Futile Struggles Novels & Stories

I refused to let stubbornness and secrecy unravel everything. With that resolution firmly in mind, I finally sought my own bed to grab what fitful rest I could before the new day's challenges began. Tomorrow would require all my fortitude and persuasion skills to breach the walls now dividing us. Failure was not an option - too much was at stake. I drifted off still turning possibilities over in my mind, determined to make this right somehow. The uneasy night had illuminated fractures; tomorrow I would begin mending them, no matter the cost.

he stammered, struggling to get words out of his mouth. I could see the internal struggles within him and I hated to see him like this, a helpless mess just like I was. I really wished I could help him get out of this situation, but I was still grappling to figure out what this situation even was… But I didn't want neither of us to give up the fight. Whoever did this to us, needed to pay for it! We struggled to gain control of our bodies again, our breathing uneven as I pushed myself against the opposite wall, desperate to get away.

It doesn't bother me at all because fear is a weakness, and once you have one it's hard to get over. I am Lavender Jewels and I will never fall, I will be the first one in the battlefield to fight for the creatures of Utopia, the one that will change our generation. The One who will take them out. Once and For All.

🌧️Struggle and hardship don’t weaken this story—they give it grounding, a texture that makes every soft moment even more earned. It doesn't have to be dramatic or loud. It can show up in small ways: creative doubt, emotional exhaustion, the ache of misunderstanding, or the weight of choosing to remain after pain.

It's victory, pure and intoxicating. They scramble to find footing, their flurry of motion a testament to how unprepared they are for this turn. Papers are shuffled and clutched, like talismans that might save them from the worst of it. Words tumble out in stammered bursts, lacking coherence, each argument drowned before it reaches air. They're trying to regroup, to stitch together the tatters of a plan, but it's an act of desperation, the last throes of an opponent who's already lost.

Murry tried to run again, but he only made it halfway down the aisle. Large hairy hands with stabbing nails grabbed around his ankles. The claw nails shredded his jeans. Murry fought and kicked, but soon other hands came at him from all sides. His shirt, what was left of it, tore from his body. Twisting, he tried to get out of the hold. The creatures didn't seem to be phased by his movements. Murry knew he didn't have the power behind his strikes to make a difference. He didn't eat enough to bulk up, and he had never exercised or cared about his health. Murry simply lived every day the same. Now he wished he'd done some damn pushups or sit-ups in his life. His muscles became fatigued the mor

of the Union—the slow, agonizing, one-step-at-a-time struggle of a people who refused to dissolve—it began to "Choke." The war was a "Battle of Wills." The Engine tried to turn Audrey’s arm into a cloud of butterflies; she forced it back into a soot-stained hand through sheer "Mental-Inertia." Lucas fought the dissolution of the ship’s hull by reciting the "Laws of Thermodynamics" as if they were a holy prayer. They were the "Stoppers in the Sink," holding back the flood of "Infinite-Chaos" with the "Grit" of their collective memory.

No matter how hard I tried to mount in the mud of misery, no matter how I keep on standing whenever I tumbles down, everything seems to shatter so easily in the end. Is it so hard to aim for happiness in this world? God knows I tried to be brave and strong to keep on fighting the battles but no matter how hard I strive, I still keep on losing and ending up being broken. I was not mean and didn't have ill intentions toward anyone. I never aggravated nor stepped on someone else's shoes, so why is this all happening to me? It's so unfair and I was so damn tired. It's like I wanna give up and just let life whatever strike on me. Maybe I was really born unlucky or maybe this is all I could ever

“You are strong, Celia.” “No, I am not. Look at me.” “In order to be strong Celia, one must go through something like this. People who are doing their daily chores can’t be called as strong, can they? Unless they are fighting something worse. We still are fighting. All I want is you.”

I just have to keep an eye out. As Red goes deeper into the suburbs, the area becomes more and more decrepit as signs of decay and lack of maintenance show themselves through dirty buildings, cracked asphalt roads, and old graffiti. Ugh… Walking through the poor suburban areas, Red was a bright beacon for people who had malicious intentions. So… Anna Aspert, got into college but lives in a rundown place like this? I’ll have to see what that’s about… Maybe a scholar?