روايات وقصص ضمن Books About Tragedy

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

"'Some things are more precious because they don't last long,' right?" "You're seriously the only person who's ever quoted that book back to me." She drew me into a hug and I luxuriated in the sparks I felt. "Right, but also... 'Behind every exquisite thing that existed, there was something tragic.' That's all this is, Cass—this is just our tragic something." My chin tapped against her shoulder as I nodded. Even if doing so hurt, I eased our embrace and let her go. "What happens now?"

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."

Of all people, I found salvation in a Sario. I spent years telling myself this is just the way the world is. It’s no one’s fault, just luck of the draw. Now I know that’s not true. Now I have someone to blame for my suffering. How many more Unfortunates were born a Fortunate? How many children are suffering in Unfortunate camps because their parents didn’t want them?

I asked the system, “Now that the plot has fallen apart, will this world still continue on?” For once, the system cracked a joke. [You lost your love. Does that still count as a tragedy?] I smiled and stepped toward tomorrow.

As I lay on the genuine leather sofa with a glass of 1982 Lafite in hand, I finally felt like the hero of a power-fantasy novel I was meant to be. Suddenly, a highlighted post popped up on my phone screen. It was from the campus forum. "Why Did Jacob the Fool Suddenly Lose His Mind?" I raised a brow and tapped into the thread with interest. There, students were enthusiastically discussing my "heroic act" of feeding the sandwich to a stray dog yesterday. Someone had even started a betting pool. "I'll bet a dollar that Jacob takes Carol to a fine dining restaurant and begs for her forgiveness." "I'll put ten dollars on tomorrow. Jacob will be crawling back with tears in his eyes, apologizing t

Over the next few days, I kept seeing news about his company on my phone. At first, people only discussed how strange it was to hold a funeral at the office. Then, information leaked about the company's poor-quality products and major defects. Some people even spread rumors just for clicks. Like waves building up higher and higher, Daniel's business collapsed within a few weeks, and he was left bankrupt. He also became a recognizable figure everywhere he went. Cameras practically followed him, so he had to wear a mask, though people still recognized him. The once high-and-mighty boss had become a rat in the gutter.

"I need something to occupy my mind, not sedate it, little bird. Something dramatic, passionate, maybe a classic tragedy." ​We paused in front of a section devoted to foreign literature. ​"How about Wuthering Heights?" I suggested, pulling the dense volume from the shelf. "All-consuming passion, deep obsession, and tragic consequences. A perfect distraction." ​He took the book from my hand as his fingers brushed mine. A contact that lasted a mere second but felt like an electric jolt. I immediately hid my hand behind me. He weighed the book in his hand, not looking at the title but at me.