All The Things I Never Said Book Novels & Stories

Or any writers, really. But the name felt like breath. Like an echo in a quiet room. So she bought the book. She didn’t read it right away. Carried it in her backpack for a week. Then put it on her nightstand, where it collected dust and guilt. She finally opened it one Thursday night, long after the rest of the house had gone to sleep. And on the first page, it read: To the ones we never got to meet — but somehow knew all along. Her chest tightened.

Everything, everything, everything. "I don't know anything," I say in a voice I want to be firm, I want to be assured, I want to be innocent, but which trembles, which cracks, which breaks, which says everything I don't want to say, everything I must not say, everything I cannot hide, everything I cannot deny, everything I cannot erase, everything that is written on my face, in my eyes, in my hands, in my body, in my soul, in everything I am, everything I was, everything I did, everything I wanted to do, everything I would have done if I could have, if they had let me, if they hadn't stopped me, if Élianor hadn't been there, if Élianor hadn't searched, if Élianor hadn't found, if Élianor had

My girlfriend and best friend adopted a stray. She kept going to his place ever since. Whenever she did, she would have that look of impatience on her face as she said, "I would go over to his place, but that cat only lets me hold it." Blake Chaucer sneered. "You think I want you at my place? It's the cat that likes you, not me." They would squabble whenever they met up. Still, it didn't take long for her to memorize his door's passcode. She even remembered how he needed something warm before bed because he had a weak stomach. When she didn't show up on my birthday, she said, "The cat's having a fever, and he can't handle it himself." I held my resentment over our situation for a long, l

Their expression was calm but tinged with urgency. “You’ve come far,” the stranger said, their voice layered with echoes that reverberated through the very fabric of the room. “But your journey is far from over.” “I’m tired of riddles,” Jessica shot back, her voice rising slightly. “Tell me what I need to do.” The stranger tilted their head slightly, as though considering the question. “Do? There’s nothing left to *do*. Only to decide.” Before she could respond, the books began to fall from the shelves, each landing open at her feet. Pages flipped rapidly, revealing fragments of lives lived and lost, choices made and undone. Some showed moments of triumph; others depicted failures so profoun

Alexa I never thought my life turned out like this. Never in my life want something like this to happen. I bet no one ever wants to. All my life, I only want happiness and a happy ending which later, I can tell my grandchild that my life is like a fairytale. I guess that will never happen then. You guys might be wondering why I said this. let me tell you.

‎ ‎Not warmly. ‎Never warmly. ‎ ‎It looked more like a warning. ‎ ‎"You're becoming brave." ‎ ‎"No," I said. "I'm becoming suspicious." ‎ ‎The smile vanished. ‎ ‎"Give me the card." ‎ ‎"What does it open?" ‎ ‎No answer. ‎ ‎My pulse quickened. ‎ ‎The silence told me everything. ‎ ‎It opened something important. ‎ ‎Something he didn't want me seeing. ‎ ‎Alessio sighed.

“I want to tell you what kind of book it is. Not what the back cover says you’ve read that. What I think it actually is.” I looked at the room. “It’s a book about a man,” I said. “Specifically, a particular man his hands, his voice, the strong black tea he drank every morning for thirty years, the way he cried at my school graduation and didn’t pretend he hadn’t. The way he cooked on Saturday afternoons and believed, without sentimentality, that paying full attention to the small things was the substance of a life.” I paused. “It’s also a book about what happened to him. What was constructed and deployed against him by people who found him threatening and found it convenient to remove him. W

Whenever arguments became too loud. Whenever life became too much. Books never asked questions. Books never judged. Books never reminded me of my failures. They simply existed. I sat in my favorite corner and wrapped my arms around myself. For a while I simply stared ahead. Thinking. Remembering. Hurting. The words Vivian spoke earlier replayed over and over again. Like a broken record. Know your place. Give birth to their child and leave. If you need money, I can give you. Money. The thought made my chest tighten.

I'm worried. I can't answer. Can't form words. I just walk. Block after block. Not knowing where I'm going. Not caring. People pass me, probably staring at the crying woman stumbling down the sidewalk. I don't care about them either. I end up at a park I don't recognize. Sit on a bench. Stare at nothing. I love you. You're everything. This is perfect. All the things he never said to me. All the things he saved for her.

I draped her pancakes with honey and dropped it on the table right in front of her, serving it with a glass of milk, after which I went back to the kitchen and had mine with a cup of hot chocolate. No one was at the hospital when I got there, and luckily for me, I brought a book along, so I sat right beside the bed and started reading the book. The book was “ My Father's Wish” by Bellaboy, a touching story of how a young man, Hunter, was set up by his late father's will to marry his middle school bully, Hazel, just so that he; Hunter, could claim his inheritance.