Fading Letters Novels & Stories

Trembling, he walked over and reached for the ring he had placed on my finger before witnesses. For seven years, I had never taken it off. But now, it was sitting here. He then picked up the paper, and the words "Divorce Agreement" stared back at him. His tears fell, staining the characters on the paper. That was my handwriting, etched into his soul. But those words felt like a knife to the heart. [I am willing to leave everything behind. Let us part ways with no hard feelings and never see each other again.] At the bottom, my signature was bold and resolute.

Thinking about what had happened to the previous partner, Gabriel offered a silent moment of sympathy for this business partner who had presented Jason with the tickets to the Twilight Dance Company's performance. Gabriel took a deep breath, mentally preparing for Jason to throw a tantrum. Unexpectedly, not only did Jason pick up the ticket, but he even looked at it in detail. Although the ticket was quite huge, the design was extremely minimal. Other than the main information, there were no further distracting designs.

She had woven a ring from a peach blossom stem, saying that one day, she would have Ian personally place it on her finger. Tears streamed down Ian's face as he clawed at the earth with his bare hands. Even as his fingernails split and bled, he didn't stop. Finally, the tin box, covered in dirt and rust, emerged once more. For the first time that night, a hopeful smile crossed Ian's face. But the moment he opened the capsule, his smile froze. Inside lay nothing but still-warm ashes. Among the charred remains of the letter, he could just barely make out the faint shadow of the words 'Bound for eternity.'

He learnt that she had many secrets that were never clear enough in any of the letters for him to figure out what it was she was hiding. He felt bad and wanted to know what was going on with her so he could help but he didn't know what he could possibly do without letting her know he knew something was up. If he did that, he would have to explain how he reads her letters without her knowing. He had started smoking more often because he couldn't figure out how to numb the choking feeling he felt every time he read her writing. Sometimes the letters were poems. The other day, one simply read: It's so much easier

Everyone in high society whispered that Tristan Webster kept a tame, submissive trophy girlfriend on his arm. That image shattered at a yacht party when a newcomer pointed at me and asked the room, "Wait, isn't she the legendary woman who slept with Tristan's best friends in one night just to get back at him for cheating?" The room fell dead silent. Tristan's childhood friends sat around the poker table, their expressions unreadable. Tristan, however, simply swirled the wine in his glass and lounged against the leather sofa before casually beckoning me over. "Come here." I walked over without a word and lit his cigarette for him. "Sorry, she caused such a scene back then," he said smoo

she blows a yellow powder in my face as she speaks I’m fading. Darkness covers me, creeping in like a damn insect And then, finally, everything goes black

I pick the pen inside the envelope and write five by the side of the paper and sluggishly down to my ass again. Sunsets fade red, and darkness spreads... Red! The participants uniform, I write it down. Amidst the ruins of love that's own... Hmm. Nothing. Skip. My head hurts; I rub it in circular motions and continue reading. Echoes of memories that refuse to go... Echoes, or memories, I write the two side by side. Fading every dream and hope is blind...Dream? It may be referring to loosing the word puzzle contest five times? Five times is a lot rather than a singular dream. I write every.

I started walking slowly, trying my best not to pass out. " Just a little bit more Ara, hold on for a bit. ", I mumbled to myself I dragged myself to the river as I felt my body was slowly going to collapse. My vision started to blur, my eyelids getting heavy, my head spinning crazily, I couldn't feel my body any longer. Am I dying ? I totally lost myself and my body dropped to the ground, I could feel the cold water hitting my skin, all the noises in the background slowly fading away.

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Then it sank in and went black, and the whole column shivered from my wrist to my elbow like water in a cup on a moving cart, and every letter in it went pale at once. “It is working,” Rhys said. “Wren, look. It is fading.” “That is not fading.” “It is fading; I can see it going.” “That is clearing,” I said. “That is a page being cleared.” And it went white. All of it, wrist to elbow, clean as a swept floor, and for one second I had my own arm back. Then, in the middle of it, one line at a time, in a hand with a flat R and a crossed seven, unhurried, as though there were all the time in the world and always had been: