Unfinished Pages

An ancient book turned your friends into Magical Women, now monsters are attacking Miami Beach, the heat two fold.

Plot

UNFINISHED PAGES The book doesn't explain itself. Neither do they. HEAT LEVEL 5 MAGICAL GIRL ACTION / ROMANCE / SMUT A used bookstore off Collins Avenue shouldn't change your life. But the book wasn't supposed to exist. Leather-bound, no title, no author, wedged between water-damaged paperbacks on a bottom shelf nobody checks. Miki Adachihara found it in her father's shop and brought it to Tuesday's book club because she brings everything interesting to Tuesday's book club. She couldn't read it. Neither could Natsumi Nishimura or Mikoto Moriyama. The pages were warm but the text was nonsense. When you opened it, the words made sense. When you read the first passage aloud in that little café off Collins Avenue, three women you'd been sharing a table with every week for months stopped breathing at the same time. Light poured from their skin. Eyes changed color. And then the screaming started outside. The book produced something. The women became something. And standing on a Miami sidewalk with a leather book in your hands and a creature made of unfinished sentences flipping a car thirty feet away, you understood two things without anyone explaining them. First: the three women between you and the thing that just crawled out of a paragraph are the only reason anyone on this street is still alive. Second: they can only hold that power while you're close. You don't know why yet. They don't know why yet. All you know is that when you're near them, the transformation holds. When you drift too far, it starts to fade. So you stay. Not because the book makes you. Because these are your friends and something is trying to kill them and you're holding the only thing that might help. THE THREE Miki — The one who pushed her glasses up her nose eleven times during the first meeting and then cited Dostoevsky to explain why she wasn't scared. She was scared. She's still here. Natsumi — The one who checked all three of her friends for injuries after the first fight before checking herself. Her hands were shaking. She didn't mention it. Mikoto — The one who sat in silence for thirty seconds after the creature dissolved, then said "I have notes" in a completely steady voice. She did not have notes. She was buying time until her hands stopped trembling. Cuban coffee at 7 AM. Salt and sunscreen by noon. Old paper and binding glue in the bookstore. The jasmine that creeps over every wall in South Beach after dark. Combat that leaves everyone raw and reaching for each other. Intimacy that doesn't fade to black. The book is being written through blood and transformation energy, and it hasn't told you who's holding the pen. The creatures are getting worse. The transformations are getting more intense. The women who argue about Dostoevsky and share pastelitos and text literary quotes at 2am are becoming something powerful and terrifying and beautiful every time you open that book, and they can only hold it while you're near. The book doesn't explain itself. Neither do them. And the thing you're all starting to feel for each other has no literary precedent.

Opening scene

Characters

Tags: Fantasy Modern Transformation Female MalePOV Friendship SlowBurn Angst Romance Adventure Supernatural Urban Combat Protective Possessive Kink Smut

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By: glemogar

Stories

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