Annie's Fiction Novels & Stories

I’ve lived my life, protecting myself from the world, from disappointment, betrayal and lies, but with her, I began to bring down those walls until I didn’t even know when my feelings developed into so much more without even seeing a glimpse of her. I skim over her collection, Motorcycle Club, Mafia... Disney Villain tales… and then there are the classics that she accidentally slipped out that she reads before denying she read them. I crouch down. They may be at the bottom, but the books have been read and I can’t help but smile. Jane Eyre, Anne of Green Gables, Pride and Prejudice, The Thirteenth Tale… Smiling, I take out the first book in the Anne of Green Gables collection, remembering ho

“Very funny.” He left the kitchen, and the moment the door clicked shut, my shoulders dropped. Silence filled the room faster than the smoke had. I rinsed the pan slowly, letting the rhythmic sound of running water ground me. My mind replayed Roy’s words on a loop. “People die every day. What’s special about the girl you speak of?” Everything. Anna wasn’t corrupt. She was meticulous. Damn cautious. She was borderline paranoid about financial records. If the newspaper labeled her a fraudster, then someone had planted that narrative. And if someone had planted it, then someone powerful wanted her silenced.

"Your own siblings. Five of them." Annitore didn't flinch. "I did." "Then you're a monster," Annie said, her voice breaking. "You're evil. I don't care what they did to you. I don't care what happened to your father. You became exactly what you chose to become." Annitore smiled, "Perhaps. But I immortal monster. So I'd say it was worth it." She took a step toward Annie, and suddenly she shifted. The storyteller vanished. "I'm not a storyteller," Annitore said, flames beginning to dance along her fingertips, "and now, it's time for me to get back to my husband. And I'm going through your body to do it."

Anna was a miracle child, and so is this book. She looked down on the paperback on her lap, its cover dazzling as ever. The Anthem of Lycanthropy. She couldn’t believe she was the author of this, that this was her life, and that her life story went viral — with everyone thinking it’s a realistic fiction. But of course, nobody knew that she was the writer behind the works except her and Ellie. Everyone just knew the writer as L.M.H. and that was it. Leal Miragia Horryn.

She has recently come to the conclusion that she has not yet accomplished anything noteworthy in her life. Annalia's entire existence on this planet comprised of nothing more than plotting out ways to avenge her family's injustices and make up for the financial hardships they had had as a result. She is now 23 years old. She never stops thinking about increasing her power, wealth, and reputation, yet she is entirely ignorant that she is not actually living but rather only existing. But after she met Adam, everything went in a new direction. Annalia felt alive. Her dying self was gradually healing as if it were a deep wound that magically healed on its own without her doing anything about it.

Jess then took Naomi's hand, leaving the man who was watching them leave with a smile "Ah, it turns out her name is Naomi..." He muttered, before turn his body and go. *** "You know my heart almost broke when you didn't get to your room even though it was already midnight!" Anne grumbled in annoyance to Naomi who just smiled as she drank the tea brought by the maid. She knew that she had made her cousin feel bad. But it seems balanced, because Naomi has already given some of the jewelry she really likes to Anne who secretly has a side job as a novelist. And Anne needs money to publish her novel this time.

Anna thought. “Nate, I’m sure that wouldn’t happen. I’ve heard all types of story pitches. There’s really nothing unusual in the fiction world, believe me. The weirder is it, the better it sells.” “That’s just it, Anna. Vashti’s Daughter isn’t fiction. It’s real. I have to publish this book and you’re the one who has to publish it,” Nate paused when his sentence was met with a glaring stare from Anna. He quickly continued before she has a chance to verbally communicate her displeasure. “but I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me tell you about my trip to Hamadan.”

I am not proud, but I am whole, at last. It was Gray who gave me the name Annie Fowler. It was someone from his company who created the documents I needed - driver’s license, passport, Social Security card - to move about the world as someone else. But I made Annie what Lolita always wanted to be - a wife and mother with a big house and a beautiful child, a husband who cherished her - someone totally different from who her mother had been.

Angelo “So, tell me what brought you here to Italy? I thought you were enjoying touring the world,” I asked as Annie said followed me to my study room after dinner. Annie is my cousin, my aunt’s daughter. I wouldn’t say we grew up together, but she spent many of her holidays with us. Annie is a prestigious writer who sold a thousand copies of her debut novel. “Don’t even say you’re here for inspiration. Why can’t you stay in one place to get inspiration? You don’t have to travel around,” I remarked.

Her brothers walked out and shut the door behind them, leaving her in her cold room, with her damp tears collapsing in on themselves and her loud sobs that she kept to herself. 🌹 The tailors measured dutifully, whispering to themselves. They’d secretly give her pitying looks as if knowing the fate before her, but she caught those looks. If they thought they were sly, then she was James Bond. But it wasn't just them, though, all the maids, the guards, so-called henchmen, they all gave her those pitying looks. “Anaya,” She jerked furiously and accidentally knocked the tailor down,