly. “That sounds about right.” Ezra shoots him a look. “Be careful.” “With what?” Matteo asks. “The truth?” “With him.” I blink. “I’m right here.” Matteo nods. “I know.” He turns to me. “I’m Matteo.”

type cave internal an Announcer, it seems for you. I didnt choose a relaxation stop. No, however you wanted one. Announcers can pick out up on that. Also, I was once right here helping out, wanting it on your behalf. The little gargoyle shrugged, and Lawrence heard a sound like boulders knocking against every other. The inner of an Announcer isnt wherever at all. Its a neverwhere, the darkish echo solid via something in the past. Each one is different, adapting to the wishes of its travelers, so lengthy as theyre inside.

KILL ALL OF THEM. . . I heard a strange and dangerous voice. I looked around to check who said those words, but I found none. . "Anybody here?", I checked, but I didn't hear that voice again. I shrugged my shoulder, assuming it my imagination, but I had no idea that someone has been awaked from his deep slumber. . . . #TBC . . Author Note: Dear Reader, These types of stories are not my things. I am just trying my best. Do drop your reviews and let me know about your experience with this story until now. Thank you.

My stomach was hurting as a result of the anxiousness. Please don't take too long to respond. "Hurry—hurry," I said under my breath repeatedly. As the minutes and hours ticked past, there was nothing to report. As I gently opened my eyes, I took a few deep breathes in and out. The intensity of his attention as it was fixed on me was palpable as he stood there. "Can you explain me what's going on?" says the narrator. My voice was trembling as I demanded. I stood up and tapped the soles of my feet together.

That is why I call myself the Water Witch. "That doesn't feel like the whole story," I say grumpily. 'That's because it isn't,' the voice chuckles in my mind. 'But I don't think you are ready for the rest of the story.' "You are just like everyone else," I sigh. "Who is just like everyone else?" A voice comes from behind me.

Deliberate. And when I spoke My voice wasn’t right. “It’s fascinating,” I said softly. A chill ran through the clearing. Because it wasn’t just my voice. It was layered. Mine… And hers. Together. Nathan’s face drained of color. “No…” he whispered. I looked at him. Tilted my head. “You’re still alive,” I said, almost curiously. Like I was observing him. Not feeling him. My chest tightened faintly. Somewhere deep inside

After my narration of the past, we were left with silence. I stopped walking when a very cold breeze hit me, wind that seemed to be carrying needles that were piercing me. "You are a great storyteller." Alo stopped walking to find the source of that voice. He is in turn. "huh?" I replied confused. "Hey, Amara. Are you standing there?" I shook my head. "You start walking, I'll be right behind you."

A moment later, a logo popped up, along with the words “The Island.” A British male voice started speaking, but the camera didn’t show the narrator. Instead, it showed scenes that looked like something out of a hunting show to start with. As I listened to the narrator recapping the last episode, one of the images featured a slightly overweight man grappling with a shorter black woman. He held her down, forcing her onto all fours before climbing on top of her.