#novels — Public Fediverse posts
Live and recent posts from across the Fediverse tagged #novels, aggregated by home.social.
-
Edwidge Danticat on Haitian Americans in a Time of Peril
-
Edwidge Danticat on Haitian Americans in a Time of Peril
-
Edwidge Danticat on Haitian Americans in a Time of Peril
-
Edwidge Danticat on Haitian Americans in a Time of Peril
-
Edwidge Danticat on Haitian Americans in a Time of Peril
-
Well that is it. This is the last entry/segment/piece of Beware the Ills. Thank you everyone who has seen this through till the end. It meant a lot to me. It was my first and favorite book. What a story.
#writing #reading #fiction #books #novels #horror #fantasy #darkfantasy #steampunk
https://patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com/2026/09/04/beware-the-ills-part-59/
-
Well that is it. This is the last entry/segment/piece of Beware the Ills. Thank you everyone who has seen this through till the end. It meant a lot to me. It was my first and favorite book. What a story.
#writing #reading #fiction #books #novels #horror #fantasy #darkfantasy #steampunk
https://patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com/2026/09/04/beware-the-ills-part-59/
-
Well that is it. This is the last entry/segment/piece of Beware the Ills. Thank you everyone who has seen this through till the end. It meant a lot to me. It was my first and favorite book. What a story.
#writing #reading #fiction #books #novels #horror #fantasy #darkfantasy #steampunk
https://patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com/2026/09/04/beware-the-ills-part-59/
-
Well that is it. This is the last entry/segment/piece of Beware the Ills. Thank you everyone who has seen this through till the end. It meant a lot to me. It was my first and favorite book. What a story.
#writing #reading #fiction #books #novels #horror #fantasy #darkfantasy #steampunk
https://patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com/2026/09/04/beware-the-ills-part-59/
-
Well that is it. This is the last entry/segment/piece of Beware the Ills. Thank you everyone who has seen this through till the end. It meant a lot to me. It was my first and favorite book. What a story.
#writing #reading #fiction #books #novels #horror #fantasy #darkfantasy #steampunk
https://patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com/2026/09/04/beware-the-ills-part-59/
-
Beware the Ills: Part 59
I can feel the opening, a coolness spreading into my abdomen. It was in his sleeve. I have been stabbed, a dagger, rusty and covered with poison. It belonged to them, his people from long ago.
He must’ve dug it up here in the graveyard one day.
I’m on one knee. The poison’s working already. I need to leave here.
Of all places, I can’t die here.
She’s running over to me. She’s safe. She stops to look at Haukter and then back at me. She reaches for his hood, and mangled fur.
“Don’t touch him,” I manage to whisper. It’ll be hard to speak.
She looks at me with a strange mixture of surprise.
“I don’t want to know how he looks. Just leave him alone.”
More snow falling, the wind whirls quietly. She steps away from him and approaches me. I can hear the waves, I swear it.
“Please, please, help me get to the shore.”
I don’t think I’ll be able to talk anymore.
I lean on her as we walk. She’s strong and gentle against my shaky feet. I use every bit of strength to keep the blackness of the poison away. She’s walking and pulling me as fast as she can.
Soon we’re on the hills next to the shore. Our walk through the forest was a blur, a blood induced haze. I have lost my concept of time.
But I can still hear the lovely waves roaring.
She walks me to the edge of the forest where the ground slants down onto the white sand. She stops there, staring at the lapping black waves. She helps me sit down against a tree above the sand. Snow falls on us as we rest against its grey trunk. The evening sun has started to vanish above the lines of sea-clouds.
“Bring me to the water please?” I ask feebly. It’s rather embarrassing, my weakness. I’m not in a position for vanity. I will never again be in the position for it. She kneels down beside me and takes the black glove off my right hand. There’s blood on it, it’s soaked through. She holds my hand with a gentle, trembling softness. The invaders leftover ships bob on the black water like memories. She looks out at the shore and dark sea with dreaming eyes.
“No, you can’t get your way,” she says. She smiles behind her lips. I hope she can return safely.
I smile truthfully, and happily. I didn’t expect this kindness of not being alone. More blood-haze and faraway thoughts fill my inner eyes. Memories of dying faces, the Shingles, and those tortured Ills brush by me like phantoms. My heart feels heavy for them, and my mind can’t focus on anything, just all matters of past and present. I think of myself, and all my actions, and it’s as if two minds were within me. The one killing in the open and the other deep within me hoping and praying.
I would change.
Snow is falling. The waves roll back and forth against the sand endlessly.
The water looks so cold, so black, and so limitless.
It is beautiful.
#books #darkfantasy #fantasy #fiction #horror #novels #reading #steampunk #writing -
Beware the Ills: Part 59
I can feel the opening, a coolness spreading into my abdomen. It was in his sleeve. I have been stabbed, a dagger, rusty and covered with poison. It belonged to them, his people from long ago.
He must’ve dug it up here in the graveyard one day.
I’m on one knee. The poison’s working already. I need to leave here.
Of all places, I can’t die here.
She’s running over to me. She’s safe. She stops to look at Haukter and then back at me. She reaches for his hood, and mangled fur.
“Don’t touch him,” I manage to whisper. It’ll be hard to speak.
She looks at me with a strange mixture of surprise.
“I don’t want to know how he looks. Just leave him alone.”
More snow falling, the wind whirls quietly. She steps away from him and approaches me. I can hear the waves, I swear it.
“Please, please, help me get to the shore.”
I don’t think I’ll be able to talk anymore.
I lean on her as we walk. She’s strong and gentle against my shaky feet. I use every bit of strength to keep the blackness of the poison away. She’s walking and pulling me as fast as she can.
Soon we’re on the hills next to the shore. Our walk through the forest was a blur, a blood induced haze. I have lost my concept of time.
But I can still hear the lovely waves roaring.
She walks me to the edge of the forest where the ground slants down onto the white sand. She stops there, staring at the lapping black waves. She helps me sit down against a tree above the sand. Snow falls on us as we rest against its grey trunk. The evening sun has started to vanish above the lines of sea-clouds.
“Bring me to the water please?” I ask feebly. It’s rather embarrassing, my weakness. I’m not in a position for vanity. I will never again be in the position for it. She kneels down beside me and takes the black glove off my right hand. There’s blood on it, it’s soaked through. She holds my hand with a gentle, trembling softness. The invaders leftover ships bob on the black water like memories. She looks out at the shore and dark sea with dreaming eyes.
“No, you can’t get your way,” she says. She smiles behind her lips. I hope she can return safely.
I smile truthfully, and happily. I didn’t expect this kindness of not being alone. More blood-haze and faraway thoughts fill my inner eyes. Memories of dying faces, the Shingles, and those tortured Ills brush by me like phantoms. My heart feels heavy for them, and my mind can’t focus on anything, just all matters of past and present. I think of myself, and all my actions, and it’s as if two minds were within me. The one killing in the open and the other deep within me hoping and praying.
I would change.
Snow is falling. The waves roll back and forth against the sand endlessly.
The water looks so cold, so black, and so limitless.
It is beautiful.
#books #darkfantasy #fantasy #fiction #horror #novels #reading #steampunk #writing -
Beware the Ills: Part 59
I can feel the opening, a coolness spreading into my abdomen. It was in his sleeve. I have been stabbed, a dagger, rusty and covered with poison. It belonged to them, his people from long ago.
He must’ve dug it up here in the graveyard one day.
I’m on one knee. The poison’s working already. I need to leave here.
Of all places, I can’t die here.
She’s running over to me. She’s safe. She stops to look at Haukter and then back at me. She reaches for his hood, and mangled fur.
“Don’t touch him,” I manage to whisper. It’ll be hard to speak.
She looks at me with a strange mixture of surprise.
“I don’t want to know how he looks. Just leave him alone.”
More snow falling, the wind whirls quietly. She steps away from him and approaches me. I can hear the waves, I swear it.
“Please, please, help me get to the shore.”
I don’t think I’ll be able to talk anymore.
I lean on her as we walk. She’s strong and gentle against my shaky feet. I use every bit of strength to keep the blackness of the poison away. She’s walking and pulling me as fast as she can.
Soon we’re on the hills next to the shore. Our walk through the forest was a blur, a blood induced haze. I have lost my concept of time.
But I can still hear the lovely waves roaring.
She walks me to the edge of the forest where the ground slants down onto the white sand. She stops there, staring at the lapping black waves. She helps me sit down against a tree above the sand. Snow falls on us as we rest against its grey trunk. The evening sun has started to vanish above the lines of sea-clouds.
“Bring me to the water please?” I ask feebly. It’s rather embarrassing, my weakness. I’m not in a position for vanity. I will never again be in the position for it. She kneels down beside me and takes the black glove off my right hand. There’s blood on it, it’s soaked through. She holds my hand with a gentle, trembling softness. The invaders leftover ships bob on the black water like memories. She looks out at the shore and dark sea with dreaming eyes.
“No, you can’t get your way,” she says. She smiles behind her lips. I hope she can return safely.
I smile truthfully, and happily. I didn’t expect this kindness of not being alone. More blood-haze and faraway thoughts fill my inner eyes. Memories of dying faces, the Shingles, and those tortured Ills brush by me like phantoms. My heart feels heavy for them, and my mind can’t focus on anything, just all matters of past and present. I think of myself, and all my actions, and it’s as if two minds were within me. The one killing in the open and the other deep within me hoping and praying.
I would change.
Snow is falling. The waves roll back and forth against the sand endlessly.
The water looks so cold, so black, and so limitless.
It is beautiful.
#books #darkfantasy #fantasy #fiction #horror #novels #reading #steampunk #writing -
Beware the Ills: Part 59
I can feel the opening, a coolness spreading into my abdomen. It was in his sleeve. I have been stabbed, a dagger, rusty and covered with poison. It belonged to them, his people from long ago.
He must’ve dug it up here in the graveyard one day.
I’m on one knee. The poison’s working already. I need to leave here.
Of all places, I can’t die here.
She’s running over to me. She’s safe. She stops to look at Haukter and then back at me. She reaches for his hood, and mangled fur.
“Don’t touch him,” I manage to whisper. It’ll be hard to speak.
She looks at me with a strange mixture of surprise.
“I don’t want to know how he looks. Just leave him alone.”
More snow falling, the wind whirls quietly. She steps away from him and approaches me. I can hear the waves, I swear it.
“Please, please, help me get to the shore.”
I don’t think I’ll be able to talk anymore.
I lean on her as we walk. She’s strong and gentle against my shaky feet. I use every bit of strength to keep the blackness of the poison away. She’s walking and pulling me as fast as she can.
Soon we’re on the hills next to the shore. Our walk through the forest was a blur, a blood induced haze. I have lost my concept of time.
But I can still hear the lovely waves roaring.
She walks me to the edge of the forest where the ground slants down onto the white sand. She stops there, staring at the lapping black waves. She helps me sit down against a tree above the sand. Snow falls on us as we rest against its grey trunk. The evening sun has started to vanish above the lines of sea-clouds.
“Bring me to the water please?” I ask feebly. It’s rather embarrassing, my weakness. I’m not in a position for vanity. I will never again be in the position for it. She kneels down beside me and takes the black glove off my right hand. There’s blood on it, it’s soaked through. She holds my hand with a gentle, trembling softness. The invaders leftover ships bob on the black water like memories. She looks out at the shore and dark sea with dreaming eyes.
“No, you can’t get your way,” she says. She smiles behind her lips. I hope she can return safely.
I smile truthfully, and happily. I didn’t expect this kindness of not being alone. More blood-haze and faraway thoughts fill my inner eyes. Memories of dying faces, the Shingles, and those tortured Ills brush by me like phantoms. My heart feels heavy for them, and my mind can’t focus on anything, just all matters of past and present. I think of myself, and all my actions, and it’s as if two minds were within me. The one killing in the open and the other deep within me hoping and praying.
I would change.
Snow is falling. The waves roll back and forth against the sand endlessly.
The water looks so cold, so black, and so limitless.
It is beautiful.
#books #darkfantasy #fantasy #fiction #horror #novels #reading #steampunk #writing -
Beware the Ills: Part 59
I can feel the opening, a coolness spreading into my abdomen. It was in his sleeve. I have been stabbed, a dagger, rusty and covered with poison. It belonged to them, his people from long ago.
He must’ve dug it up here in the graveyard one day.
I’m on one knee. The poison’s working already. I need to leave here.
Of all places, I can’t die here.
She’s running over to me. She’s safe. She stops to look at Haukter and then back at me. She reaches for his hood, and mangled fur.
“Don’t touch him,” I manage to whisper. It’ll be hard to speak.
She looks at me with a strange mixture of surprise.
“I don’t want to know how he looks. Just leave him alone.”
More snow falling, the wind whirls quietly. She steps away from him and approaches me. I can hear the waves, I swear it.
“Please, please, help me get to the shore.”
I don’t think I’ll be able to talk anymore.
I lean on her as we walk. She’s strong and gentle against my shaky feet. I use every bit of strength to keep the blackness of the poison away. She’s walking and pulling me as fast as she can.
Soon we’re on the hills next to the shore. Our walk through the forest was a blur, a blood induced haze. I have lost my concept of time.
But I can still hear the lovely waves roaring.
She walks me to the edge of the forest where the ground slants down onto the white sand. She stops there, staring at the lapping black waves. She helps me sit down against a tree above the sand. Snow falls on us as we rest against its grey trunk. The evening sun has started to vanish above the lines of sea-clouds.
“Bring me to the water please?” I ask feebly. It’s rather embarrassing, my weakness. I’m not in a position for vanity. I will never again be in the position for it. She kneels down beside me and takes the black glove off my right hand. There’s blood on it, it’s soaked through. She holds my hand with a gentle, trembling softness. The invaders leftover ships bob on the black water like memories. She looks out at the shore and dark sea with dreaming eyes.
“No, you can’t get your way,” she says. She smiles behind her lips. I hope she can return safely.
I smile truthfully, and happily. I didn’t expect this kindness of not being alone. More blood-haze and faraway thoughts fill my inner eyes. Memories of dying faces, the Shingles, and those tortured Ills brush by me like phantoms. My heart feels heavy for them, and my mind can’t focus on anything, just all matters of past and present. I think of myself, and all my actions, and it’s as if two minds were within me. The one killing in the open and the other deep within me hoping and praying.
I would change.
Snow is falling. The waves roll back and forth against the sand endlessly.
The water looks so cold, so black, and so limitless.
It is beautiful.
#fantasy #horror #writing #books #novels #fiction #steampunk #reading #darkfantasy -
GOOSE CREEK HOLLER is featured in the Book Funnel promotion, NOBODY IS INNOCENT. Nothing could be truer in my Appalachian thriller, where even the good guys have to bend the rules and the law to survive. Check out all the other great titles in the promo and then CLICK ON GOOSE CREEK HOLLER to learn more! https://books.bookfunnel.com/nobody-is-innocent/ym4sbqxlru
#books #selfPromo #indieAuthor #indieAuthors #innocent #goosecreekholler #book #indie #mastodon #bookstodon #booksky #rural #ruralnoir #grittyNovels #gritlit #novels #novel #author #authors #reading #readingCommunity #fediverse #thriller #crimeFiction #mastodon #sophiajanehayden #writersCoffeeClub #writer #mysteryNovel #mystery -
I sold a book today!
Thank you to the person who ordered my book from Amazon.
#booksky #books #KU #thriller #suspense #romance #novels #geopolitical #mythological #darkromance #women #contemporary #fiction #fantasy #crime #amazon #sifi #readingcommunity #writingcommunity #author #readers #indie -
The Strange Power of the Dance-Floor Novel
-
Some of Violet Jacob’s works are available to download as free ebooks via @gutenberg_org
4 novels: Flemington, The Sheep-Stealers, Irresolute Catherine, & The Interloper;
2 poetry collections: Bonnie Joann, and Other Poems, & Songs of Angus and More Songs of Angus;
The Golden Heart, & Other Fairy Stories8/8
https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/author/7709
#Scottish #literature #Scots #Scotslanguage #19thCentury #20thcentury #WomenWriters #VioletJacob #novels #poetry #shortstories #shortfiction #fairytales
-
Last day of the month going well
#booksky #books #Kindleunlimited #thriller #suspense #romance #novels #geopolitical #mythological #darkromance #women #contemporary #fiction #fantasy #crime #amazon #sifi #readingcommunity #writingcommunity #author #readers #indie -
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die!
#booksky #books #Kindleunlimited #thriller #suspense #romance #novels #geopolitical #mythological #darkromance #women #contemporary #fiction #fantasy #crime #amazon #sifi #readingcommunity #writingcommunity #author #readers #indie -
The Last Forge of Aetherius a.co/d/0e4VAJWJ
#booksky #books #Kindleunlimited #thriller #suspense #romance #novels #geopolitical #mythological #darkromance #women #contemporary #fiction #fantasy #crime #amazon #sifi #readingcommunity #writingcommunity #author #readers #indie
The Last Forge of Aetherius -
EVERYONE-
I SOLD A BOOK JUST NOW!
BE HAPPY FOR MEEEE 🕺🏽🕺🏽
#booksky #books #Kindleunlimited #thriller #suspense #romance #novels #geopolitical #mythological #darkromance #women #contemporary #fiction #fantasy #crime #amazon #sifi #readingcommunity #writingcommunity #author #readers #indie -
Heretics of Dune https://library.hrmtc.com/2026/08/17/heretics-of-dune/ #book #ClassicLiteratureFiction #DesertsFiction #DeSertsRomansNouvellesEtc #Dune #DuneImaginaryPlace #DuneImaginaryPlaceFiction #DuneLieuImaginaireRomansNouvellesEtc #DuneChronicles #EpicFantasy #fantasy #FantasyFiction #fiction #frankHerbert #Novels #PopularFiction #ProphecyFiction #PropheTieRomansNouvellesEtc #ReligionFiction #ReligionRomansNouvellesEtc #review #romans #ScienceFiction #ScienceFictionShortStories #spaceOpera #SpaceOperas #TPolyphilus -
I’m a novelist — cheering the $2.4M AI book deal that should open everyone’s eyes
The publishing industry is in an uproar this month as agents and editors alike confront a mysterious new…
#NewsBeep #News #US #USA #UnitedStates #UnitedStatesOfAmerica #Artificialintelligence #AI #ArtificialIntelligence #auctions #Book #Books #Novels #opinion #publishing #Scandals #Technology
https://www.newsbeep.com/us/816112/ -
Novel ending 25: From an American novel published in 1986
Photo of the author of this novel
David woke in the morning when the first light came in the window. It was still gray outside and there were different pine trunks than the ones he usually woke to see and a longer gap beyond them toward the sea. His right arm was stiff because he had slept on it. Then, awake, he knew he was in a strange bed and he saw Marita lying sleeping by him. He remembered everything and he looked at her lovingly and covered her fresh brown body with the sheet and then kissed her very lightly again and putting on his dressing gown walked out into the dew-wet early morning carrying the image of how she looked with him to his room.
Notes
This quote is actually not the very ending of the book but the beginning of the last chapter and, in my (im)modest opinion more relevant in closing the novel than the page that follows.
After a break of many years, it occurred to me while looking a the various novels on the shelf in front of me to give it a new shot.Please leave a comment if you think you know who wrote this novel.
#AmericanLiterature #fiction #NovelEndings #novels #Writing -
How Caro Claire Burke Wrote the Biggest Book of the Year
