Finding Truth Book Novels & Stories

On the night before my wedding, the bridal party is too excited to sleep, so someone suggests a game of anonymous confessions. Everyone writes down one thing they want to say to me, the groom-to-be. I eagerly close my eyes, expecting heartfelt wishes and congratulations, but the first note stuns me. "You bastard. If you weren't forcing my sister to marry you, Lyle would be my brother-in-law!" Lyle Thomas is my best friend. Just three hours earlier, he called to apologize, saying a last-minute business trip had come up and he couldn't make it to the wedding. My hands tremble as I continue reading. "That watch she gave you as a wedding present is one Lyle turned down. He said it looked ch

How was I supposed to find proof of something that happened years ago, proof buried under my mother’s grave? “Evil deeds are easy to cover up with money but the truth can't be easily obtained, why? Why can't it be easier for the truth? Why must lies prevail? “No matter the circumstances, the truth will always find its way out. It can't be hidden forever,” Andy said. “Where do we even start?” I asked bitterly.

If there is another life, I wish I could be born into an ordinary family, and that I could meet you again with a clean slate. I stood there for a long time after finishing the letter. Then, I walked to the window and watched the snow drift down outside. There was no anger, no grief, not even a ripple of emotion. Only an immense, boundless emptiness. So this was the truth. What had fueled all that evil was not some twisted love, but another warped and pitiful soul. I tossed the letter and the brown envelope into the fireplace together. Orange flames swallowed the words in seconds, turning them into ash.

♠ 𝑻𝒓𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒇𝒖𝒍. 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒉𝒖𝒓𝒕. 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒔, 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒘𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒍𝒆𝒇𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒕𝒊 𝒓 𝒖𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚.

WHO WHO WANTS TO KNWO THE TRUTH. Guys be ready and fasten your seat belt cuz maybe from next chappy our truth will be start revealing..... Lemme know your thoughts about this chapter too. Till then, Stay safe and be happy..... 🤎 P.

He turned his gaze to me then, his eyes bright with unshed tears, and I saw the same kindness I had seen in photos of my parents. “Your mother once told me that the strongest signal is not the one that carries the most data. It is the one that carries the most truth. And truth is never just one thing. It is always two sides fitting together, even when they are not exactly the same, even when they do not fit neatly into the boxes we try to build for them.”

I wrote a heart-wrenching love story and sent it to a few marketing accounts with large followings. It was told from the perspective of a petty thief who accidentally stumbled into a love sanctuary and was seeking out Jack and Kate across the entire internet. As for Kate, how could I let her continue to act innocent in front of everyone? It was true that the two of them made a good match. Most people wouldn't document so many personal secrets, but they weren't like most people. I found a hacker to access Kate's laptop and social accounts. It turned out I wasn't the first woman the two had used to build their so-called love story. I clenched my fists as I saw Kate document countless other gir

I can feel the air gaining moist like it's about to rain. "Why the fuck do you care about that little human? She is mine!" My voice thickens, my monster on the surface. Fuck me! I'm not thinking clearly. Her scent—she's getting into my head again, causing me to act this way. Lucas spreads his palms out. The rumbling outside arises even more, followed by the eerie strike of thunder. "I'll repeat myself no more, brother." As Lucas' boot snaps the wooden fragments on the floor, I sink into his mind. I'll find out the truth by myself if he wouldn't tell me, except he shuts the door to his mind against me—harsh and hefty.

I say, strolling back toward her. “Besides Rat Trap on your fake tits, the second game is called Truth: A Little Flesh or Lies: A Lot of Flesh.” I smirk. “Rules are simple. I’m going to adjust our little rat friend, so he’s positioned right above your overpriced silicone tits. Then, I ask a question. As I heat the bucket. You answer and if I believe you, I release a little heat. Vincent over there, he takes part of a finger. But if we think you’re lying?” I glance over at Vinny. “I heat the bucket, and he takes the whole fucking finger.”

The morning split three ways at once. That was the trouble with truth once it finally came out of hiding. It never walked into one room politely and waited to be understood. It moved through bodies, phones, roads, old grudges, bank records, chapel locks, and frightened men who had spent years being useful to the wrong person.