Confusion Will Be My Epitaph Novels & Stories

And then the words escaped my mouth. "I have congestive heart failure... I'm dying, Williams..."

His eyes, clouded with the shadows of mortality, met mine in a gaze that seemed to pierce through the veil of uncertainty. He whispered subtly, his voice a mere murmur in the vast silence, "Your destiny is to die by the moon disease." The words, heavy with the weight of fate, hit me like a tidal wave. A lump formed in my throat, a bitter cocktail of fear and disbelief. Die by the moon disease—my destiny encapsulated in the morbidity of those words.

older woman nodded her head and her gaze fell on Roslyn again. “Is Pa getting any better?” asked Roslyn as she stared at her sleeping father. He looked much older, with visible wrinkles on his face; Roslyn’s mother said nothing for a minute, she glance at her husband too with an inaudible sigh. Well, thank God he’s still breathing.” She began, “often he gets confused about his environment, and he can’t get out of bed without my help. Your Pa doesn’t eat much and he hardly sleeps at night he only sleeps when he feels less pain.” Mrs. Williams began to tear up; she fumbled for a handkerchief in her bag and wipes away her coral eyes. The agony she feels in her heart had gotten to her face and

I never heard of any of that. I just lost Elon. And what I was feeling right now is not a joke. I’m dying inside. I know I lost my mate. I know Elon is my mate. Why will I be confuse? I know I’m sure, but there’s a question in my head that I wanted to find answers to. But what is the question? I don’t know what I’m looking for and its hard to answer a question that doesn’t exist. Right. Maybe there is no question, it does not exist. And I shouldn’t be having any confusion because there is nothing to be confused about.

Burn it down and make sure no one has the right to cover it up. I clicked send then closed my l aptop... and waited for Leo's kingdom to burn but why the fuck am I feeling this stupid tiny guilt at the depth of my heart

She covered it and screamed, "Why? Why?! Fiona owes me! She owes me all of this in the first place!" She wept bitterly, the sound heart-wrenchingly loud. Aside from the police officers, however, no one would wrap their arms around her and console her this time. After the case was solved, Tom was persecuted and then sentenced to death. My body was brought home, to be cremated before being buried. Many guests came to my funeral. My friends, classmates, and even teachers attended. They cried their hearts out and talked about our lives together in front of my photo. As my parents listened, the regret on their faces grew clearer and clearer.

At the bottom of the page, written in jagged, hurried strokes of dark ink, was a single sentence that sent a paralyzing chill straight to my core: “If I ever forget the truth… don't let me trust my own memories.”