Dear 2045 Novels & Stories

But the next day, he was found dead in his living room. He had finally given up. He left behind a letter and ended his life with the same dangerous combination that nearly killed me—cephalexin and alcohol. When I returned home, the police gave me the envelope. Inside it was a brief note filled with apologies and well wishes. "I'm sorry, Grace. I was wrong. I hope you find happiness. Congratulations on your marriage. If there's a next life, I hope I'll be the one to chase after you." But if there was indeed a next life, I never wanted to meet him again.

"To whom?⁠" "​It’s n⁠ot going to a person," Marcu‌s said, his brow furro‍wed‌. "It’s go​i‌ng to an automated⁠ respons⁠e server in Z‌urich. The one that was sup‍p⁠osed to⁠ have been​ decommission​ed after the V‌anc⁠e estate was liquidat⁠ed. It’s n⁠ot just a signal—it’s a coun⁠t​down.​"

button. What else did he want? Hadn’t everything been settled at the reunion? Finally, I opened the message. [Aisha, I know you might not want to hear from me. But I just want to say, I wasn't lying about what I felt. If you’re willing, I’d like to meet again. Just to talk. I’m in Paris until the end of the week.]

Soon, the downpour subsided, leaving only the earthy fragrance of damp soil in the air. As the car drove into the city, I noticed the road was unfamiliar. I finally asked, "Where are you taking me?" Hearing my words, Lucas was startled. Then, he said stiffly, "I found a place for you near the company. You can live there." A sense of dread surged within me. Still, I suppressed my anger and forced myself to stay calm as I continued to ask, "What about the house my parents left me?" Lucas didn't answer.

The lonely, yet stunningly beautiful death or simply Sebastian, ran his fingers through his long thick black hair. Bright citrine eyes surrounded by rich black lashes glance across the bare landscape. The year 1245 a.d. Sebastian once again is late to save his soulmate. He always finds them, male or female, moments after their death. He rubbed his eyes and kneeled down next to the young woman that had been crushed to death by a stampede of buffaloes. He gritted his teeth and cursed the fates.

Needs to feel real. Dear Violet, I start. Then stop. What do I say to that woman? The one whose world just ended? The one who thought her life was over? I start again. Dear Violet, It's me. You. Three years in the future. And I know right now you're standing in that living room thinking your life is over. Thinking you'll never breathe normally again. Thinking the pain will never end. I'm writing to tell you that you're wrong. And right. And everything in between.

So, back to reality. January 5th 2035, I used to like beginnings, meeting new people, trying new things but not anymore. I'm just sick and tired of my pathetic life. I've befriended death so many times but he just keeps rejecting me. Life hasn't been kind either so I don't know, I'm just living in my own world hanging between life and death waiting patiently for one to just embrace me and be good to me. Oh well, seems like that's not gonna happen anytime soon.

It seems absurd that something so small can hold so much power. I turn it on and the screen flickers to life with a pixelated logo. I open the messages. I open a new text to the saved number. My thumbs hover over the keypad. Sector 4. The Old Iron Works. 2:00 PM. I type it. The letters stare back at me. A death sentence in black and white. I stare at the send button. This is it. The exit ramp. The moment I’ve been fantasizing about since the day I woke up in his bed with a ring on my finger. No more bruises. No more breeding appointments. No more fear.

"Phera, listen. I can't go into details. But what I can say, with absolute certainty, is that they love you. To the universe and beyond. You need to confront them about whatever is it that you want to know. This is between mates." The phrase "between mates" reverberated through me, settling in the pit of my stomach like a dormant volcano, dormant but not extinct. I ended the call as I pulled into the expansive parking lot of ADZ Corp. The texts were still there on my phone screen, three separate doors leading back into a maze of memories and questions, each begging for resolution. "Mates," I whispered to myself as I stared at the towering edifice ahead of me. Nate's words swirled around in m

*** “Dear Don, I wished you’d buy another blanket with all the money you spend on expensive gifts so that you would stop snatching mine. Your lovingly annoyed wife, Aquamarine.” -The End-