Book Fragile Novels & Stories

My hands are unsteady, but the night is not. I pretend to be ready. I pretend. The watch is heavy. The watch is a loud reminder, a reminder of the night, of the time, of the time and the time and the time. I know how soon it is. I know. I know. My skin is warmer than I expect, warmer than I want, warmer than I can hold. It is warm and it is fragile. It is fragile and I pretend not to notice. It is fragile and more fragile than I am ready for. It is fragile like my hope, like the heat of my breath, like the heat of my resolve. It is fragile and loud and quick and raw. It is fragile like my fear, like the night. I pretend not to notice. I pretend it is not too late, not too late for this, for

“We’d drown in ourselves.” Her gaze flicked from me to him, and something unclenched in her face. Not all the way. But some. “I needed to say it,” she murmured. “Even if the fear never fully leaves.” “Good,” I said, a short laugh escaping me. “Apparently honesty is tonight’s theme.” RONAN It was strange. For all the magic we wielded, the Veil we patched, the world we’d stopped from ripping open—we had never looked more fragile than we did kneeling there, holding each other’s hands like three kids lost in the woods.

Human beings were fragile. That was the truth the fracture never understood. Fragility wasn’t weakness. It was reality. And pretending otherwise only created systems too rigid to survive. Tears gathered quietly in her eyes again. But this time she didn’t wipe them away immediately. Didn’t hide them. Didn’t apologize for them. She just let them exist. Adrian noticed. But didn’t comment. Another small mercy. After a long silence, Elena spoke again. “I think part of me believed that if I could just hold everything together long enough…”

Due to that, he hobbled around, nearly as good as crippled. Resentment simmered between them: Sean with his grudges, Rowena with her cold shoulder. Nancy confided in me that the pair, though housemates, were at each other's throats daily, stirring up a racket that could wake the dead. The stillborn they brought home did not last long before it decayed, swarming with maggots, filling the house with a stench worse than a sewer. Rowena's grip on sanity started to slip, her days filled with wild outbursts. A video of one such episode, self-recorded, went viral and, bizarrely, turned a profit.

Danica came flying into my arms and all I saw was red. Her face was swollen and wet with tears. The shirt I had given her earlier that day was stretched and torn on one side. Red welts formed on her arms. I wanted to wrap my arms around her. Tell her everything was going to be okay. But right now there was something else I needed to do. I moved her to the side. “Stay here, Danica.” She stood there trembling. At that point, I wasn’t even sure if she realized I was there. I stalked into the house where Rick was now watching us. He took one look at the gift-wrapped box in my hand and began nodding his head. A black belt was wrapped around his hand,

Because based on his advices, he seems to be an expert in the problem I am facing. "I don't think you can win her back. Remember this Del Mundo, not everything that breaks is restored. Cianna's fragile, and you know that fragile should be handled with care because once it's broken, it can't be repaired. Glasses, vases and other fragile materials—ike this. . ." "What the h*ll!" I screamed after he dropped the glass he was holding. "Look at that glass, I broke it. Now, let me fix it." He knelt down to pick up the broken pieces of glass one by one.

“Balance him. If he goes too deep, you pull him back. But if you stay soft, Alana, he’ll leave you behind. Not because he doesn’t love you, but because this world doesn’t wait for the fragile.” Fragile. The word echoed like a knife in my chest. The reflection of myself in the glass flashed before my eyes: pale, delicate, a doll in sundresses. That girl had been me once. That girl had believed in fairy tales and safe havens. But that girl had died the night Zach walked back into my life with more darkness than I’d ever seen. I clenched my fists. The war wasn’t outside the walls anymore. It was in me. And I refused to shatter.

"Fragile? Is that a compliment or what? I found that as an insult though." He didn't answer me yet when a car overtake us. He give way to letting the car take the road because the car was somehow in an emergency. "You are all fragile. That's not a compliment. That's what just I have found out. Do you want to know what makes a woman fragile? It is because of love. They become fragile and weak. When you are happy, the woman in you is fragile as well. You want to know why?"

“You’re just brave enough to comment.” Finn joined her, leaning on the railing like he owned it. “You haven’t threatened anyone in at least five minutes.” “I threatened three people mentally.” “That still sounds like restraint,” Finn said. I snorted. “Lower your standards.” They watched the hall with me for a moment. “Does it feel wrong to you?” Finn asked quietly. I didn’t answer right away. Wrong wasn’t the word. “It feels fragile,” I said finally. “Like glass pretending to be steel.”

Frail laughs out loud to the point he bends backwards. Meanwhile, Freck doesn’t know how to react to the revelation. The earthy smell of the soil fills the air around him. But instead of it to feel like life, it feels like the scent is turning to sand in his nostrils and blocking his intake of breath. Everything blurs, and the numbness in his left leg spreads to the right. Frail stops laughing, now standing upright and looking down at Freck like the latter’s an ant about to be crumpled under his boots.