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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.



Fiction genre suitable for people of all ages. Everyone will find something interesting for themselves. Our electronic library is always at your service. Reading online free books without registration. Nowadays ebooks are convenient and efficient. After all, don’t forget: literature exists and develops largely thanks to readers.
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 » Thunder by Evelyn J. Steward (top books of all time txt) 📖

Book online «Thunder by Evelyn J. Steward (top books of all time txt) 📖». Author Evelyn J. Steward



Thunder

Above, the intense blackness pressed down on her like an anvil, heavy, noxious; it was as if she could smell It wanting her, pressing her. At the base of the cliff the ocean roiled as tornado like, the gale whipped the top of each wave with furious delight.
She saw the first one from the corner of her eye, fsr away, and yet she was sure.
The rail she clung to was unsafe. She edged along the cliff top path as both hands were needed when the wood suddenly gave way to the pressure.
Large spits of rain began to sting her face and sharp rivers of acidic water ran down her cheek, her chin and on down over her protruding bones. Her wind-whipped hair flung itself across her eyes, blinding the moment.
She felt rather than saw the beginning of the next, abd as she turned her head the brilliant blue-white arc flashes descended from the heavens. It was close. Deep within her ample body a jarring bone-rubbing feeling began and travelled through her chilled flesh to meet and join the low rumbling above. The a sudden crescendo of sound like that of as mythical blacksmith beating an iron hammer repeatedly on the shoe of a Valkyrian steed.
The next one came almost immediately after, so near. No rumbling this time but a sudden crashing as of a giant symbal. There was no malice just raw natural power needing an escape from sum total, awe-inspiring power; this was thw worlders long fetters.
A shrill laugh escaped her lips and anchoring herself to a nearby tree, she threw her arms in the air and languished in the emotional tide that swept over her at each thunderous tumult. This was better than sex any day; this was world crushing Nature at her most fearsome. The woman was exhilarated; she was becoming one with the storm that railed about her. It’s sexual plaything. Man was puny compared to this and she was risking all for the sensation.
One more violent crash and it moved on. She felt weak, she felt used. She caught her breath, suddenly drained of all emotion. The climax had been so sweet.
The wind dropped fast until it was only a toying breeze. The tree became her crutch to lean upon until she regained her strength.
At last she was able to move slowly away from the pinnacle, back to inanity, back to her little boring life, back to reality…….until the next storm came along.

Copyright Evelyn J. Steward 23rd September 1992

Imprint

Publication Date: 10-14-2011

All Rights Reserved

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