Another Novels & Stories

ACE I surveyed Miranda from the corner of my eye as I drove to her apartment. She was nervous and she could deny it all she wanted but I saw it in the way her pulse hammered against her skin at the crook of her neck, in the way minuscule beads of sweat clung to her temple, and in the way she kept fidgeting or biting at her lower lip that now sported red cracks because she wouldn't stop chewing at it.

𝙰𝚌𝚎 𝙰𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛 7 years old. The brown-haired boy stood there looking at the woman helping her kids choose the toys they wanted. Ace didn't get help from her, he's shy, anxious that she's going to return the ten dollars teddy bear that he brought. His soft small hand clenched the ear of the brown teddy bear, he pouted and with a shaking body, he approached his mother.

Fix all the broken things around the pack lands and removing all the rubble and broken trees. More importantly we spent it helping the families that had lost someone and supporting those that had lost their mate as that was one of the hardest things to ever having to deal with, literally loosing the other part of your soul, no one could ever fully recover from that and most chose not to stay in this world.

"Barely." ​"It’s 4:59, sir," I replied, stepping forward and placing the silver flash drive on the polished mahogany surface. "The edit is complete." ​Luke finally looked up. His eyes were sharp, scanning me with a clinical detachment that made me want to shrink. He reached for the drive, his fingers brushing against mine for a fleeting second. I felt a jolt—a phantom spark of the connection we once had—but his expression didn't change. He plugged the drive into his computer, the silence in the room stretching until it felt suffocating.

“No, Connie and Hannah are team one. You are team two.” “Right,” she said. “I forgot.” “Forgot or weren’t listening,” he muttered aloud. Usually, he found her forgetfulness cute, but tonight he found it annoying and distracting. “Here he comes,” Elliott warned them. Through Elliott’s IAC, Aaron could see the dark figure of an older man, hunched over, with crazy black hair, slithering towards the chimpanzee cage. He weaved in and out of the shadows and seemed to do a dance step now and again.

“I’m dying.” “What the fuck?” The tone in Minus’s voice immediately shifted from anger to concern. I gasped, my hand reflexively covering my mouth. “I have CRC.” “What the hell is that?” Minus asked with a slight drawl. Evidence of his time spent in Savannah. “Jesus, Minus, you sound like a goddamned hillbilly,” Cutter said with a chuckle. “Colorectal cancer,” Warthog sang out, in a mock country singer voice, to a cheery tune that did not fit the lyrics.

Don't forget to follow me here and on I*******m it's mirah_selim Till then Adios

Finally. Named.

Deep. Oh no...

Not finished. Not even close.