From Autumn To Ashes The Fiction We Live Novels & Stories

And if you laugh today, you will cry tomorrow. I used think those words were just trash but nothing. I felt so happy today that I wished to live in this fictional world forever, but who knew that I'm going to take my words back not too late. I thought I would be happy forever, but I didn't know that forever ends a few days later and all I have to deal is with the darkness in my life. I couldn't be happy over someone's death right!?

We both groan in unison, just under our breath, at the injustice of a week more of school. “Pfft, they're not my friends anyway.” Eve can't help herself, and I throw her a pointed stare that seems to penetrate something in her attitude and makes her pipe down. She turns away to stare out of the window instead. “This is done for now. It’s late, and we all need to get some sleep. Go shower, both of you. That muddy coloured ash you are caked in is the charred, vulgar remains of hundreds of dead vampires from a decade ago…. might want not to be breathing it in or wearing it like a second skin. It’s dead ferals.”

The man didn't run to me. He didn't howl. Ashford walked across the salt-slurry with the steady, heavy gait of a soldier who had already seen the end of the world and found it repetitive. His tattered cloak flapped in the black wind, the fabric sounding like the beating of a thousand crow wings. "The fire was a lie, Amara," Ashford said. His voice was a match struck in a quiet room. "I didn't burn the kitchen to kill your mother. I burned it to kill the Council’s scent."

I curled up on the floor, felt a rush of iron in my throat—and coughed up a mouthful of blood. That bright-eyed boy I used to be—the one who still had hope—faded into nothing. After that, I had nothing left to live for. Until just now, when this wretched, drifting life of mine finally ended. Matthew, your big brother is coming to join you. I've finally paid for my sin.

The shadows pressed in, and the shuffle of rats in the corner ,reminded her of her helplessness. Her hands were sore from banging on the wall all night , hoping for someone to come save her. Freedom was a cruel dream in this place. Bianca’s stomach growled, but no one came with food. No one came at all. That was the worst part. She was used to being admired, pampered, adored even envied. Now she was utterly forgotten, like she never mattered at all. Her lips trembled as she whispered into the still air, "Someone… please" But the only reply was the hollow echo of her own voice.

The memory had cracked something open, and now they poured out in flashes cherry popsicles on sunburnt lips, bare feet on hot wood, a boy with scraped knees and silent eyes sitting beside him on the roof of a burned-out barn. Ash. He hadn’t been called that then. Or maybe he had, but August never asked. Names hadn’t mattered back then. Only presence. Only escape. They’d both needed it. Two forgotten children in a house full of ghosts. August remembered the night the power went out, and Ash had held his hand beneath the covers and whispered a story about how they were both actually from the stars. “They got it wrong,” he’d said. “We’re not real kids. We’re just waiting to be found again.”