Fading Words Novels & Stories

Her soft voice broke the silence. “There are disappointments, but no…, I don’t regret the choice.” She walked to the calendar and tore off the final page of the countdown. Her voice was steady but resolute as she murmured, “Let’s go.” As soon as the words left her lips, she watched her body begin to fade. She raised her hand, staring as her transparent fingers began to dissolve, bit by bit. The ethereal glow spread to her arms, legs, and then her entire body.

The amount mixed wasn't enough to affect much but with a first timer or somebody who has zero tolerance can get affected. Roy cursed under his breath and raised his head to look around―in hopes of catching his friends or Sasha but unfortunately he saw nobody nearby. The music was loud and Roy didn't waste time uselessly shouting. Finally deciding to do things that will help, Roy strayed away from the dancing couples and took Jeremy out of the gym―in the campus pathway to get some fresh air. Jeremy shook his head a few more times and tried to grasp the situation and surroundings but nothing helped. His senses were way too dulled to comprehend anything.

If I were still alive, I was sure my tears would be streaming down my face by now. 'Sebastian, there will never be another Crystal in this world. Will you ever mourn for me?' I mused bitterly. ... Alice had fully awakened now. And as if pulled by some invisible force, I found myself stuck at Sebastian's side and had no choice but to helplessly watch as he wrapped his arms around her and sang a song, Little Nightingale, from my hometown. I couldn't help but shout inwardly in frustration, "Your Southpark accent is awful!"

Lisa took hers and passed the rest down the aisle, wondering what in the world they were about to do. "It's not a cult. I promise," Marc whispered against her hair. The warmth of his breath caused chill bumps to break out along her arms. She shivered and snuggled closer to him. The church stood, and she followed suit, trying not to look around as if a total tourist to church services, though she was. "We're going to light our candles as a symbol of hope as we sing Silent Night. Let your hearts be stilled, your worries rest. Tonight is a night of new beginnings. Of redemption." The Preacher smiled and emotion blasted through Lisa, tears burning her eyes.

I can't even call him. I blink my eyes rapidly but the vision doesn't get any better, the warm hand holds me again, I try to push it away but I'm too weak now. My body is giving up. I'm fading away.. Fading away into darkness.

True to his words, the diary brimmed with entries, pages crammed with his scrawled thoughts in that familiar, looping handwriting. Certain phrases repeated like a mantra, leaping from the paper with insistent frequency. [Love you. Miss you terribly. Waiting for you. Getting married...] Yet, as I flipped to the final page, there were only three words. [I hate you.] The vehement strokes nearly tore through the paper. They seemed intent on branding themselves into eternity. The date inscribed below was November 27th—Brett's mother's death anniversary.

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.

Winter's words start to blur together as my eyes get heavy. I try to focus on what she's saying, but exhaustion pulls at me like a weight. And then everything fades to black.

Every single picture pulled me back into the past. We had only separated recently, yet those memories already felt like something from a very distant time. Cyrus had also written me a letter. It used to be his favorite thing to do before we got married. He once said letters held more meaning than photographs. But later, he stopped writing to me. Even conversations became impatient. I didn't read the letter in detail. I merely scanned the last paragraph. [I never thought we would end this way. I'm sorry.] In truth, I never thought so either.

Justin shut his eyes as tears of anguish slipped down his face. If only he had chosen Yvonne from the very beginning. If only he had understood his own heart sooner. If only he had believed her… Endless what-ifs flooded his mind, but in the end, they all turned into the few written words in his hands: [I’m leaving. Don’t come looking for me. I don’t want you anymore.] “Yvonne!” Justin jolted upright. His face was pale and drenched in sweat. There was terror in his eyes.