Future Tense Novels & Stories

I knew I had this was coming, the calls, the gifts and the press. I knew it was going to be bad, that was why I had hesitated about the breakup, but it was necessary to cut Sebastian off. He was making me go crazy, in a terrible way, so yes, although I had foreseen the future, I accepted it with open arms.

I continued to talk while he already stood up and was dragging me to the door. “I just heard too many soon’s and that’s all I could get into my head.” He said and I laughed letting him to drag me. How everything turned out? This is nothing but unexpected from my future those few months back, but the expected would have hurt or many not. What if I actually was just a PA and he tried to seduce me? I would have slapped him for sure. Maybe unexpected is really a good thing for it to happen.

About Rick. Eli didn’t laugh. He didn’t interrupt. He just stared, wide-eyed, as if she were speaking in another language. When she finally fell silent, breathless, he whispered, “Ava… do you hear yourself? You’re saying… you’re saying you met you. From the future.” “Yes.” Her voice cracked. “I know it sounds insane. But it’s real. The letters are real.” Eli’s hands tightened on the chains of the swing. “Do you have them? The letters?”

Foreseeing the future? ”It seems like it. I mean look at the way the person writes, it’s mostly futuristic stuff and not so much present tense.” We skimmed the pages and it was scary how this person wrote. As is if they could see future events playing out and it seemed as though the person was looking forward to them as well. Relishing in the fact that vampires would one day be extinct. ”They sure didn't like vampires,” I said and shook my head. ”Can you blame them?” Lydia said and my head flew back as if she had pushed me.

he searched for the word. “Just another Tuesday,” I finished for him, and smiled. He smiled back, understanding. The future wasn’t a cliff to be faced. It was a path to be walked, one frost-rimed, bee-hotel-building, quietly triumphant Tuesday at a time. And for the first time, with the whole long, uncharted season of tending stretching out before us, that felt like the most exciting prospect of all.

It could be his past, the past before him, or one of the possible futures. - I don't understand that. What do you mean by “possible futures”? – Julius asks. - The past, whether distant or closer to the present, is the same thing. It was written, it was lived, and when you see it, that's what happened. The future is not decided and can change simply with a gesture. When we see the future, we don't know if the simple fact that we have seen it will change it. - But Romeo, the first time he looked, spoke to Lysander. Lysander died more than 200 years ago.

He nodded but didn't let go of my hand. "Ferris?" I prompted, and he turned to me, the excitement fading from his eyes, replaced by an expression I couldn't quite decipher. "Sometimes, thinking about the future is better than dwelling in the past, no matter how hard and bitter it is," he said. "One would say there's a reason for everything, but I don't believe that. Instead, I believe in working towards the future and letting go of the past. Work towards your future, Jam, and remember you have little ones to set an example for."

I question, tilting my head to the side. He bites the edge of his lip, sweeping a hand through those mussed black strands, clearly enjoying my teasing tone. He turns his back from me, walking toward his bed. Maybe I’m under his control at this point, but it lures me into taking a few shuddering steps toward him. “If anything is going to convince me, it’s knowing what I have to look forward to in the future,” Time murmurs, sitting on the edge of his bed. “I just want to lay near you.”

"There are matters that need to be settled before we take the next step." I looked at him in the firelight and thought about these things take time and when the time is right and something like that and the entire vocabulary of deferral he had been deploying since the steps conversation on the autumn evening when I had asked about a date and been given a philosophy instead. "That is an excuse," I said. "Every time I ask about our future you give me a version of the same excuse. Different words, same meaning. Wait. Be patient. Trust me. Don't rush."

“It’s not simple. It’s just manageable.” She looked at the city lights. “I think part of me got comfortable with the idea of an ending.” Vince’s expression softened. “Endings feel certain. Futures don’t.” She nodded. “Yes.” He reached for her hand. “Then don’t think about the future yet.” She glanced at him. “What should I think about?” “Tomorrow.” She smiled faintly. “You really like that word.” “Because tomorrow is always possible.” That night, as she lay in bed, Tiana realized something she hadn’t admitted out loud.