Books Written By Disabled Authors Novels & Stories

She said dreamily with a smile and my heart clenched at her words. I could almost feel her pain because I'm in a similar situation in reality. Despite not being blind, not being able to speak makes me feel the same pain she does. The inferiority and the abuse has always been the biggest problem of people like us who have disabilities that can't be helped.

It was one thing to want to help people, but it was another to admit how broken you felt inside. "Because..." I started, a hot tear finally escaping and running down my cold cheek. I took a shaky breath, forcing myself to say the words out loud to someone else for the very first time, "Because there are things about me that are... broken. I have dyslexia and dysgraphia. I can't read like normal people do, and I can't write without everything getting jumbled up." The roof went completely silent, save for the quiet rustle of the leaves in the garden below. I kept my eyes glued to my lap, waiting for the laughter, or the pity, or the look of disappointment I was so used to imagining.

According to him, this book sharpened him more than he thought any book could. “Oh, and I am venturing into another book LETTERS TO MY RAP*ST, a book by bestselling author Fatima Ashabe… I'm not sure I pronounced the name right. It is a book written by a Nigerian author about rape victims, giving us a dive into their life after rape, it is such an emotional rollercoaster. Dad said I have to get mine because of the sticker on the back. Said it is about healing and stuff. I have to burn the paper after writing to my broken self and all. Said the book is not really about rape but about broken people..” Eli kept talking while David looked around the room.

“It’s almost like I know what I’m talking about.” He scoffed. “You’re crippled.” “Not dead.” Growled loudly, Silas took the arm wrests and turned my chair to face him. “You dare say that?” “You think fourteen years of learning combat strategies, knowing how to run training, how to translate workouts, look for weaknesses and strengths, you think that all just goes out the window because I can’t walk?” “It’s a physical disability, Silas. Not mental. The only one with a mental disability lately is you.”

Kayden — the rising star in the literary world, the renowned author of The Upward Gravity, A Spark in the Rubble, The Dawn Theory, Beyond the Script, and The Beautiful Unbecoming. Every one of his books had been a success. I had read them all. They were my only source of motivation during the darkest days of my life. I first met him years ago, completely by chance, in a coffee shop. I was sitting alone, lost in the pages of The Dawn Theory, scribbling my own theories in the margins of the book. I was so absorbed that I didn’t even notice the man across from me until he suddenly shifted seats and sat beside me.

"Isn't it obvious? I don't want to see you here." The woman snorted loudly, but her eyes were sharp. "You're just a burden. Useless. I don't want you here, trash should be grouped with trash immediately." My hands clenched tightly at her words. Pain... "You are completely useless to defend." I held the book and pen tightly, feeling a stab in my chest. Her voice pierced, and her words had a direct effect on me. I was hurt again just because of the disability I have. Because I couldn't talk, they told me to speak as a joke. Over and over again, I forced myself to; I couldn't make a sound.

And for him to come to the event, then he had other plans in motion. She lifted her chin as she replied to Clara, “Is that what you are hoping?” “Hoping is too far stretched. And I know it’s a struggle for you to accept it, but it’s happening.” Clara retorted. “Sister, let’s be practical. How possible is it for a disabled man like Alejandro to run a business like Mendoza Holdings? Or will his old parents do that? It does not even make sense. But of course, we could always make space for him to run a home for the crippled.” She chuckled and then turned to the other man that Elise only noticed was standing beside her. “My love is that not so?”

He gestured. “I don't need any constant reminder every day of my disability especially from others.” Rose spoke out this time not bothered that she couldn't hear her own voice. She recalled going to therapy during her childhood and nothing worked. Instead it was always a constant reminder that she wasn't born complete. She was born different and the truth always crushed her when she was only a little girl. She soon grew up to believing more in medical science than some fellow instructor talking about one's disability to them over and over again as if they weren't already aware they had a disability.

he cursed into the empty night. Struggling two kilometres with his wheelchair, halfway to his destination, he saw the steep road ahead of him. Not a single thought of retreat crossed his mind, refusing to succumb to the silent challenge ahead. Clenching his teeth, he pushed his strength again to conquer the obstacles in front of him, which in the past, he had sworn never to attempt foolishly like other disabled people who engaged in reckless races on steep slopes. "I am not a fighter! I am just a slave to the pen, a lifter of books, and a house guardian!"

Lisa continued probing. Yanny hesitated slightly before explaining, "Because I wear a hearing aid. I'm disabled, and they said I should go to a school for disabled children. I shouldn't be here. They say Mom must have done something terrible in the past, which was why I was born with a disability."