Novelas y relatos de First Person Narrative Present Tense

*First Person's Perspective* ~ Enise~ As soon as my alarm clock blared, I jumped up to my feet and threw on my sneakers and joggers. I had gone out for my early morning jog, as I always did. The cool morning air brushed against my skin, the faint glow of dawn painting the streets in soft hues. My headphones were securely in place, music blaring as I focused on the rhythmic pounding of my feet against the pavement. The streets were quiet, almost too quiet now that I thought about it. But the tranquility was comforting.

So inst‍ead of s‍p‍eaking⁠, I move. ⁠I lower myse⁠lf between her leg‍s and press my mouth against⁠ her. The first taste of her steals the ai⁠r from my lun‌gs. She lets out a broken so‍und‍, and the world narrows un⁠til there is nothi‍ng but h‍er reactions, he‍r softness, the wa⁠y she yie‍lds a‌n‌d tr‍embles beneath me.‍ Everything else disappears. Ther‌e is no past. No‍ future. Just this mo⁠ment.

Chapter Three- *First Person's Perspective* ~Amanda~ "She looks..." "I'm glad we..." I heard voices, faint and distant. Muffled, like whispers. I rolled on my sides, my eyes still shut, the scorching pain radiating in my head, stirs a feeling of hopelessness in me I try to remember how I had gotten into this situation in the first place, but my head is blank. Nothing comes up.

My mind raced with all the horrible possibilities. He crouched down, bringing himself level with me. I screamed—an ear-splitting sound that tore through the silence, making my own eardrums ache. He moved slowly, almost gently, placing his hand near the side of my neck, just behind my ear. A shiver ran through me at the touch of his skin, warm and deceptively soft. Then everything went black. --- When I regained consciousness, my eyes snapped open, and my heart began racing all over again. Panic surged through me, making it hard to breathe. I squeezed my eyes shut and whispered a desperate prayer, “Please, let this be a nightmare. Please, God…”

I whisper, because I don’t know what else to say. He tilts his head, his eyes flicking between mine. “You don’t have to say anything,” he tells me softly. “Just… be here.” So I do. I let myself be here. Just for now. Just for this small piece of time that feels untouched by everything else. Then it happens. The first shot cuts through the air like a crack in glass. Then another. And another. The sound echoes across the cliffside, sharp and violent, and the quiet we had just seconds ago dies in an instant. My body stiffens before my mind even catches up.

Third person pov The warehouse was silent except for the steady hum of the fluorescent lights above cold, blue, and merciless. The air smelled of steel and oil, the faint echo of a life built on revenge rather than purpose. Elijah pushed open the heavy metal door and walked in, the soles of his boots crunching on scattered glass. His face was blank, but his eyes were burning. “Our old man just told his wife and the Fisher boy about us,” he said, his voice sharp and tired. “He feels like we exist.”

FIRST PERSON POV Everywhere is dark,I tried moving my hands but they are tied,I tried opening my mouth to shout for help I couldn't hear my own voice, Scared, The tears dropped . The last event came in like a rushing flooding,.my own father- in- law kidnapped me, I'm a stranger in my own life and story,I was married off without my consent to a husband that treats me like a shit ,to a family that despise me,for no reason I know about,I was manipulated and used for a pleasure as well.I've been leaving like a walking ghost with no sense of direction or purpose.dwelling in my

Third Person Pov (Flashback to years ago) Today is the first day of Cassia’s internship at the company, and she is running late. She is currently in a taxi since she can’t yet afford a car, and because she woke up late, she has to do her makeup in the taxi.

Third person POV Lance hadn’t been able to sit still since the call. The sun had sunk low, casting long shadows across the desk of the ship. He paced the length of the room, running a hand through his hair, then stopping abruptly only to start again. Nolan’s words echoed like a pulse in his mind—steady, relentless, impossible to silence. I lied. Dad was still alive. I spoke to him. He could still hear the rasp in Nolan’s voice, the way it had cracked—not with weakness, but with the raw truth of someone who’d been holding it in too long.

THIRD PERSON’S POV Janie’s fists tremble as she stands in the middle of her living room, her mind swirling in a chaotic storm of fury. She’s so angry she can’t think straight. The rage bubbles up in her chest, hot and suffocating. Her breaths come in short, jagged bursts as she glares at the remains of the glass objects shattered across the floor. The room feels smaller, more suffocating with each passing moment.