Every Last Word Book Novels & Stories

That was all. I flipped the page, searching for the ingredients. There they were. My grandmother had written them down. I stared at the list. Every ingredient. Every measurement. Every warning. My eyes moved to the final sentence. ‘If the White Wolf carries the curse marks and labor has begun, there may be little time.’

*** When I woke up, Johan was sitting on the edge of the bed, shirtless and smoking. He heard me move and looked back. A check landed on the bed in front of me. I stared at it. He only said a few words. "I'm bored with you." Something inside me cracked. Like porcelain shattering, sharp pieces cut across my heart. Still, my voice came out calm. I even smiled. "I've got less than three months left. Couldn't you wait a little longer?" Johan frowned. "Yara Yelton, you should know your place."

Bianca was flustered when she saw my expression. She jerked her hand back, forgetting about the raised setting of the ring on her finger. The paper tore with a loud rip. The phone was still recording with its camera pointed straight at the cutting board. The ring setting caught on the edge of the recipe page and ripped a long tear through it. It was the last recipe my mother had written for me from her hospital bed before she died. Stains left by her medication were still visible in the corner. “Oh no!” Bianca cried out. Her elbow struck backward.

--- 🌀 Final Words > There is no such thing as a forgotten name. Only names waiting to be spoken again. Speak them. Be the mouth of the sky. --- A final whisper from the river, from Mira, and from every voice that once stood against silence. Would you like a beautifully formatted version of the full book, with this as the closing page?

I took the piece of paper from him and nodded, "Yes, sir." Ezekiel dismissed us, and we left his office, relieved that it was over. Later in the afternoon, Aiden, Penelope, and I sat down together at one table during lunchtime, I couldn't help but notice the excitement in Penelope's eyes as she held a worn-out book in her hands. "What's that book you've got there?" Aiden asked, looking over at her. "It's the last known book of witches," Penelope said, beaming with joy.

I need the distraction so I clear my throat and begin. “The buh… bee… beast sttt aa… ree… The beast stared into the eyes of his Goddess and cloooo … seeee duhh… closed his eyes … for the … last time,” I say, then blink rapidly. I look up at all the males staring as my lip quivers on its own. “But… wasn’t he the last one? So if they all died who wrote the book,” I ask, since it seems like the obvious question. I flip to the front where I know the name is usually found, but there’s nothing.

I apologized but he said nothing. I quickly walked into his library and I was amazed at how things are arranged in there... I walked along the walkway and I used my hand to brush through the book taking a glance at them. Then one book caught my attention.. It is titled 'The last survivors by King Jaywon' and there was a stain of blood in the picture... It is gonna be really horrific. I walked to where a reading table was placed and I placed the book on it. And I then proceeded to clean the Library.. There is even a fireplace and I am imagining how beautiful it will look reading beside the fireplace on a cold night. When I was done taking care of the library. I checked the time and it was fif

It tasted like the night we carved our names into wood and believed wood could outlast empires. It tasted like the valley I will never reach and the children whose names I still whisper to the stars. If anyone ever finds this diary, tell them the last safe word worked. It just took sixty years for the right creatures to hear it. Tell them two teenagers invented a silly word because they thought the universe had no imagination. Tell them the universe listened harder than we ever did. Tell them a boy kept a pomegranate in his fist until it bled through his fingers and still never said the word.

You made sure I came out triumphant in this exchange. During a signing event, a young reader asked me, "Did the guy really vanish in the end, Ms. Gray? Was the system real?" My hand touched the deformed brooch on my chest, and I smiled. "Perhaps not, but their love was true." I had a dream that night, a dream where I was in my college's library. The sun was shining golden, its warmth just right. A young man in a white shirt was holding a finance book in his hand as he frowned at a candlestick chart. When he noticed me approaching, he raised his head. Soon, a familiar, silly grin bloomed on his lips.

I smiled sincerely and turned away from the prison. After seeing Vivian for the last time, I would never need to see her again in this life. She would disappear from my world forever. And my world would finally see the warmth of spring.