Famous Last Words Novel Novels & Stories

I turned to the very last page—the one my father-in-law had been writing the day he died. The page was blank, except for a single, trembling line of ink at the top. The Weaver knows the code. The Architecture is the Grave. I closed the book, the sound of the leather snapping shut like a gunshot in the quiet car. The "Day-by-Day" was gone. We were into the "Night-by-Night" now. And as the Suburban hit the open highway, the speedometer climbing toward ninety, I realized that the 300,000 words of our story were only just beginning to get darker. And as the grey Chicago rain began to lash against the windows once again—no, as the black North Woods ice began to coat our path—I realized that I was

And I was the fool who fell on her edge willingly. Flashback – One Month Ago – Florence My father’s last words were a curse. "You’ll lose everything for love. Mark it." I marked it. I just didn’t care. Because I would rather die by Valentina’s hand than live a hundred years without her flame beside me. Present – Estate Balcony – 4:15 AM The wind carried whispers. Guns being loaded. Deals being betrayed. A war brewing like a storm. I lit a cigar. Dragged deep. Lorenzo stood in the shadows below. Rico beside him. Both watching me.

She was about to confront him and ask if she could speak to Helena alone, but he made a small noise of triumph and pulled a book from the shelf. "I know how much you love poetry. My agents said that you often read history, philosophy, and all manner of literature, but you especially love poetry. The great Dante Alighieri is one of your favorites, yes?" Severus held a small leather-bound book with such care. It looked rather old but well-loved. "Yes, of course. I love Dante's work." Sidia looked for the book's title, but Severus's hands obscured the embellishments. Without looking at the pages, he stared deep into her eyes and quoted, "In that book which is my memory, on the first page of the

, Dr Wilson asks curiously to which I reply. “The use of dead red fox blood to remove poison from the vampire is effective when the sunlight hits the body”. As soon as I realize I have spoken it out loud infront of everyone I panic internally thinking what would I say if they ask me any question and to my horror Dr Wilson did. “How did you read that?”, he asks his mouth open wide in shock. “I ....I just visited this .... place before”, I lie through my teeth fisting my hands behind. “But that doesn’t explain, there isn’t written anything about this piece anywhere in the museum, many failed to read the language on the tablet”, he tells frowning taking a look at the clay tablet again.

My last desire wasn't for fame or money—it was just to see her smile one more time, without a barrier between us. Oh, I thought, a detached, peaceful curiosity blooming in the center of the blackness. I forgot to tell them about the flash drive in the... The thought flickered out like a candle in a gale. There was no more Mary. No more secrets. No more fear. Just the silent, spinning phone on the tripod, broadcasting a spray of red across a white wall and the empty chair where a whistleblower had stood a second before. A hundred thousand people watched as the screen went black, the last thing they heard being the heavy, rhythmic thud of a tactical boot stepping over a fallen body.

A small smile tugged at her lips as she got up and walked over. Running her fingers along the spines, she realized with surprise that they were all romance novels. For a moment, she wondered why Liam had chosen romance for her? She had expected mysteries or something darker. After scanning the titles, her hand paused on one. She pulled it out gently. Whispers of the Forgotten Moon by Evelyn Hart. Carrying it back to the bed, she curled up against the pillows and opened the book. Caleb stepped out of the car as he quickly opened the door for Liam, who came out and strode past him without sparing a glance, as he walked straight into the house.

The final entry had been written on the day I discovered them. Leighton had written a suicide note, every word filled with guilt toward Harley. Even the way she addressed him had changed. She called him "hubby". [Hubby, if I should die unexpectedly one day, everything I own will belong to you.] [As for Logan, I've wronged him. Leave him enough money to live out the rest of his life comfortably, and that will be enough.] The blood in my body turned ice-cold, and my hand gripping the mouse trembled uncontrollably. A violent wave of nausea rose from my stomach. I grabbed the trash can and vomited.

The struggles and sorrows of that other life were finally sealed away—gently, tenderly, by the hands of time. -THE END-

Not of worlds. Not of stories. A map of people. Countless tiny lights filled its pages. Each light represented an Author somewhere across existence. One by one... those lights began disappearing. The First Reader whispered, "Someone is hunting the Authors." The little girl pointed toward the center of the map. One light burned brighter than all the others. Unlike the rest... it wasn't fading. It was growing. A single word slowly appeared beside it. ELIAS At that exact moment... the Last Editor's black pen shattered completely.

I didn't reply. Across the city, Dante sat alone in his apartment. The screen lit his face. He stared at the sent message. Read it. No reply. He smiled bitterly. Tears in his eyes. The apartment still had my old hoodie in the closet. He hadn't thrown it away. He didn't know why. Grace told him about the wedding. He listened. Nodded. Shut himself in his study for a night. In the morning, the ashtray was full. He wanted to go. He couldn't. He looked at the message again. The sky was brightening. He remembered the time he gave me a strawberry candy, years ago, and called me cute. I'd held onto it until it melted in my palm. He laughed at me then. Now he realized he was the fool. He'd held my he