Desperation Novels & Stories

Desperation laced his breath. He wanted her to respond and that was what she did the least. Her head was not lifted to look up at him, to see his desperate pools of Grey’s nor did she care. She was broken from the inside. She felt pain very deep in her chest as if somebody had cut it with a sword.

but my very spirit endlessly perverted by speculation concerning whatever delirious dance this upstart pretender and I are enacting upon the stage? I'm panting like a winded cur by the climax of this maddening self-interrogation. Every pulse pounding with the seething refusal to let this ridiculously inflated farce go any further. To allow my transcendent destiny among legends to remain forever toxified by a poisonous infatuation for my sworn enemy.

I said, feeling both annoyed and bitter at the same time. "You think I'm doing this because I would love to get married and leave you here in this poverty?" I said, my voice hard. "You think I would want to get married to someone who almost killed my sister, when I should be jabbing at his lungs for almost taking you away from me?" I sniffed and continued. "Cynthia, come to think of it. If I didn't do this, what other way is there to help mum and bring her back to life? "She's been in that condition for eight goddamn years", I thundered, stressing 'months'.

I plant my feet, grit my teeth, and try to summon whatever it is he’s looking for. Nothing happens. I hit the ground again, harder this time. My frustration boils over. "Damn it!" "Anger is good," he says calmly. "But you need more." I glare up at him. "Like what?" His gaze softens—just slightly. "Desperation." A chill runs through me. "Think about it," he continues, voice lower now, almost gentle. "What happened that night in your apartment? You thought you were going to die. You had no other option. That’s when it happened."

The single word landed like a hammer. The fire crackled. Rain continued tapping against the window. The world kept moving. Yet everything had changed. Lyra stared at him. “Why?” The brother looked up. And for the first time… I saw genuine despair. Not fear. Not guilt. Despair. The kind that comes after you’ve exhausted every option. After you’ve tried everything. After you’ve run out of answers. “It won’t stay closed.” The words barely escaped him. Lyra froze. The brother laughed hollowly.

“If we walk in there like this, we won’t make it ten steps.” I took a step forward anyway. “Zanny,” he warned. “I see it,” I said, my eyes still fixed on the territory ahead. “I know what this is.” “Then act like it.” “I am.” He grabbed my arm before I could take another step, his grip firm but not painful. “This isn’t courage,” he said, turning me to face him again. “This is desperation.” “Same thing,” I shot back. “No,” he said, his voice dropping dangerously low. “Courage keeps you alive. Desperation gets you killed.”

Desperation is a powerful catalyst. That much is a fact! I had never been a religious wolf, having always believed in strength, in steel, and in the sharp edge of fangs. But as I felt my life force draining into the moss, I looked up through the canopy of the oak tree at the silver orb of the moon. "Please," I croaked in desperation. "Moon Goddess... Mother of all that is supernatural. I don't care about my life. I don't care about the revenge. Just save him. Don't let him pay for his father’s sins. Give him a breath. Please."

Desperately. The battle raged. Reality convulsed. The between-space shattered and reformed and shattered again. And the rescue party waited. Helpless. Desperate. Hoping. Hoping the philosopher could win. Could defeat Hunger. Could free Hope. Hoping. Desperately. Absolutely. Hoping.

The ocean of tears that swirl out of her eyes was merciless as it drown every ounce of happiness that could remain in her, not even bothering to give her a left over she could hold onto. As she walked past people on the road, she was met with so many eyes that spoke volume, but she was too carried away to have the time to mind their stares, mostly glares. She walked very slowly,unable to work more than that or she would collapse on the road. She was utterly depressed and broken. She managed to get home after spending an hour on the way and could no longer walk properly. She dragged her feet along on the lawn in front of their building. She sniffed as she slogged inside and closed the door be

No one know what desperation can do to people. “Therefore, we’re screwed,” I said. “Yeah,” he replied, sighing in dejection.