What happens when your life is just a lie? What happens when you finally find out that none of what you believe to be real is real? What if you met someone who made you question everything? And what happens when your life is nothing but a fiction carved by Mr. Fiction himself? "The truth is rarely pure and never simple." — Oscar Wilde. Disclaimer: this story touches on depression, losing someone, and facing reality instead of taking the easy way out. ( ( ( part of TBNB Series, this is the story of Clarabelle Summers's writers ))
View MoreIf tears could build a stairway,And memories a lane,I'd walk right up to HeavenAnd bring you home again.- Sarah Lugo, If Tears I put the bucket of flowers on the ground by the tombstone. "Mom, Dad, Nate, I'm sorry that I haven't visited you these last two years. I promise I will visit you every year and tell you boring stories about how's life been treating me. I promise I'll keep you updated so one day when we meet again, there's nothing you miss and it feels like you've never left."I feel his hand on my shoulder and turn to him. Even in a casual sweater and jeans, Remliel still looks as good as he's in suits. I lay my head on his shoulder and he holds me tight.Sometimes the hardest part isn't forgiving others, it's to forgive yourself.Remliel helped me to regain my memory but as the memory came back, so did all the pain and suffering. It wasn't easy to deal with. I remember the day I committed suicide. I was blaming myself for their death. Because they weren't supposed to be
C H A P T E R 1 6 : V I S I B L E A N D E S S E N T I A L It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye. Antoine de Saint - Exupery ~ “No. I am not.” I pull my hand away from his hold. “You’re lying! I’m Julie Saint Andrews.” I need to make him see that. There are too many people thinking that I’m Juliet. If I start believing them, I will eventually forget who I actually am and I can’t let that happen. “I am not Juliet. You can’t simply come up to me, change my entire identity, and expect me to believe you.” “Your name was Juliet Mathias, but you changed it after Adam and Katherine St. Matthews adopted you from the orphanage,” Remliel explains. I keep my mouth shut because right now, I don’t know what to say or what to believe. He seems to
C H A P T E R 1 5 : O F F A N T A S Y A N D S U P E R N A T U R A L “Facts do not cease to exist because they are ignored.” Aldous Huxley, Complete Essays 2, 1926-29 ~ When I wake up the next day, it almost feels like nothing changed. But deep down in my heart, I know it did and there’s no turning back. I quickly take a bath and go to my office. I grab all the documents I got from Pete, along with the phone records, and head outside.I am about to knock on the door when it swings open, revealing a good-looking man in a suit. Two blazing hazel eyes stare back at me. A mysterious smile appears on his face as the corners of his lips turn upwards. “Julie,” his deep voice caresses my name in a way that sends shivers on my skin. “What can I do for you?” “Remliel,” I slightly nod. “I need your help.” He swings the open wider and lets
C H A P T E R 1 4 : T H E T H I N L I N E B E T W E E N D R E A M A N D R E A L I T Y Sleep occupies a third of our life. It is the consolation to the woes of our days or the woe of their pleasures, but I have never found that sleep was a rest. After a swoon of a few minutes, a new life begins, freed from conditions of time and space, and doubtless like the life which awaits us after death. Who knows whether there does not exist a link between these two existences and whether it is not possible for the soul now to bind them together Gerard de Nerval, Aurélia
C H A P T E R 1 3 : L I E S A N D W A R P E D T R U T H Be careful who you pretend to be, you might forget who you are. ~ “I’m sorry, Ms. Saint Matthews, but according to the record that we have, the house at 211 Roberts Rd, Ardmore, PA 19002 does belong to Mike Dawson,” says the short plump guy in a white dress shirt and brown pants. A gold-framed spectacle hung on the bridge of his nose. I frown. “Are you sure? How about the Saint Matthews? Do you have any records of them, their whereabouts?” I fish out my phone and text Stella while waiting for Pete, the officer, to search through the data on his computer. He’s the first person here who doesn’t mistake me for Juliet. Maybe the fact that he’s a fan of my books has something to do with that. Stella, call me as soon as you get this. I think Mom and Dad are missing.
C H A P T E R 1 2 : F R A G I L E T H I N G C A L L E D M E M O R Y Memory nourishes the heart, and grief abates. Marcel Proust ~ As I am driving home, I remember that I have not called my mom today, so I fish out my phone and dial her number. Strange enough, she does not pick it up. I give it one more try yet still no answers. I toss my phone to the seat next to me as I focus my eyes on the road. Nate. My high school buddy. Why did they have the same name? Is it really just a coincidence? If it is, there are so many coincidences so far. Starting with everyone mistaking me for Juliet, Juliet’s friend has the same name as my baby sister. And now, her brother has the same name as my best friend. An idea pops into my head like a lighting bulb. Maybe I should go to Ardmore, visit my parents, and check my high school
C H A P T E R 1 1 : C O N F U S I O N Your intellect may be confused, but your emotions will never lie to you. Roger Ebert ~ “No, you’re mistaken,” I shake my head firmly, refusing to pretend to be Juliet again. “My name is Julie. Julie St. Matthews.” A voice in my head is asking me if I was trying to convince her or myself, but I shut it off. With almost everyone I met saying thinking that I am Juliet, I can’t help to doubt the truth. “Oh, I’m sorry.” She raises her hand and tucks a few strands of her blonde hair behind her ear. “You just remind me of someone from my childhood. You both look so much alike.” “Was it by any chance, Juliet Matthias?” I decide to ask and see if there’s an opening. I know I am not going to pretend that I am Juliet, just like what I did with the nun, but I know if I say the correct name, there is a chance that she migh
C H A P T E R 1 0 : T H E S T A T E O F M I N D Truth depends upon the intensity of imagination, not upon facts. Neville Goddard. ~ Right after I tried and failed to convince Bob to take on the new story instead of Toby’s, I find myself once again behind the wheel again on the way to the orphanage. I need to gain more information about Juliet Matthias, her life at the orphanage, and where she is right now. I have to prove to Bob that this story is bigger and more interesting than Toby’s.Something, call it writer’s intuition, tells me that the nurse will be helpful in gaining this information. It does not take longer than the previous visit to get to Sister Margaret. It almost feels like she is secretly waiting for me when I see her in her usual spot under the tree in the garden. “Good morning,
C H A P T E R 9 : R E A L I T Y V E R S U S I L L U S I O N Reality is merely an illusion. Albert Einstein ~ “Who are you?” I stare at the stranger in confusion. I know who he is, he was the man in my dream, but I have no idea that he could visit me in reality as well, standing on my porch with a mischievous devil may care smile across his lips. I thought dreams are just fickle of our own imaginations. “My apologies, where are my manners?” he replies, though he does not look sorry at all. “My name is Remliel Deveraux. I believe you are Julie St. Matthews, Katherine’s daughter.” I blink. “You know my mother?” So I have been dreaming about my mother’s friend?? Ew, how gross is that?! “I’m here on her behalf, actually.” He smiles again, yet it still doesn’t reach his eyes. There’s somet
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