Faded Ink Novels & Stories

Random letters typed themselves across my tits in real time, the smudged ink ribbon dragging black streaks over pale flesh, marking my nipples, my cleavage, my collarbone with gibberish that looked like ecstatic code. He fucked me harder. Faster. The mechanical clacking grew frantic matching the wet slap of his balls against my ass, the obscene squelch of my cunt clenching on nothing. Ink smeared everywhere: across my breasts, dripping down my sides, staining the desk. My body became the page.

"How did you do this? What exactly is that reaction?" I simply smirked, tilting my head back to meet his intense, golden gaze. "It is a basic botanical reduction reaction, Alpha Blackwood. The sap of this specific leaf remains entirely neutral against cured, historic ink that has sat and dried for days. However, it violently reacts with active, unevaporated moisture. The fact that this text just turned a vivid purple proves a definitive, irrefutable chemical truth... this specific ink was brewed, handled, and written within the last twenty-four hours."

​The Battle of the Margin ​Kael channeled the eighty years of his "Muted" life—the decades of silence that the "Author" had skipped over in a few sentences. He forced the Ink-Man to experience the Boredom, the Un-Narrated Pain, and the Slow Decay of a life lived in the shadows of the main plot. ​The Ink-Man recoiled. The manuscript pages that made up its skin began to curl and char as if exposed to a direct flame. ​"This... this is not in the outline!" the entity hissed, its obsidian eyes flickering.

The brothers were quick to comfort her, dabbing at her tears with tissues. Seeing how much they cared for her, I did not feel like arguing anymore. I went back to my room in silence, took down the drawing of the four of us that the brothers had made, and cut it up. Then, I found a lighter and watched as the picture turned to ash. Years of feelings disappeared with the flames. … I lay in bed, put in my earplugs, and blocked out the happy noise from outside. I soon drifted off into a deep sleep. It was the first time in a long while that I did not dream about the brothers.

Sure enough, there was a dark ink stain on the back. A flicker of panic flashed across Joy’s face, but she quickly recovered and snapped, "That blot came from my pen. You probably saw it earlier and decided to claim it as yours." That seemed plausible enough, and the crowd began to murmur in agreement. But Stellar let out a sharp chuckle. "Ah, I forgot to mention that this isn’t just any ink. The one I used has a distinct scent of lavender. You’re welcome to smell it yourselves." A few people stepped closer out of curiosity, leaned in, and took a sniff.

"Fine, you make the call. I'm old now. It's time for me to retire and enjoy life." A short while after the operation, Chester died. Harold and Linda hastily organized his funeral. That day, as I lay on the hospital bed, Ruby asked me, "Are you going to his funeral? I heard after what happened at the wedding, the Caldwells suffered a great blow. There was a massive reshuffle in Caldwell Group, and the management now consists only of those Whitney trusts. "It's Chester's funeral today. I heard only a few attended… When one's no longer in power, people no longer care. It's quite a pitiful sight."

Jake They all hushed after Kari turned on music using her phone, their paint brushes coating the wall in a muted teal. Jake stayed close to Kari, making small talk here and there, loving the concentration on her face as she painted. He looked up as Drake walked in, the closest friend in Bar Harbor he’d made at the small gym where he’d spent many nights trying to purge the memories of Bethany from his mind. “Someone call for a help?” Drake stopped at the door, his hands on his hips as he looked around.

Everyone's eyes were stuck on her she was wearing, a yellow frock, covering her bottom legs and coming to her calf, showing her legs less, that was open neck dres, its neck was stretched to her shoulders, and her hair was covering most of her neck area. Faith doesn't like these kinds of dresses but today Marry wants her to wear this. She came out of a huge and expensive car, and most of the students who studied here were rich and some of them were who came here on scholarship. She walks and keeps her head and eyes down. " Take care....," Mr. Blake said from the car, she turn and wave her hand to him, he drives the car, and she again walks quickly to hide from the eyes of the populace.

"He doesn't get to do that. Kiss you like the world's ending and then throw you out the second his career gets threatened. That's not how this works." I didn't say anything, but Jen was right. The days after that felt strange. Like I was living a little behind everyone else. I went to lectures, took notes, even though I couldn’t remember writing most of them afterward. At first, I kept checking my phone. Every buzz made my heart jump up into my throat, only for me to see it was Jennifer, a reminder, or nothing important at all. Somehow, that felt worse. The girls at lunch had gone quiet around me too. Whatever excitement had made me interesting for a little while had faded.

She replied, "The red ink pen in the office." I started laughing harder. "You mean the indelible red ink pen in the office that will not come off." She looked horrified and then started laughing hysterically. "Just please fuck me good for my attempt to be creative." I did. Brittney's personality always kept me off balance. Most people have a business face and a personal face. Brittney's was more than that. One day I bought three yellow roses from a peddler at a stoplight. When Brittney came home the roses were in a small crystal vase on the kitchen table.