20 Years Later Book Novels & Stories

he said, his dark eyes locking into mine, then he took his leave. We continued our delivery but something about the man from earlier gave me goosebumps. I had never seen him before but he looked quite strange_ the kind of strange one needed to be wary about. Nonetheless, I shook my head, driving all thoughts of the strange man to the back of my mind. …. …. …… ….. …… ….. I changed into my pajamas as I took a book from the shelf. It was an ancient book that contained some of the customs and traditions of Fiato kingdom.

The blank notebook waiting for whatever had not been thought of yet. The path continued. The building continued. The territory was tended. The old things were content. Here. Still here. Twelve years old and already further into the library than anyone before her. And the best rooms still ahead.

I turned to look at Ivana. “I was here staring at it all day, I was staring at it to hear and remember those words she had said to me at the airport and compare it with what she told me yesterday at the balcony…” I shut my eyes and open them up again. “I couldn’t remember all the words she told me yesterday, I could only remember the words she told me 14 years ago.” I look at the necklace. “I wanted to throw it away, but after much contemplation, I figured it all out.” I looked at Ivana and could tell she was curious to know what I figured out even if she doesn’t want to say a word.

he said. "I know," I said. "You recommended it to me. Eight years ago." He looked at me. Something moving through his expression. "I forgot that," he said. "I didn't," I said. He was quiet for a moment. Then he came further into the aisle. Looked at the shelf beside me the way people looked at shelves in bookstores, the unfocused scan of someone open to being surprised. He pulled out a book. Looked at the cover. "On technique," he said. "From 2019. Have you read it?"

Thea didn’t really want to die just because Anthony was pissed off at Ted. Thea sat down at the desk in the corner, pulling out the graphic novel she was close to finishing. A tale of a woman who discovers she has the power to see the future, the story had gotten dark and twisty with each panel that Thea drew. She’d intended this particular story to be one volume, but the story had expanded so much that Thea could see multiple volumes in the future.

“By the way, your birthday is coming up soon.” The reminder made me freeze mid-step. My birthday? I blinked, trying to remember the date. “Oh. Yeah,” I mumbled. “I almost forgot about that.” I wasn’t lying—I really had forgotten. With everything that had happened, it was hard to keep track of time. I was turning twenty. Twenty years old. It felt strange to say it aloud. Time had flown so fast, and yet it hadn’t. It was as though all those years had slipped through my fingers like water, especially the ones I lost.

From the age of ten, every dollar my parents spent on me became a debt. Tuition. Clothes. Food. Even medical bills. By eighteen, I had signed one hundred and ninety-nine promissory notes. But Camilla—the daughter of the man who died protecting my parents—received everything for free. They gave her my bedroom, my inheritance bracelet, a Manhattan apartment, a Maserati, and eventually even the attention of my fiancé, Nick. My parents called it repaying her father’s sacrifice. They called my suffering “heir training.” On the eighteenth birthday Camilla and I shared, I was seriously injured in a car accident. While my family celebrated her aboard a Caribbean yacht, I begged them for three thousa

I never once had any hatred for him, since I fully understand his condition, and I believe that he didn’t want to forget me or even leave me for that long if it wasn’t for his memory loss. Nana turned the volume up. I could see Kristof coming near me in my peripheral vision, but I couldn’t lose my focus on the television. “Apologies for this question, Mr. Hayes, but we heard that you once got into an accident and even suffered from memory loss before leaving this country. Are you coming back to regain your memories, or is it just for business?” the interviewer asked him. “Honestly, I regained my memories just a few months after staying in the US. So, yeah, it’s just for business.” He respond

And when I opened them—he was gone. Only the older version of me remained. Still sitting at the altar. Still watching. Still waiting. I approached carefully. She didn’t move. "Can I see that?" I asked, nodding toward the book in her lap. She didn’t answer. But slowly, her hand moved, flipping the cover open. Only one page inside. ALIKA MORGAN-BLACKWELL. SEPTEMBER 18, 2073. Forty years from now. "Is that… a death date?" I whispered.

a voice said, and I looked behind me, confused. "Who are you?" I asked as I clutched the book close to my chest as if I were protecting it. The man chuckled and only paged through his book as he scribbled something simultaneously. "I'm not surprised you don't remember me; it's been twelve years, after all," he said as he dropped his pen and leaned his head on his hand, smiling. I observed his features and tilted my head to the side. Bringing my hands to my hips, I sighed and said,