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Reading books fiction Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself.



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The genre of fiction is interesting to read not only by the process of cognition and the desire to empathize with the fate of the hero, this genre is interesting for the ability to rethink one's own life. Of course the reader may accept the author's point of view or disagree with them, but the reader should understand that the author has done a great job and deserves respect. Take a closer look at genre fiction in all its manifestations in our elibrary.



Read books online » Fiction » Quagmire by Lions Dream In Gold (best non fiction books of all time txt) 📖

Book online «Quagmire by Lions Dream In Gold (best non fiction books of all time txt) 📖». Author Lions Dream In Gold



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Introduction : Opening the Door


There is an inevitability to life. For example it was inevitable that she would wake up that morning to see the sun streaking through her green curtains. It was inevitable that when she walked down the hall from her room she would notice the door. It was also inevitable that upon finding that this door honestly had not been there the previous day, she would take the brass door knob into her hand and turn, swinging the plank of wood to the side and thus spawning the situation we now find ourselves in.

What situation might the bystander ponder? Only the end of our lives as we knew them. Of course, she didn't know that. How could she know? That her one simple act would forever change the future of mankind. After all, all she did was open the door.

Chapter One: Neiva Ross


Neiva dealt out a heavy punch to the thugs face. Crushing the nasal bone and shattering the front part of the zygomatic bone. A wicked smirk curving her lips at his pained grunt, she kept her fist there and ground it into his shattered face. The satisfied gleam in her eyes only growing as tears fell down the meat heads destroyed cheeks. She heard heavy footsteps running towards the vulnerable position she held on the floor and moved to the right. Falling onto her left and side kicking the oncoming man in the groin, using the momentum to push him back, leaving her enough time to swing to her feet as she hammered the back of her left fist into the second gorilla's neck.

Neiva took a step back, surveying the scene with harsh distaste in her eyes. She scoffed at the sight of the three full grown men on the ground, either whimpering in pain or unconscious. "Pathetic," the girls voice rang clear with disgust, a leaders voice. "If you want to attack me you will have to do better than that. Fierce green eyes rolled as she strode to the thug with the injured groin and dropped a business card on his heaving chest. "Tell your coward of a boss that if he wants me gone, he's going to have to do a lot more than sending three of his dumbest monkeys after me." She looked down on his glare unflinchingly and swung her heavy booted foot towards his head. "Adios Loser." Walking away as his head snapped to the side and he, like the others, was oblivious to the world.

Chapter Two: Flea Bags


The stained steel door slid open with a spiteful hiss, the video lock recognizing her face as she barged into the concrete building. A scowl heavy on her face. Two burly sentries nodding to her in respect, her own bobbing once in acknowledgment. She stalked deeper into the scruffy structure, past three different checkpoints and one trick door before she found herself in the golden lit central room.

"Hey there Boss!" A grinning monster of a man greeted Neiva. Falling into step behind her as he cheerfully awaited her gruff greeting.
"What do ya' want Grover."
His gravely laugh punctuated her sentence.
"Well, we heard you ran into a little problem down by the westerly side. And wanted ta' know the score." A snort came from the smaller person in front of him.
"Please, it was a joke." Came the offended reply. "It was only three of JaX's idiot cronies. Took less than five minutes." Another derisive snort accompanied her irritated grumble. " Was a damn waste of time..."
The man named Grover barked out a laugh at that a satisfied glint in his eyes.
"Who'da thought. What with all the hell JaX's been raisin' about it we thought it was some sorta all out brawl!" They continued walking into the center of the room, his laughter ringing throughout the large caverns of the building.


"What do ya' got for me Des!" The girl barked to a lanky limbed ginger sitting up on the raised pedestal on far side of the room. His pale fingers flying on the heat sensory keypad as candy blue eyes fixated on the screen. Swiftly he spun his chair around when her combat boots hit the first of four steps. A mischievous smirk alight on his freckled features.
"Well, well, well, if the Queen hasn't returned. Heard you started a street battle on your 'little walk'." He taunted.
"Shut it Des an' tell me what cha' got."
Des chuckled good naturedly at the growled remark. ""Alrighty then, Dont tell me. S'not like i cant just look it up on the street cam's anyways." An impatient growl reached his ears." But more on that later. Besides its not what i

have for you today that matters just now your Lordlyness. Looks like we found a Streetwalker in the Northern Grid." The tech geek grinned like an imp at the news. "Quite the disturbance it caused too, seeing as the guys obviously military." Her face didn't change as she ascended the stairs, Acidic green eyes flicking to the screen in a wordless command that the boy obeyed instinctively.
"So, you know what we do to dogs." Intelligent blue eyes narrowed, the reckless smirk still ever present as be brought the mans picture up on the monitor.
"We put 'em down. Thing is this dog says he's tired of bein' covered in fleas. Says he wants ta' talk to you."
"Me."
"Well, actually he said he wanted to talk to the 'Boss-man', which as we all know, is you."
Suspicion engraved itself around her eyes, cupids bow lips tightened, jaw muscles clenched.
"Who found him?"
His smirk grew. "Doc an' Louie, who else?"
The irritated growl was spat between clenched teeth, "They just love ta' piss me off!" Whipping around she marched to one of the side doors, barely listening to Des's yelled location. "They're in the THIRD Locker!"
"Yea, yea, got it." Being the only answer he got as the steel door slammed shut.

______________________________________________________________


Nieva's leather clad feet marched along the stone corridor as it sloped downward, the orange lighting casting warped shadows beside her.
" So Boss, what 'cha gonna do to Doc an' Louie ?"
"Lets just say I'm

not going to do anything to them. But if anything should happen to them in the next oh...three days. I'm prepared to look the other way..."
The sentence trailed off threateningly. Grover's grin growing slightly more malevolent as he planned payback for all the pranks the duo had pulled on him in the past.
"That sounds like an excellent

idea your ladyship."
"Doesn't it? Ah well, lets go meet the latest stray Grover." A devilish chuckle escaped her lips. " I do hope he's potty trained..."
The raucous laughter followed them into the underbelly of their headquarters, bouncing eerily along the crudely carved walls.

Chapter Three: Working Dog



Rule 1: Never Assume. Know.




Russel Wood was not a brave man. In fact it would be more accurate to call him a coward. He jumped at shadows, he despised being alone, and he ran away from fights. No, Russel was not a brave man at all. But if there was one thing he was good at it was lying. He would do it instinctively, the falsities springing to his lips before any memory of the truth could emerge. A despicable talent, one that most people would be loath to admit. But then Russel thought most people were morons. He took pride in his gift. Rejoiced in the fact that from the age of six no one had been able to distinguish fact from fiction when the words came from him, so smooth was his tongue of silver.
It never bothered him that few people ever believed a word he uttered nowadays. He made people think, he inspired their dormant neurons to flare and synapses to fire. Like gas to an

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