Books About Tragedy Novels & Stories

“Claire, it seems you are so busy these past few days. I barely see you here in the mansion,” her mother said. “I’m very sorry mother. I’m just having so much fun on the book I read. It has really a great story. So I always look for a place where I can be alone.” “Oh what story it is?” “It is titled, Against the Tragic Fate. It is the story where the lead character was given a chance to relive her life again and fight the tragic ending of her story in her previous life.” Claire lied.

Kathleen's hand trembled and her lips moved but nothing came out. "What are you doing?" Vince spread his hands on either side of his body in frustration. He had to get her the hell out of here, Vivian was coming. "Why are you doing this to me?" she sobbed hysterically. The weight of her situation suddenly fell upon her like a stone and crushed whatever was left of her composure. “I am ruined!” "I am not doing anything to you. I never promised I would marry you. Did I?” He shouted, fearing he may have said something to that effect while drunk.

Learning of this distinction, back in the halcyon days where I still breathed and subsisted on solid food, changed my entire outlook on things. A comedy can be tragic. A tragedy can be funny. The difference is simply in how things play out. I'm telling you this because I want you to know, despite the awful things that happened to me in this story, the loss of almost my entire family, the fear and rage and paranoia, the story that you're hearing is not, in fact classically a tragedy. It is a comedy. I remind myself of this a lot. * * *

We talk about my next submission to her team, and its likely potential to get contracted. "You know, I don't think romantic tragedies are widespread in terms of e-books." One editor from the group says. "That's because people only favour happy endings. Their life is tragic enough as it is." It is an author who speaks. "They're right when they said happy endings only exist on paper," Myra speaks disappointedly. And I wouldn't expect anything else from a devoted employee and also someone who has a full-time job as a single mother with two kids and no spare time.

When I pushed open my bedroom door, Lyra was practically vibrating with happiness on the chair beside my bed. A pizza box sat open on my sheets like some absurd offering to a goddess I no longer felt worthy of worshipping. Grief keeps stretching me thin — sometimes I go numb, sometimes a small thing makes all my feelings flood back at once. Humor and hunger both do that, in different ways.

What happened to "not taking things too far" when Martin decided to suspend me, not even giving me a cardboard box to pack my things? "Martin," I said finally, "some things, once burned, are gone for good—literally and figuratively." I shook his hand off and walked off without looking back. Behind me, he let out a desperate wail. Only I knew that the real show was still ahead. The investors who had been tricked out of their money were probably already on their way.

"He's strong. You have to be strong for him too." I only nodded. I know it won't be okay. My father, Lucas, my life. None of them will be okay. I've long since learned that the Mafia is a dangerous world. It takes everything and everyone. But with the decade's worth of practice and experience that everyone will always leave, I don't know why it still continues to squeeze my heart. Because he's your father, you idiot. You can be a fucking animal and still feel sad for the fact that your father might be dying.

The windows on both floors were tall and arched, taking up most of the wall space and there were iron shutters to cover them in the event of a siege, the basement windows were half circles and also had the same protections. Kinsley looked around the vast shelves and breathed in deeply, a smile on her lips at the smell of books before she wandered down the nearest aisle, running her fingers over the aged spines as she began her research, having most of these books memorized as she had spent most of her life in this building. She grabbed a few books and took them to a corner with her favourite stained glass window. It depicted a dragon the colour of the blazing sun flying over an open field fu

She wanted to watch her death, so she did not shut her eyes while she drove into the pole. Everyone thought it was either careless driving or maybe she lost control of the steering wheel. But only Jasmine was aware of what Marrita did. She had seen Marrita’s note. In it Marrita talked about how she was not going to enslave herself to a man she did not know and how she was going to end it in the best way known to her.

She tilted her chin to the piece of paper in Ace's hold, "That's a piece of my journal." "Oh, trust me it didn't disrupt anything." She smiled and walked closer, "glad to hear that," she eyed the name inscribed on the tombstone, "Death is really something else, huh? Losing someone dear feels like losing a big part of you and your life you never knew existed. She was a good person, wasn't she?" She quickly turned to Ace who nodded sadly. "Funny how the world is: the bad prevail and the good perish."