First As Tragedy Then As Farce Novels & Stories

I stormed up to them in a rage and flipped her urn away. Then, I hissed darkly, "You don't even care about your own wife's funeral! You mocked your dead wife, but you'd set up a grand funeral for a damn tortoise? A damn tortoise! You disgust me, Samuel!" A heartbroken Jade cried, "Didi! Didi! How could you, Penelope? Have a heart!" "My heart's broken, scum." I sneered. "You know why your tortoise died? Because its master is an evil witch. If you ask me, you and your bastard brother should be the ones who died."

I asked the system, “Now that the plot has fallen apart, will this world still continue on?” For once, the system cracked a joke. [You lost your love. Does that still count as a tragedy?] I smiled and stepped toward tomorrow.

As I lay on the genuine leather sofa with a glass of 1982 Lafite in hand, I finally felt like the hero of a power-fantasy novel I was meant to be. Suddenly, a highlighted post popped up on my phone screen. It was from the campus forum. "Why Did Jacob the Fool Suddenly Lose His Mind?" I raised a brow and tapped into the thread with interest. There, students were enthusiastically discussing my "heroic act" of feeding the sandwich to a stray dog yesterday. Someone had even started a betting pool. "I'll bet a dollar that Jacob takes Carol to a fine dining restaurant and begs for her forgiveness." "I'll put ten dollars on tomorrow. Jacob will be crawling back with tears in his eyes, apologizing t

Sarah laughs while nodding her head, "It's still better than the original one. Jeff called the holy priest to exorcise the ghost, sold the house and marrying his fiancé. But, sometime, the ghost still haunted his mind and in the end, Jeff lost his sanity." "Why did they make a tragedy like this?" Hugo pull his hair with frustration feeling. "I hate to say this. But, we should go. They will close the theater." Sarah said while she pointed several men who cleaning the stage. Hugo wipes the tears before blow his nose. Sarah blinked twice and stunned. This make him realized that he already made a terrible mistake. To blowing the nose in very loud voice. Not to mention, he was using her perfumed

he yelled, slipping once more. I couldn’t contain my laughter as I watched them flounder. “This is too perfect,” I thought, the scene playing out exactly as I had hoped. Their dignity, already in tatters, was further shredded by their inability to stand. I made my escape, my laughter fading into the night. “That was priceless,” I thought, feeling a rush of triumph. “They deserve every bit of this humiliation.” As I ran away, I felt a strange mix of emotions—triumph, a hint of sorrow for what was once a genuine love, and a burning resolve. “Finally, I feel a little better,” I laughed. “This is only the start of their downfall.”

". It is a denial of his final, most deeply felt wish." Finally, he faced Harrison Grey, the oldest, most traditionalist of them all. "You called it a romantic tragedy, Harrison. You are wrong. It is a Shakespearean drama, and you are the shortsighted lords conspiring against the king's decree. And in every single one of those plays, the conspirators fail." The silence in the room was complete, profound. The storm had not blown over; it had been diverted, and now it was pent up inside the man standing at the head of the table. They had arrived to remove a scandal-damaged heir. They were facing a wrathful king.

Her attempts at pulling at his heartstrings fall flat. He watches her with an indifferent expression. “Then so be it”. “You should just have stayed out of Japan, Rei”. ________ “It’s almost like watching a play…or would it be more accurate to call it a farce?”. She laughs softly to herself. “A bunch of fools on a stage prancing around to one man’s tune”. How laughable.

Another pause. “At first everybody understood.” The sadness in her voice deepened. “Then it slowly became unhealthy.” Ava felt her chest tighten. Because that made sense. Far too much sense. People often imagined tragedy arriving like a storm. Sudden. Violent. Obvious. Reality was usually different. Most tragedies developed slowly. Quietly. One decision at a time. One fear at a time. Until nobody noticed how far things had gone. Margaret folded her hands. Then looked directly at Adrian.

The first crawl was not graceful. It was a lunge, a collapse, a furious recalculation, and then another lunge that took her the width of a floor cloth before gravity reasserted the formal hierarchy. Tristan, who had been reviewing a slate on the nursery floor beside her, abandoned the slate so completely it cracked against the wall. I made a sound that was not language. She lifted her head, flushed with triumph, and immediately tried to sell the same performance a second time. “She is leaving,” Tristan said, as if reporting a border breach.

Just then with Kyle’s smile, he snaps his finger taking the que and giving the price, yet rather that trap that is set to make everything flow to what she desires and dearly love to have, as he whispers. “Now, now, now, let the next act commence.” Like directing a play with the tragic theme and somehow taking an inspiration to the classic take of Romeo and Juliet, the words rings. FOR SOMEONE CAME SHE opens her eyes taken back from the tragedy that is happening to her, yet she freely allows the fact that it is all a lie she made for her reality. She then counted. “One, two, three.” Behind her mind, as the seconds tick and perfectly dive into the perfect moment, one of them screams in pain.