Fading Letters Novels & Stories

In my previous life, my boyfriend's female best friend, Yvette Larson, decided to play a cruel prank on the firefighters with a few of her friends. They deliberately set off the fire alarm in our apartment complex and filled one of the rooms with smoke. "When the fire trucks get here, we'll hide and film them scrambling around trying to rescue everyone. This is going to go viral!" I did everything I could to stop them. I warned Yvette that they were wasting emergency resources and could even cause a stampede. However, she called me a buzzkill, and my boyfriend accused me of sticking my nose where it did not belong. Hence, I secretly called the property management office and tipped them of

Let's end this. ***

There's something about that detail that hits harder than it should. I pull the letter out, unfold it, and for a second I just... hold it, my fingers brushing over the ink, noticing where it's pressed deeper in some places, lighter in others. He crossed out a lot of words. Typos, probably. That feels more personal than I'm ready for. "Okay," I whisper anyway, more to steady myself than anything else. Then I start reading. "An, Ana, Annie, Stass, Stassie, Sia,

Those simple sentences kept echoing in Emmett's mind. All at once, it felt like he had been cursed. Those words echoed in his mind so much that a sharp pain spread across his forehead. The immense pain left him devoid of any strength. With a loud thud, his phone fell and slammed onto the table. Unfortunately, Emmett had tied the candlesticks with thin threads to ensure an even distance between each. One candlestick fell, pulling on the threads and causing the others to fall over, too. Hot flames spread onto the dead leaves and feathers on the ground. It then traveled toward the wooden dominoes.

​As they fell into the emptiness, the sound of the engine disappeared, replaced by a scary sound that echoed from the very bottom of the white space. ​It was the sound of a metal typewriter carriage slamming back into place with a sharp, echoing DING, and the sudden terrible realization that the white space they were falling through wasn't empty. ​Right below their falling bodies, billions of black metal letters, each as big as a skyscraper were rapidly rising out of the void like a forest of sharp spikes forming themselves into a giant inescapable sentence that was waiting to hit them on the very first word of the rewrite. ​And as the letters rushed up to meet them Elara saw the shape of th

None apart from this. The surging is this. The welling is this. The flashing is this. No separation. The emotion subsides. Joy fades. Sorrow eases. Anger cools. All within this. None apart from this. The fading is this. The easing is this. The cooling is this. No separation. Every rise is this. Every fall is this. Every peak is this. Every valley is this. Every middle is this. No separation. The light that is. The love that is.

The sweet goodbye letter I had written for Elysia. The audience waited patiently. Some guests were already dabbing their eyes, expecting something heartfelt. I lifted the microphone. The metal felt cold against my fingers. I opened the paper. The words looked… blurry and my heart lurched. “I…” I started. My voice cracked. “I prepared something to say tonight.” My eyes struggled to focus on the paper, but the letters refused to stay still. They melted into dark shapes.My chest tightened painfully. Was I crying or was my eyesight getting worse again?

Kell and the others must see my distress because they reach for me but can’t quite touch me. I can see their lips moving, but I can’t hear a thing. I’m not able to move my mouth at all at this point. All I can do is stand there horrified as I watch the glow move up my neck and change into floating letters. The best way to describe it is like when you buy a can of alphabet soup and the letters float around the top. That’s what the words look like as they separate into letters and flow up my body. My vision begins to fade as the glow moves up my neck, nose, and eyes. Then the world goes black.

At 8:59 am tomorrow, send the electronic version of this joint lawsuit to everyone via company email. After hanging up, I texted Alexander, "Apologies, Mr. Langley. I'll only be able to give you the final response in 22 hours. However, I guarantee you'll witness the most thorough corporate purge you've ever seen."

Just clocked out. My bestie, Chloe, texted. Begging me to go wild with her at a bar. I collapsed onto my bed. Exhausted. “No way. My legs are jelly. I can’t tonight.” I splashed some water on my face and stared at my reflection. Pale. Drained. Suddenly, I knew I needed a release. Anything to forget my inhuman, tyrant werewolf boss. I grabbed my phone again, ready to text Chloe. I wanted to type: “My whole body aches. No energy for the bar. I desperately need a rough, deep-tissue massage session tonight.” But my brain was fried. I just typed: “Just need a rough, deep session tonight.” Five minutes later, my screen lit up. But it wasn't a message from Chloe. It was from my cold, untouchable A