Futile Struggles Novels & Stories

Defiant. The sapling was not saved—not yet. Its leaves still hung limp, its bark still scarred. But its roots clung tighter to the soil, refusing to yield. So did she. Mirra lifted her chin. Her chest still heaved, but her eyes blazed. The forest was dying. But not without her fight.

“Aren’t you worried about my health? What if I can never have children after this?” Joel said impatiently, “Do you think we are living in a fictional world? Stories where one miscarriage makes someone infertile are rare. Just get it done quickly. Do not force me to act.” During the argument, Joel pushed her. Mandy fell down the stairs, and when she saw the blood, the situation escalated. Before losing consciousness, she screamed hoarsely, “Joel, heartless man! You got me pregnant and won’t take responsibility…” Joel’s mother arrived in a hurry but stayed rational.

"That's precisely the opportunity." "Opportunity for what?" someone else demands. "We tried extraction. We tried assassination. We tried everything the old leader's plans allowed for, and every single attempt ended the same way — failure, humiliation, and now this. Hiding in ruins like vermin, waiting for the day she decides we're worth the effort of finishing off properly."

He always formulates new ways to emerge victorious. "Mtungagore my Azanian friend, failure is a bitter pill to swallow. I was so close to victory. However, I promise you this, I will not sleep until I figure out how to break through that barrier. I will enter that godforsaken pack and I will burn all those mutts down. They are cowards! Hiding behind a fortress erected by an adolescent! I refuse to back down.

And as Vilinelle took her final breath, her eyes closing for the last time, Karistus howled, her heart breaking at the loss of her human. So the Gods took pity on her, and offered the wolf a choice, die today with honour, buried alongside Vilinelle, at peace with her life and the knowledge that she had fulfilled the role she was created for, or allow the Gods to extract her lifeforce, waiting for the next time the world needed a saviour, and she would be placed inside a human vessel to cleanse the impurities and restore balance again. A thousand years passed. As Karistus watched from above, the world changed, it grew darker, humans began to pollute the air with strange gases, trees were cut

She was crying over the failure of her plan. 'They could help me. They didn't. I was stupid to try it with a knife. If he hurts my family, I'll truly stab him this time. ' "It would heal, " he growled, arms wound tightly around her waist. She shrugged and tried to peel off his fingers. Her heart thumped at an uneven pace when her back hit his hard muscular chest. Her skin tingled, "Don't marry her," She sobbed saying in her broken voice. She threw her head back over his chest. He twirled her and embraced her to his chest, "Shshh," He kissed her head.

He felt that scorching heat and he did not want to be sent into the furnace into ashes. Vireo desperately fought with all his might and main, and he also shouted at the top of his lungs. "Help. Help. Help me…" He exhausted all the strength he had and thought that his voice was very loud. However, his voice was very soft. Only he could hear himself. None of the people surrounding him could hear him. Later on, he desperately struggled for his life. He wanted to raise his hand and wave to prove that he was still alive. However, no matter how much he struggled, he could not raise his hand. He did not wish to give up, so he fought hard over and over again as he wanted to raise and wave his hand.

I pressed, though I could see already that I did not want the answer any more than Wren wanted to give it, dread pooling low in my stomach like cold water. "And then they stopped fighting it," Wren said. "The records are not cruel about it. They don't call it a failure. They call it exhaustion. A person can only refuse the same pull for so long before refusing becomes the only thing they have left, and eventually even that runs out, the way a rope frays thread by thread until one day it simply parts."

Even now, on the edge of the Frostfall, people clung to money, trading food and water for scraps of paper soon to mean nothing. He did not comment and simply watched, detached, floating above it all. Life still had to go on. Even without hope, no one wanted to die. As long as there was a chance to cling on, even in miserable survival, people would struggle. Thus, they cursed, fought, and schemed. And the next day, they would continue clawing for life, all the same.

he murmured, his voice filled with empathy. Florence’s voice, barely a whisper, trembled as she confessed, “I do not know how to live for myself anymore. My entire life has been a relentless battle. I am constantly fighting, struggling, just to survive. I am tired of the pain, the hurt, the constant struggle.”