Illusions Richard Bach Novels & Stories

As he crawled out of the bushes, keeping his distance fearfully, he sniffled softly, "Please, Rachel. I really understand that I've made a mistake now, and that I know there's no making things right after what I've done. "I'm relieved to see that you're fine… You won't ever see me again, don't worry." I ignored him, while he slowly wobbled past me, ultimately breaking into tears. Just as I was going to hail a cab to leave the graveyard, an ambulance bounded past me. As several pedestrians were standing by the junction and clamoring, I went for a closer look out of curiosity. "I heard that a man dumped his wife, and when she found him again along with their child, he pushed them under a car a

His brow furrowed when I walked in. "Elliot, we need to talk." "Can it wait until I'm done with the meeting?" "Now." The clients, sensing the tension, excused themselves one after another. Once we were alone in the meeting room, Elliot grumbled, "What is this about? We talked yesterday." "Why is everything in my studio gone?" I asked, getting straight to the point. His face burned with guilt, but he refused to admit it. "Yvette needs a quiet environment to create. Those trophies intimidated her."

I said to myself I paused the movie and held the music box, the music wasn’t audible but I could hear the tone, my hands began itching me immediately after I held the box, it was like it was burning, and I plopped the box on the floor and the music stopped. My heart raced fast as I noticed my hands were burnt “How is that possible” I panicked I rushed to my room and applied an ointment to my hand. After I applied the ointment, I went back to the living room and sat down before I pressed play, but the remote didn’t work, I tried again and the television went off

She stammered, "M-Maverick, these photos, these agreements… they're fake—all fake! How could I ever do something like this? Ophelia is trying to frame me!" Right on cue, tears streamed down her face, making her look utterly pitiful. I calmly reached into my bag and pulled out a USB drive. "Emma, you recorded videos to pay off your gambling debts. Do you need me to help you relive those memories?" Her expression twisted from pitiful to vicious in an instant. She grabbed a cup of hot tea from the table and hurled it straight at me. "Ophelia, you bitch!" She moved so fast that I instinctively shut my eyes and raised my arm to block it. But the pain of hot tea scalding me never came.

"Little brother, what about me helping you with your work? Um....are you making a science project or somethin' like that? Then, I sure can help you." "And I sure you can't," replied Mahone. "How do you know that?" "I am exploring optical illusion. I am trying to make an infinite mirror and of course it's very hard," he continued to speak smugly. "At least I need a few weeks to finish it, because I haven't found all the equipments, like....I bought some plexiglass sheets named polycarbonate. They are good company's, you know. They looked clear in the shop, but when I checked them in my room, they kinda seemed opaque, the hell! I bet the shopkeeper was selling secondhand goods, just showing of

“Blue suits you.” Why does the way he says it feel deeper than the colour? He holds his hand out for me, and I place mine in his and the second his fingers close around mine, that's when my entire nervous system remembers exactly who this man is. We walk inside together. The mansion looks even more intimidating from the inside, with everything looking painfully expensive, with the massive chandeliers hanging above us and the glossy marble floors reflecting back at me.

A man placed his father’s shattered glasses into the archive. Every offering was encoded not as data—but as resonance. The root responded. It grew. Weeks passed. Lena stopped giving orders. She listened more. Watched. Let the new shape form without steering it. Jessica became the de facto lead scientist, developing “memory scaffolds”—frames people could use to hold onto pain without being consumed by it. Torin launched the “Echo Rings”—distributed libraries that acted like decentralized temples, where stories could be left anonymously and accessed only once. Eleni created the first “Still Zones”—sacred spaces with no light, no sound, only the pulse of what had come before. People went in to

I exhale, embarrassed at how hard my heart is pounding. The interruption doesn’t quiet my mind. Breathe. Just breathe. I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to loosen the knot that had nested there overnight. It didn’t budge. My gaze slid back to the laptop, the black screen reflecting a version of me. I hardly recognized, hair damp from the shower, eyes rimmed in raw fatigue, posture like a question mark. I wasn’t done. Not even close. I flipped the lid open. The glow stabbed at my pupils, but the ache in my chest hurt worse. Richard Page. Obsidian Hotels. Mergers. Acquisitions. Headlines that all read the same: visionary, relentless, untouchable.