Fiction Books

A GREAT STREAK OF LUCK “Anybody home?” “Sure, walk right in, Toby. My latch-string is always out to my chums. I see you managed to pick up Steve on the way across; but I wager you had really to pry him loose from that dandy new volume on travel he was telling me about, because he’s such a bookworm.” The two boys who hastened to accept this warm invitation, and enter Jack Winters’ snug... more...

THE LITTLE DOG-ANGEL High up in the courts of Heaven to-dayA little dog-angel waits,With the other angels he will not play,But he sits alone at the gates;"For I know that my master will come," says he:"And when he comes, he will call for me." He sees the spirits that pass him byAs they hasten towards the throne,And he watches them with a wistful eyeAs he sits at the gates alone;"But... more...

CHAPTER I. THE HOUSE PARTY The piers of the main entrance of Chadlands were of red brick, and upon each reposed a mighty sphere of grey granite. Behind them stretched away the park, where forest trees, nearly shorn of their leaves at the edge of winter, still answered the setting sun with fires of thinning foliage. They sank away through stretches of brake fern, and already amid their trunks arose a... more...

Habakkuk 1:1 The oracle which Habakkuk the prophet saw. 1:2 Yahweh, how long will I cry, and you will not hear? I cry out to you "Violence!" and will you not save? 1:3 Why do you show me iniquity, and look at perversity? For destruction and violence are before me. There is strife, and contention rises up. 1:4 Therefore the law is paralyzed, and justice never goes forth; for the wicked surround... more...

PREFACE. In the “Popular Science Monthly” for July, 1886, there was printed a somewhat miscellaneous assortment of customs and superstitions under the title: Animal and Plant Lore of Children. This article was in the main composed of reminiscences of my own childhood spent in Northern Ohio, though two or three friends of New England rearing contributed personal recollections. Seldom is a line cast... more...

CHAPTER I James Crawshay, Englishman of the type usually described in transatlantic circles as "some Britisher," lolled apparently at his ease upon the couch of the too-resplendent sitting room in the Hotel Magnificent, Chicago. Hobson, his American fellow traveler, on the other hand, betrayed his anxiety by his nervous pacing up and down the apartment. Both men bore traces in their appearance... more...

CHAPTER I. THE SICK MAN. "HEART all right," said the doctor. "Lungs all right. No organic disease that I can discover. Philip Lefrank, don't alarm yourself. You are not going to die yet. The disease you are suffering from is—overwork. The remedy in your case is—rest." So the doctor spoke, in my chambers in the Temple (London); having been sent for to see me about half an... more...

John Rush smoothed the covers over his wife, tucking them in where her restless moving had pulled them away from the mattress. The twins moved beside him, their smooth hands following his in the task, their blind eyes intent on nothingness. "Thank you," he said softly to them, knowing they could not hear him. But it made him feel better to talk. His wife, Mary, was quiet. Her breathing was... more...

Veda didn't expect Salinger to fall for her so completely that he was willing to dive into an adventure with needles, crystal balls, spell books, magic circles, and the delicate curtain that separates this world from the next.   This novel was written by Stephanie Van Orman without the assistance of AI. The cover was generated with AI to keep costs down.

There was no sense to the note. There was no sense to anything that Vic Butler did, for that matter. Where he hid away his vast scientific knowledge in that rattle-brained, red-haired head of his has always been a mystery to me. The note read: Dear Pete: If you get this, I’m in a jam that promises some action. Drive out, if plane-peddling is palling on you, and bust into the lab. I’m leaving... more...