Sadstory Mga Nobela at Kwento

The story of a cold-hearted and cruel bodyguard -Jack Macario- with a scar on his cheek that still dissolves in his misery. His elegy accompanies the death of his wife since five years ago. Lilyana -his wife- died of a serious illnes after giving birth to a little baby. A deep sense of longing for the figure of his wife made Jack slumped. For the sake of killing time, Jack's daily life is only spent getting drunk. That afternoon, fate once again tried to play with Jack's life which was meaningless. An incident occurred, Jack accidentally bumped into a girl at the crossroads. The girl was named Sharren Watson, the daughter of a noble in England. Sharren was badly injured, and almost died. However, a bit of luck came to Sharren woke up in a hospital with both legs paralyzed. Because of the reason paralyzed the fiance named Robert Chayton decided to leave her. The predicate 'spinster' is now attached to Sharren. Immediately hatred took over Sharren's mind, she intended to take revenge on Jack. However, her heart betrayed, unconciously, Sharren has fallen in love with Jack. Will Jack be able to receive from Sharren, the spinster? Then what about Jack's five-year-old daughter? Meanwhile, since childhood, Eleanor was close to Deasy, the younger sister of the late Lilyana, who also had feelings for Jack.

* It is said that the most painful wounds leave the deepest scars. No one could attest to that more than Afrah Aminu. For eleven years she's kept a secret to herself, knowing that she might never be able to tell anyone. Not that she wanted to. But now, with the sudden arrival of a strange man in her life, she finds herself thrown into the terrifying situation of having to relive it all. As he tears down each and every wall she has set up around her heart, the memories of that haunting night come crashing in waves. Will she be able to survive it? Or will she be crushed underneath its weight?

Bo Ra is a normal girl like us. She wants to live a happy life. But she faces too many problems beyond us.

On the day of my birthday, my cousin, who does ballet, falls and injures her leg. My father smacks my leg with a club in a fit of rage. I cry out in pain, but he doesn't care. He sneers and says, "Now, you know how it feels! Why didn't you stop to think how much pain your cousin would be in when you pushed her and made her fall down the stairs?" He hits me with all his might until I can't make any more sounds. To drive the lesson home, he shoves me into the basement, uncaring that I'm on the brink of death. "I'll let you out of there once you stop thinking these dirty thoughts, Yvonne!" But when he opens the door to the basement once more, all he sees is my decomposing corpse.

In my previous life, I had been suffering from a terminal illness when I won the lottery.  To my shock, Mommy advised me to forgo treatment and leave the winnings to my younger brother, David, to use for his marriage.  I refused to become an accessory to his future, so, behind my parents’ backs, I donated every bit of it to an orphanage.  When they found out, they were furious. They called me a heartless, ungrateful wretch.  After severing ties with me, they abandoned me at the hospital. On David's birthday, they gathered as a family and celebrated him while I was left to die in the hospital, utterly alone. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day I had won the lottery.  Recalling the pain and betrayal of my past life, I resolved to leave my parents that very day.  But to my surprise, when I returned home, they had completely changed.  They doted on me and showered me with affection.

I died beneath the Ferris wheel. The killer took a photo of the Ferris wheel and sent it to my mother. 'Mom, I want to ride the Ferris wheel with you too,' wrote the killer. In my mother's voice message, her tone was filled with hatred as she replied, "How dare you ask to ride the Ferris wheel with me when you killed your own sister? Why won't you just die?!" As she wished, I was dead. However, what she didn't know was that the one who killed me was my so-called dead sister.

My mother was the best portrait artist in the police station. She had a strong sense of justice and brooked no evil. However, all I got was a sharp retort when I called her to save me. "You know it's your sister's coming-of-age celebration today, and you're cursing her? Kidnapped, are you? Fine, the kidnappers can kill you for all I care." She assumed it was a prank call. So, she refused to go to the police station and do her job. I wasn't saved in time and was tortured to death. When the DNA report came out, she came to the scene all wobbly. She drew a portrait of me with my bones as reference, her hand trembling all the way. "Jessica? It can't be her. This is a mistake!" She tried again and again. Yet, it didn't matter how many times she redid it as the portrait showed my face. My mother, who had hated me my whole life, teared up.

David was a sad champ, a mess, and an academic genius. By genius, I mean an A+, no effort type of a genius. He is that child that every parent kneels and prays to God to have. You know them, those that society admires. And are held closest to heart. But he was still human.

The music made the speakers tremble, the floor vibrated with the rumble of the sound and the jumps of the crazy people. Each one in their own world, dancing together, dancing separately. Enjoying music, company and alcohol. I danced alone, with a drink in hand. Gliding, moving my hips to the rhythm of the music, not paying much attention to anything or anyone around me. Just enjoying that moment of inner peace that I was needing and he was giving it to me. It was a respite, a window that I opened myself in my own cage to let in air and I knew that as soon as I left the club the window would close and I would lock myself back in my world without fresh air. Therefore, he enjoyed everything he could. Alone. With eyes closed. Sweating the bad energy that others left me and breathing the good vibes that I had to give myself. They were approaching me. I drove them away. They invited me. I rejected them. they spoke to me I silenced them. I just wanted to dance and they were going to have to respect that. It was amazing how loud music could be my oxygen tank. It silenced my thoughts, freed me from tensions. There was nothing more relaxing in my life than dancing with my eyes closed and the volume turned up to a thousand. I twirled, I jumped, I wiggled, I hummed, and I sang. The brightly colored lights flickered making it difficult to see, but it was what I liked the most, going blind for an instant, forgetting that I had the ability to see the world, a false, disastrous and difficult world.

This an autobiography of a man's childhood day, the horror and the dread that he went through, it also comprises of other happenings that made up his childhood day: both sad and happy moments.