9 Hours Novels & Stories

I’ll ring the bell for the nurse. ‘Not yet.’ Andrea surveyed her, taking in the tousled honey tumble of her hair, her mascara-smudged-and-shadowed eyes and her unflattering pallor. He had never seen her look less beautiful and could not comprehend why, in spite of all the evidence to the contrary, she should look so wonderful to him. ‘How long have I been out of it for?’ ‘Almost eighteen hours.’ She was still wearing the same clothes. Most probably, he reflected, she had not even looked in a mirror, for she was not vain. ‘Have you been with me all that time?’

Chase and I stayed out of the way on the back deck, where the morning was still cool enough to tolerate if you caught it before ten. We sat in adjacent deck chairs with our respective coffees—vanilla oat milk for me, black for him—and watched the crew work through the sliding glass door. “Think they’ll actually finish today?” I asked. “They said three hours.” “Repair guys always say three hours.” “Yeah.” He took a slow sip. “Usually means four.” They finished in two hours and fifty-eight minutes.

Toward whatever end is waiting. Twenty-three hours and fifty-nine minutes. I'll be there in four.

I'll be in contact. Then three hours of quiet.

“I want a truce. Just for the remainder of this trip. Until we get back to Crown Point.” Her eyes narrow. “A truce,” she repeats. Skeptical little thing. “Just believe that I’m actually being nice.” I scoff. “It’s not completely foreign to me.” “It is to me,” she says under her breath. Still, she seems intrigued. The clock is ticking. It’s almost three-thirty, and my alarm is set for nine. The bus leaves at noon, and we’ll be back by mid-afternoon. It’s not a lot of time. It’s doable.

Why would she walk away now? But still, she was gone. And the silence gnawed at him. Maybe, he told himself, maybe her battery just died. But he waited at the hospital all the way until nightfall. She never came back. Panic clawing at his chest, Adrian grabbed his jacket and bolted out of the hospital. He jumped into his sports car and tore down the road, tires screeching as he ran several red lights. He gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. In just half an hour, he reached the villa.

"Kung kunting oras na lang ang natitira sa'yo... anong gagawin mo sa kunting oras na yan." "Ilang oras ba?" Haist. Gumana na naman ang pagkapilosopo ng babaeng 'to. Eh kung sabihin ko ngayon lang... Tss... "Isang linggo." "Isang linggo... mahabang oras pa naman yan eh... One hundred sixty-two hours pa naman." ...nahabaan talaga... Mapapadali ang buhay mo nito... "Para ipanalangin ko kay Papa God.. na wag na muna niya akong kunin... hahaha. Hindi pa naman siguro ngayon ang linggong yun Jin."

A man called 911 for emergency. "There is a man who has been hit and unconcious here on the Hillton Bridge just near at the Chandè University." He continues while taking a glance to the car of Simon. "Yes. Please do hurry!" Last word of the man before he end his calls and was curious together will the people that surrounded the car of Simon. Simon slowly gained his consciousness and he tried to open his eyes but still feel the pain of his body who got stuck in his seat. "Ahhh! Arrgggh!" Simon utters in pain.

André glared at the doctor, and he fidgeted a little. “Thirty hours” The doctor gave a nervous nod. “Yes, Alpha.” “Well then, your time starts now…”

“Say, Chris… when do you think we’ll reach the top of this one?” I ask barely able to breathe. He pauses and turns, “this peak usually take around ninety minutes to reach, to hit them all its nine miles, and then the nine miles back.” I stop and put my foot on a rock and pretend to adjust my shoelace while I discreetly suck in oxygen. But, I can hide my heaving chest, even in this tent of a coat. Next I remove my glove and look at my watch.