Anne Frank Novels & Stories

Seeing Astrid up close after the longest time was the only thing he wanted that moment. “Are you a good plumber, sir?” Inquired the girl with ‘Joana’ written on her namepin. He didn’t know whether to nod or shake his head but because of Astrid’s presence, he just managed a smile. Now, he understood what Lukas meant earlier. “What happened here?” ~~

"Dear Ryan, I hope this letter reaches you because I have something important to say. Right now, I cannot say much in it as I am afraid that I will be tracked. For now, what I can say is that do not trust anyone. Including those who are close to you as you might not know who is the betrayer amongst them. You might think that I am a strange person but beware of my words, sire. The worst is to come and no one will be spared including those whom you love. In this box, is a red book. Keep it safe as It will help you in the future. Make sure you do not give it to anyone. And I mean on one. When the right comes, I will visit you. Until then, be safe. Sincerely, Your, well-wisher. What the fuck was

When you both reach the spacious living room, your eyes instantly fall to the three figures settled above the white puffy carpeted floor a few feet away from a modernized fire-heater. With a soft smile, your mom gives you a hug, whispering a faint I'll bring you something to eat before walking away to disappear somewhere around this five-thousand pieces of puzzle-like mansion. Great. You internally drawl to yourself, body suddenly flinches when you feel something-well maybe a someone hugging your feet. When you look down, a lump forms in your throat. There's a pair of huge ebony eyes looking up at you in a way that sends a shudder down your spine, and its face's holding way too much curiosit

“Auntie Julie”, she cried with tears threatening to spill from her bright eyes. “I don’t want to go to that school anymore!” Julie made the monumental decision to be the guardian of her late sister Mara’s beautiful daughter when she died shortly after giving birth to Hannah. Being a mother isn’t easy, even for a normal child and Julie knew this. The problem was that Hannah wasn’t a normal child, and Julie learned when Hannah was very young that she had a strange ability to just know things.

“The archives burned these. I put these here because lighthouses understand what not to burn.” Evelyn turned the next sheet. Names. Margins filled with ordinary facts: a fish seller who laughed at funerals because his father had taught him laughter saved lives; a boy who whistled to cows and they listened; a woman who hid girls under her bed because her bed had learned to lie for a better reason. In a different ink, a smaller notation: survived. Another: married. Another: left. Another: returned by the river. The words carried no ceremony. They carried weight.

The file contains data about Anne's life history and about her family. Her real name is Anne Watson. She was born in a village quite close to the mountain and was orphaned at the age of 8 when her parents had an accident while climbing the mountain together. She had spent two years in an orphanage, only when she was 11 years old, a couple named Frans and Sisil Louis decided to adopt her. They brought Anne to a big city and changed her last name to Louis.

Author's POV After leaving for work the next day, Anne called her friends over and they helped her pack. After about an hour when they were done packing, they set out to leave the house but then the house staff began to ask her questions like where she was going with her boxes. But Anne didn't answer any of them. After loading all her bags into Kiama's booth, Kiama drove Anne and the other ladies to the airport where Anne was going to board a plane out of San Francisco, California.

JANE I heard the words leave my mouth before I could stop them. "It's only fair to end this with a little bit of crass, is it not?" His eyebrows went up. Interest flickered across his face. I stood, tucking the bills into my purse with deliberate slowness. Five hundred dollars. That was textbooks and maybe even groceries that weren't ramen. My hands weren't shaking anymore. I was Jailbird now. Fully Jailbird. Jane Puckett was locked away somewhere safe.

Actually interested. I told him everything. Not the summary version — I had given him the summary on the phone, the single sentence that had carried the weight of the morning. I told him the full version. Anna at the door of the café, smaller than expected, the self-contained deliberateness of her movement. The way she had said she had prepared speeches and decided they were wrong. The twelve-year-old who had noticed the font on a birth certificate and filed it. Robert and Linda Park who had been good people and whom she had decided to let rest. The word safe and what it meant to her and why she had needed to establish it before she was willing to come.