Handwriting Analysis Graphology

On the day of my wedding anniversary, I was cleaning my house when I found a picture album. As it turned out, my husband had been religiously taking pictures with the girl of his dreams every year on this precise date. He had been doing it since he was forty years old and he was now sixty years old. His hair had progressed from a jet black to a faded white and yet, he kept up the tradition. There was a written message in his handwriting at the back of the picture that read, “Eternal Love.” Since he doesn't love me, I will no longer bother washing his clothes and cooking for him. I will no longer care for his children and grandchildren. I may have foolishly wasted half of my life, but it was not too late to make a change.

“Nate, don't you dare start with that nonsense too. I told you already, I don't care about those ridiculous traditions." Marcel responded irritably as she hopped into the copilot seat of her best friend's car, anxious to get as far away as possible from her home. “Hey, I've known you since you were four, so don't try and act all brave and mature. Tell me the truth, you're afraid aren't you?” “Humph! What's there to be scared of?...” “That Mike's ghost might come back to haunt you." The boy interrupted, carelessly blurting out his analysis, adding…“I just don't get it; everyone else knows his death wasn't your fault…” “I know it wasn't!” “Then why won't you pray for his safe journey into the afterlife? What if his soul is damn to roam the earth, wreaking havoc among the living or even disrupting the balance between the two worlds?” “Ahh! Don't be childish. There is no such thing as the afterlife; parents just use these pathetic excuses to trick their children into believing that our loved ones are better off. If that was the case, why don't we all join them… oh yeah, that's right, we can't commit suicide otherwise we'll go straight to hell. Grow up Nate! The spirit dies with the body.” Follow the journey of a young woman as she tries to keep her sanity when the world around her was quickly crumbling after one faithful night of honoring the dead. Will she be able to save the life of those closest to her? or will her soul be bound to an eternity of madness?

Sophie is speech impaired; she communicates by writing on pieces of paper, and as such, she carries a notebook along with her wherever she goes. She was able to clearly express her anxiety and pain through these papers, sometimes through text messages too. It is fascinating that whenever she goes out, she doesn’t appear to be a pitiable figure. Sophie is bold and clever, and she is an enthusiastic being. She is a baker, and she owns her shop. Sophie’s voice is a great weapon, and there is a lot to her central figure. People assume that she has been mute from birth, but her condition was the aftermath of the sexual abuse she received from Mr. Adrian, her uncle, at the age of 12, and her aunt, Mrs. Eliana, feels shadowed by societal analysis, so she keeps quiet about it. Sophie decided to fight and survive, and she always chose to pick shattered pieces of herself broken.

He didn't expect to see her again, an encounter that ignited his love and desires for her; She didn't expect to meet him sooner —an encounter that ignited her hunger for revenge and a twisted desire. ****** He pushed me against the wall, "End the contract with my boss! You are playing with fire Victoria!" He roars. I remain unfazed; this is just the tip of the iceberg, and there is more to come. How I wish he could read the handwriting on the wall, he should be more scared of me, not his boss. "Dear ex-husband, are you jealous that I'm with your boss or is it something else?" I challenge him, a mysterious smile playing on the tip of my lips. His eyes blaze with fury, swiftly pinning me against the wall, his breath fanning my ear, sending shockwaves of pleasure despite the situation. "You know nothing; if you are aiming for revenge, then do it openly!" My gaze meets his, "You don't know what is coming for you, Brad; it is far more than you can fathom."I gave him a sinister smile which made him go crazy. "Fine, I admit I was wrong; I shouldn't have done that to you; I shouldn't have abandoned our love and made you sign those papers, but I did that for you!" Came his outburst. "I...I did that to protect you... because I love you... because I don't want to lose you." He cupped my face tenderly, his hands shaking against my skin; I stood still, dumbfounded. "protection from what?" I choked at my question because I knew whatever the reason may be, it might already be too late. This has gone beyond love—the thirst for revenge and duty is at stake now. Will love be given a chance again?