Novel & Cerita First Person Narrative Present Tense

As long as you live, you will only have the present, because the present is every minute that you breathe, and every second that your heart beats. — My present isn’t boring or predictable. - I deny vehemently. - It's upside down, because of you. He pulls me closer to his body, separating the strands of hair that have escaped from the rubber band, from my face —My present isn’t boring either, since you are with me, everything is fire and meteor showers. We kiss.

- HAZEL - I'm stuck in a spot here. After my recent conviction, I finally know what to write in my book. I'm just writing my story in a third person's pov or narrative point of view, in my opinion, while switching a few things or making a few tweaks here and there.

"A mechanism. A specific and available mechanism for accessing resources he needed." I paused. "He didn't ask how she was," I said. "Not once. In two hours." The specific and quiet statement of it. Nate was very still on the other end of the call. I thought about what I was doing. I thought about the specific and professional frame I had been building the account in, the neutral and observational quality of a man describing what he had seen, the particular and careful distance of the reporting register, the way I had been delivering the evening as a series of observations rather than as a thing I had been in, that had happened to me as much as to her.

Chapter Twelve First Person’s Perspective Belle By the time dawn broke, I was already showered, dressed, and pacing my room like a caged animal Isla was restless too, feeding off my anger *We should just go kill him ourselves*, she growled *And expose us? Brilliant plan* I responded and she rolled her eyes *Then let’s hear your genius plan* *I’m working on it* At seven AM, I couldn’t take it anymore. I headed downstairs, following the smell of coffee and food

Chapter 3 Third Person POV Selene woke up with determination etched on her face as the night drew to a close and the first rays of dawn began to peek through the window. She rose from her bed, ready to face the challenges that awaited her, with a deep breath. Her driving force was the search for her parents, which would be her beacon of hope amidst the darkness. With urgency driving every step, she hastily gathered her belongings. She packed essentials into a worn out bag that had seen its fair share of adventures with determined precision in swift movements.

Hi guys, Just a quick one. I just want to tell you guys how grateful I am for your support in reading this masterpiece of my imagination. Well... It was just a cheeky imagination and here we are at the end of the day. I'm writing to let you guys know that I might unfortunately have to change my narrative techniques for the next few chapters. Since I'm finding it very difficult to express certain things from my point of view, I guess the first-person point of view would be better for these few chapters. Kindly bear with me and stay longer on this journey with me. Thank you so much, guys. I love you. _Rave Queen.

Ernest said. Don looked at him. "It may not be the right kind of presence," he said. "The first person in the Thessaloniki piece was the presence of someone arriving and looking. The first person in this piece is the presence of someone who is already there. The already-there is harder to write from."

I asked, testing the word like a stone I hadn't picked up in a long time. Silas looked out at the ocean, his gaze steady. "I think about it, but it doesn't hold any weight anymore. It’s like looking at a book you finished a long time ago. The characters are familiar, the events happened, but it isn't your life anymore. This," he gestured to the house, the garden, and the vast, quiet expanse of our property, "this is the present tense. It’s the only tense that matters." I nodded, feeling a profound sense of ease wash over me. We had navigated the complexities of our pasts, untangled the knots of our fears, and emerged into a space of pure, unadulterated existence.

Third Person Pov Nicholas had woken up with beads of sweat streaming down his face from his forehead. He was sweating all over and breathing heavily, with memories of his nightmare still very vivid in his head. He was thankful that there wasn't anyone in the room because he knew that if anybody had seen him in this state, he would have completely lost his mind with rage and would have done the unthinkable.

Second Person POV You wake to the scent of pine and cold stone. Your skull throbs, a dull ache radiating from the base of your neck to your temples. The air is sharp, sterile, like the inside of a mountain cave. Your fingers twitch against smooth rock, and when you pry your eyes open, the world is a blur of flickering torchlight and shadows. *Where are they?*