Faded Ink Novels & Stories

I fell, and things scattered even more. James grabbed the back of my collar, and with a tearing sound, my shirt was in tatters. The shirt was the same one I wore yesterday, and after three years, it tore easily with a gentle pull. "Mr. Gates, please have some self-restraint." I covered myself, my tone a bit harsh, but luckily it was just the back that tore. But that was the only shirt I had left, and I hadn't had the chance to buy a new one.

He'd never really considered it beyond the vague notion that had led to him giving himself a Mark that would prevent him from being seeded. Ink held up the vial of ink he was working on. It was the right consistency and color. It just needed a little while to sit so that the components had time to fully fuse together. Stoppering the vial and dropping it into the rack on his work table, Ink stood and stretched. Maybe he'd take a walk on deck to clear his head before he got to work on the actual Marking.

“...under the cold sun, there comes a fair lady falling from the sky. The maiden lay there basking under the heated sun, upon her arrival, the trees made way. A huge gust of wind came waving in arc, cutting everything it touches. The tree…” The words after that were faded by the multiple words it got mashed up in before this page. It probably got wet and the ink went through some of the pages. I flipped through the pages of the book gently, and all of the words were mashed up together with the words before the page just like the old yellowish paper I’m holding. I opened the other books, not minding the dust that flew in each book I opened. They had the same condition – faded, ink mashed up t

"Melody! Melody, wake up! Didn't you say we'd go see the aurora together? Melody!" He held my body that was slowly growing colder, screaming out my name. He sobbed in despair, crying like his heart was being ripped apart. Then, just like when we were twenty-four, he held me close and proclaimed. "Wait for me, Melody! I promise I'll marry you!" I said, okay. - After the cremation, Evan brought my ashes back to Lake Namco. I'd told him that I wanted this to be my final resting place, after all.

Chadwick's POV I couldn’t even focus on the ink. The student scripts were spread across my mahogany desk like a graveyard of mediocre thoughts, but the words were blurring into a mess of gray lines. I was holding my fountain pen so tight I could feel the tension in my forearm, and then snap. The barrel gave way. Dark blue ink bled all over my palm, staining my skin like a bruise. I didn't even swear. I just stared at it.

The fountain pen’s nib scratched against the heavy vellum, a sound that felt like a blade scraping over bone in the silence of the fiftieth-floor office. Kael Ardent watched the dark blue ink bleed into the signature line, cementing a partnership that was as much a death warrant as it was a salvation. Outside the floor-to-ceiling glass walls, the city of Oakhaven was a blur of neon and rain, but inside, the air was stagnant, thick with the heavy, predatory scent of cedarwood and sharpening ozone.

Castiel looked up. "What does that mean?" "I don't know yet." Bobby studied the page more closely, his years working around contracts and handwritten manuscripts had taught him something valuable. Ink aged. Paper aged. People rarely noticed when the two aged differently. He leaned closer, the first few names on the page had softened over time. The ink had sunk naturally into the fibers. Rowena's entry hadn't. It wasn't obvious, only subtle. As though the strokes rested slightly higher than the surrounding text.

​The galley-truck buckled, its iron tracks snapping and spinning out into the void as the entire machine began to disintegrate into a cloud of meaningless backslashes and punctuation errors. ​But the victory was short-lived. ​The explosion of data strings didn't just destroy the Printer; it shattered the structural integrity of the ink-hand beneath her. The massive fingers began to lose their density, the midnight-blue fluid unspooling into long, vertical threads of loose code that drifted apart in the howling wind. ​Elara felt the gravity flip once more. The ink-hand dissolved completely, leaving her falling through a completely frictionless, soundless void that was rapidly bleaching from d

I hear Asher scream in playful surprise and Lucien’s voice boom down the hallway, “Give us a second! We’re dealing with something.” The scented candle on my table illuminates my room a bit so I’m not bothered. I throw the card on the table, frustrated when the candle nearby flickers. The edge of the card warms slightly, and for a second, something appears. It’s reactive ink that responds to heat! I sit back down on my desk and hold the card closer to the flame. How had I not thought of that? God, I feel so stupid. The ink on the card becomes clearer, and it shows…numbers?

My laughter grew, shaking my smoke-choked lungs until I coughed up blood. I staggered to my feet, my vision blurring, and began to dance amidst the flames. My skirt swirled as I surrendered my body and tears to the inferno. The fire devoured everything, reducing my art, my dreams, and my heart to ash. That night, a headline shook the city. [Prodigy artist Gail Maddox perishes in gallery blaze, her body burned beyond recognition.]