A Crack In Everything Book Novels & Stories

I didn't ask for anything that wasn't rightfully mine, but I made damn sure to get everything that was. I glanced at Zachary beside me, he looked completely broken. Anxious. Defeated. Nothing like the confident man I'd married. "Ella, is this really it for us? No second chances?" "That's right. We're done." I studied his face, remembering how nervous he'd been when he first asked me out all those years ago. But I wasn't that starry-eyed girl anymore. A cracked mirror can never reflect a perfect image again. Zachary and I—our story had reached its final page.

Outside, the skyline throbbed with life a distance away. He reached and fed his fingers between hers. No grand statements. Only this. Two in the dark, clinging to each other. Because sometimes the cracks allow the light to come through. And sometimes the anchor is a human being—sitting quietly to remain. ---

After all, he depended on Jessica to keep squeezing money out of Mom. Jessica said, "All that studying made you stupid. What's the point? You're not as pretty as I am, and Dad and Mom never liked you anyway. This easy life you're living is only happening because I gave it up, so enjoy it while you can. It won't last long." Later, she rummaged through my things like she owned the place. I thought it made sense since in my previous life, this had been her bedroom. She looked through everything and clicked her tongue, grumbling, "Seriously? You don't even know how to enjoy life. What kind of useless stuff are these? All you do is cling to these dumb books."

My mind went blank for a second. This was it. This was the crack.

And now— That version of the night felt like something else entirely. A constructed reality. A carefully placed lie. Ava pressed her fingers lightly against her temples. This was how it started, wasn’t it? Not with a dramatic revelation. Not with a single moment of truth. But with small fractures. Tiny inconsistencies. Little pieces that didn’t quite fit until suddenly— They did. And when they did— Everything changed. Her phone buzzed again. Ava froze. For a moment, she didn’t move. Didn’t reach for it. Didn’t breathe.

I try to scream, but my throat is packed tight with shredded transit logs. I need to hit the kill switch. If I hit the switch, the container opens. But my arms are dead weight, paralyzed at my sides. Above me, the tally counter isn't a digital display. It’s a massive, rusted iron gear grinding the numbers into place. It doesn't tick. It drops like an anvil as each number appears. Forty-seven thousand. CRACK. Eight hundred. CRACK. Twelve. The vibration shatters my teeth. The ceiling caves in, heavy lumber falling down to bury me-

There are fractures now. Cracks that let light through.​

She dropped the phone and heard it fall on the shards of broken glass on the floor. The atmosphere was suddenly calm. The world was like it has paused in its track. The moon that shone in the sky was now swallowed by darkness and no stars to prove it. Then the air was becoming cold, blowing on like it had a secret to tell. Thaddeus looked down at the man below. The body made the greenish-gold environment which was once appealing look like a bright red passage to hell as blood flowed from the blood like a river down the street. From distance, crows guffawed.

Due to too much used of illegal drugs and stress because of the crime she was facing she lost her mind. Now, she cannot even recognized me. And I really hate it. I hate the fact that she cannot even remember what she did— her demonic crime. I want to see her suffering in her own conscience. But how would it happen if she couldn't even remember anything about it? Dante Solomon Cartiño escaped while Mrs. Zarmeda, my Mother, admitted in Mental Hospital. She's really heartbroken when Dante left her after all the things she had done for him that resulted her to be on this place. Too much love is poisonous to human. It's unhealthy.

"I hope these still work." The Last Editor slowly walked forward. His face remained hidden beneath the shadow of the lantern. Only his voice reached them. "Stories multiply." "Worlds multiply." "Choices multiply." "And eventually..." "...everything collapses beneath its own weight." Another drop of black ink struck the floor. A second aisle vanished. The books that had just been created from Adrian's journey faded into mist before anyone could touch them. The White Book trembled violently. Golden cracks spread across its cover. Adrian held it tightly.