Eight Years Novels & Stories

I avoided each of their faces, I wouldn't want to see the hurt in there. “ Oh! Why? I really would like to spend today with you, I mean you weren't even there for me when I clock 8?” I snapped my eyes to stare at Shane shocked “ You are eight? ” I asked him surprised, the last time I checked he was seven years old. How come he's eight now? “ Of course. I couldn't celebrate my birthday because you were in coma” Shane replied as tears spilled down his face. I went over to hug him even when I knew he was guilt tripping me into going out with him.

That was the only part of essay writing she scored higher in than Janet. Speaking of Janet, she just loved hearing about all the adventures she had encountered with over the weekend, to her best friend, sex wasn't a big deal. From final year boys in university to the SS3 boys she called lame, she did them all. Na smalls, she would grin, before quoting her signature sentence, 'Being 18 has its perks'.

Ryder looked at the ceiling. He thought. He looked at his notebook. He wrote a number. He turned the notebook toward Nova. She read it. She looked at Jax. He read it. The kitchen was completely still. The number Ryder had written was not seven. It was not eleven. It was considerably larger than either. “Eight hundred years,” Blake said. He had apparently been listening the whole time. He was still drinking his orange juice. “A lot can happen in eight hundred years.” He said it the way he said everything — directly, without drama, as an obvious truth that the room had apparently needed someone to state.

“So… does that mean when I grow up, I can use knowledge to protect the people I love? Even without fighting?” For a moment, I didn’t know what to say. This boy wasn’t speaking like a child who should be chasing kites and eating candy. He was threading questions most men his father’s age couldn’t even ask. My chest tightened, and before I knew it, the words slipped out. “How old are you, Ramson?” He blinked, then grinned proudly. “I’m eight.” Eight? My brows shot up. “You’re joking.” “No,” he laughed, shaking his head. “I really am eight. Why? Do I look older?”

a little hooligan echoed. At this time, Eleanor was only about seven or eight years old, and even though her face was dirty, it was not hard to see her original delicacy. She rolled her eyes and snorted, “What do you mean, hanging out with other men? That’s my little brother! That’s a boy, a boy!” She repeated it, panting, “The two of you are eighteen, and I am only eight! I don’t even know what I like or not! Besides, there’s a ten-year age difference between us — an old cow eats young grass!”

“Laura, I hope you’re happy, housing your father… You're such a big girl now. But for how long?” I knew where this was heading. Marriage. This… this is why I moved out. “I have lost my appetite. I'm going to bed.” The lazy noise of the chair against the floor made my exit even harsher. “You have a suitor, Laurabeth!” my mother wailed from her seat. “I have millions of suitors for you who would help us solve the problem of our bankruptcy, yet you reject them!” Father yelled. “Because I am eighteen and I just graduated high school, Mum! What would the neighbors say? What would-”

"Christine, don't leave me. I know I was wrong. I realized it too late. Let me love you. Give me a chance to make things right." But I stayed still, unmoved. "It's too late. I'm tired." His brows furrowed as he stepped closer. "Eight years ago, you crawled into my bed, got pregnant, and married me. And now you want to walk away? Is this some kind of push-and-pull game?" I stared at him in disbelief. I'd thought he finally understood. But the way he saw me… was still just as selfish as ever.

Dad watched in silence, then lifted his glass and whispered to the empty place, "Danny, happy new year." Joe and Lyra followed in unison, "Danny, happy new year." Outside, the fireworks bloomed again, lighting the sky with the same brilliance and joy as last year. Only I was gone forever. That snow at the rest stop had frozen an eight-year-old me to death—and with me, it had frozen a family's heart. Some mistakes could be mended, some wounds forgiven, but some losses remained forever. Melted snow never returned to its first shape, and a vanished life never returned to those who had loved it.

she said and I smiled as I nodded slowly. "Me too" I replied with a sad smile. "How's school?!" I asked. "School is good, I'm taking some special self-defense classes" she added excitedly. "I hope it's not strenuous," I asked. "I could ask Auntie Katie to cancel!" I added. "What am I Eight?!" "I'm in the university for crying out loud," she said and I laughed. "I'm sorry I didn't realize you were that old already" "Well now you know, and I can take care of myself"

I asked him for confirmation. “No, ma’am. I am Eight. I turned three days ago. And now I am going to miss my best friend’s birthday. She and the mister that came to visit us were going to bake a cake and he was bringing ice cream to celebrate.” Matus said, lighting up, talking about his time back at the orphanage. Before, sadness clouded his facial features again. “Umm, Matus?” I began, wanting to ask if he was sane. “Matus, how is it that you look so much older than eight?” I asked him in the most warm, sweet voice I could muster.