Beautiful Broken Book Novels & Stories

Finn *****Late Morning — The Broken Clearing***** Everything was wrong. Not the normal wrong, like when Lucian yelled or when Mama and Dad argued about stupid things. Not even the wrong that came with running or hiding. This was something else. The air smelled burned, thick and bitter like something had died and never been buried. Ash floated down like black snow. The ground was cracked and smoking, and everywhere I looked there were people screaming, falling, bleeding. The world felt broken.

And when she gave it to Simmy, he couldn't read it because the pages were empty. “Yes, I remember now, but the book was torn at the last page, and I couldn't find it again.” “That's because it doesn't want to be found. It only appears when you need it the most.” Odessa was getting more confused. “What is that supposed to mean?” “That's beside the point, Odessa. The point is, I read the whole book.” Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Everything?” “Yes. Everything,” he answered calmly. “And I can tell you how to break the snap.”

I can stare at the mess until I get a broom and throw what has become of my favorite wine glass away in the trash, accepting the fact that it can never be mended again. But I don't want to do that. Instead, I currently sit on the kitchen floor and cry against the cabinets at the messes I've made. And when I realize that there is a chance that everything I've caused may be unfixable, that's when I pitifully break down into complete and utter sobs. END OF BOOK 1

“I’m not going to hurt you.” “I don’t know that. You say you aren’t going to hurt me, but the way you act sometimes hurts me. One day you treat me like you want me. Then the next you’re telling people I don’t mean anything to you. That we are only friends. I can’t take that. Not from you. I’m already broken, Dmitry. But you the power to shatter me.” His eyebrows wrinkled together. “Dani. For days now, I have been trying to tell you how I feel.”

"You are an amazing person whether you see it or not. You see everything you've been through as bad luck but I see it as struggles that you made it through and became stronger from. I'm not scared of your past, Tiffany." Tiffany exhaled through her noes. She held a worrisome and somewhat sad look on her face which made my chest ache because I knew she was finding it hard to believe and accept that someone was willing to love her despite the baggage she was carrying. "Maybe you're right," she finally said, looking at me with soft eyes. "But... I'm broken and messed up and have pieces of me all over the place. That's not something anybody should have to deal with, Noah."

My Grandma died some few years ago but not after telling me everything I have to know, not after leaving a great burden on my shoulders. It was after her death that I decided to relocate. Thea tried all her best to let me stay but I told her I had to leave for my own good. I know that it is bad and very coward of me to always relocate when I am betrayed. I know I should learn to face my demons but what can a broken person really do? What good can ever come out of a broken Pieces of heart? Thea even insisted to follow me here too but I immediately turned her down and explained things clearly to her and she eventually understood.

How could everything be taken away from me just when I finally felt whole? A broken wail escaped Amaris as she clutched the book to her chest, her body curling over it as if she could somehow hold onto the life that had been stolen from her. Her sobs grew louder, raw and unrestrained, filling the emptiness of her room with the sound of her heartbreak. Each breath came in jagged gasps, as if the sorrow itself were too heavy to bear, pressing down on her until she could barely breathe.

Panic surged through me, my footsteps quickening as I stumbled into the disarray within. My home, my sanctuary, had been transformed into a nightmare. The living room was a sea of shattered glass, its shards glittering malevolently in the dim light. My favorite vintage records lay in ruins, their grooves now mangled. The scent of spilled wine and the acrid stench of broken memories lingered in the air. Tears welled up as I surveyed the wreckage. My cherished collection of books, collected over years of hunting through dusty old bookshops, was torn and strewn across the floor. The wooden shelves that had once held them proudly now sagged, defeated.

Broken glass littered the floor near the dresser where I had hurled a crystal decanter. Books lay scattered, their pages torn and crumpled. Picture frames…most containing photos of Celine and Caesar…lay face-down, their glass cracked beyond repair. With a heavy sigh, I began picking up the larger pieces, placing them carefully in the waste basket. Each piece seemed to mock me, reflecting my fractured soul at me in jagged pieces. This destruction was nothing compared to what I'd done to my relationship with Celine and Caesar. As I worked, my mind replayed our last encounter with sickening clarity. The way Celine had looked at me…her beautiful brown eyes filled with pain and disbelief.

My hands were flat on the surface in front of me. Then something inside me broke. Not cracked. Not fractured. Broke. Completely. Catastrophically. Like a dam that had been holding back an ocean for months finally giving way. I stood up and grabbed the edge of the desk. I flipped it. The massive oak structure crashed onto its side and sent papers and maps and pens scattering across the floor. The lamp shattered. Glass exploded across the stone. I grabbed the bookshelf next. Ripped it from the wall. Books rained down around me. Their pages fluttered like wounded birds.