Broken Strings Book Novels & Stories

“The question is why. And who’s doing it.” I couldn’t answer. My eyes were fixed on a single line we had copied down before the page disintegrated in our hands. “…when the stone shattered, so too did the chains. But not all chains break clean…” The words trembled on the parchment. Chains. Broken, but not gone. We left the library before dusk, our arms laden with what scraps we dared carry. The silence of the place clung to me like cobwebs as we stepped back into the sunlight.

Asking with her warmest voice if everything was alright with Daniel. I thought about the ring on my finger. About October and Tuscany and a hillside and the life that had been sitting in front of me for months bright and real and completely mine. And I felt something crack. Not loudly. That was the thing about the most significant breakings. They did not announce themselves. They just gave way. Quietly. The way ice gave way under weight it was never meant to hold. Something between us that had existed my entire life. Cracking down the center.

Why was she hung up on this? ”Hey, Lydia,” I nudged her shoulder which seemed to get her out of whatever trans she was in. ”Yeah?” ”Flip the page,” I said and gestured to the book. Lydia cleared her throat and flipped the page. The words were faded to such an extent that it was nearly impossible to read them. There was that branch again only this time it was broken in the middle with thorns sticking out on each side. They were a faded red which seemed to symbolize blood.

The silence was punctuated only by our quiet murmurs, our shared yearning for a past we never knew, a future we desperately wished for. Later, amidst the twisted metal and rubble, James stumbled upon a tattered book, its cover mostly torn away, revealing only a few words—'The Chronicles of Atheria'. The title alone conjured images of a world far removed from our own, a place of magic and wonder, of brave knights and epic quests. The pages, brittle with age and decay, contained fragmented stories, glimpses of a civilization that had flourished before the catastrophe. It spoke of vibrant cities, of advanced technology, and of a society that lived in harmony with its environment.

I couldn't stop thinking about how Jack called me a slut and how Aubrey just completely left me for dead out there. It’s not like any of this was really even my fault. After what felt like hours of more crying, I finally managed to fall asleep. ~3 hours later~ The sound of something banging against my window catches me by surprise, having me immediately jolt awake as fear begins to engulf me. What the fuck was that? I grow still against my sheets as the sound repeats itself, this time sounding more like a sequence of patterns. Is somebody here? Slowly, I make my way over to my window before slowly pushing open my blinds. Jack?!

Jaymianne asked her secretary whilst placing another tea. Cheslea crouched beside her and held her hands. She smiled, reassuring that her boss deserved everything accomplished in her life. "What makes you think that?" "I don't have siblings and my parents died leaving the bankrupt company to me. My life has become a mess ever since I met that man." "You deserve everything, Jayme. The money that passed to you and the company you restored. We don't have much staff but we still operate because of the clients who trusted you so don't think that you aren't worthy of your achievements."

Just before returning home, she had subtly, almost pitifully, hinted that Charles should consider investing in Oscar's business. But Charles had already done his research. Oscar's company was crumbling from the inside out—glossy on the surface, hollow within. It was but a failing empire clinging to past glories. "Charles, I'm still hungry," Maya said, crumbs clinging to the corners of her lips. Charles chuckled and leaned in, wiping them away. She froze, a flicker of emotion flashing across her face before she quickly turned away. "I can do it myself," she mumbled, embarrassed.

When I first saw her, the first thought that came to my mind was — I want to be happy with her. My knuckles cracked as I curled my fingers into fists. “You cannot break what’s already broken.” “Maybe, but I can shatter the already broken into dust, can’t I?” She summoned a book in her hand. “Found this in your library. Book of curses and torture. I suppose this book was your creation, wasn’t it?” She leafed through its pages. “It has all kinds of tortures, including magical, excluding magical, mental, physical, emotional… It has the whole freaking variety.”

Authors live and breathe by your words, and your thoughts help other readers find books that might change their lives the way this one changed mine. If you're currently walking through your own devastation, ehether that's grief, betrayal, heartbreak, or just the quiet desperation of feeling lost, please know: you're not alone. Your story isn't over. The most beautiful chapters might be waiting just ahead. Don't give up. Don't quit on love. Don't stop believing that broken things can become breathtaking if they're not toxic or life-threatening. Because they can. You can. Thank you for reading. Thank you for believing. Thank you for being part of this journey. Thank you for subscribing, unlock

“And it looks like you’re doing that, so…” “You leaving is what hurt me!” I seethe, anger sinking its claws deeper into me at his pathetic justification for his actions. “And I’m not damaged, Callum, I’m broken! You broke me!” My voice cracks, my chest heaving as I shake my head, fresh tears springing to my eyes. My gaze flutters down to the pavement, my voice dropping to barely a whisper. “You broke me in ways that I didn’t even know were possible.” Callum’s throat clicks with a hard swallow, his shoes scuffing against the ground as he steps closer. “Ness…”