Imitation Of Life Novel Novels & Stories

You are my child now, but you will still have to do servant jobs. I put the card down on the table, and opened the box. Inside were 2 different things. One was a movie, the other a book. The movie read 'Rava the last dragon', and the book read 'Green eggs and ham'. I was in awe. They were in good condition. To find a book, or to have a movie was rare. Usually you could only see a movie at the theater, which cost a lot. Books were even harder to get. Mortals were only allowed specific things. I was so happy. I ran to my room, and put the book on my shelf. The movie in my dresser. I wanted to watch the movie first, but I also wanted to explore. I figured they were mine now, so I could watch th

"You've got some nerve putting your hands on me. Just so you know, I'm Mark's wife." She looped her arms around my neck and whined, "Honey, you've gotta get back at him for me. He was bullying me." She even began shifting in my lap on purpose. My silence made her fidgety. She leaned in and whispered in my ear, "Say something already. You proposed to me in our last life, remember? I'm saying yes now." Her breath slid warm along the side of my neck. I watched her, the same woman who wouldn't even let me touch her in my past life, now doing everything she could to seduce me. All I felt was disgust, like something filthy had rubbed off on me.

When you mimic someone, you tend to focus very hard to make sure you match your target. Dancers do this almost all the time. They make dance sequences, and everyone interested will copy. Now take that and apply it to everyday life. You drink the same, talk the same, eat the same, and have sex the same. A carbon copy, a clone, you could say.

But first— The imitation looked at Clara. —I wanted to thank you. Clara's eyes filled with tears. "For what?" For seeing me. Not as a monster. Not as a mechanism. As a grief. As a love that went wrong. You witnessed me. No one else ever did. The imitation began to fade. Its edges blurred, the grey light dimming, the face—Clara's face—softening into something less distinct. Remember Elara, the imitation said. Not as the builder. Not as the monster. As the mother who could not let go. That is the truth. That is the story.

"Then comes survival, starvation, body readaptation, blood bond, irritation towards human foods but forced acceptance of them. New senses unlock and old ones' shift—and a whole lot more I cannot cover, dear reader. But know this, the first price of immortality is anguish." I shut the book close with wide eyes. Okay, this is crazy. Scratch that, this is very terrific, horrific, brutal, dark, humourless, dangerous, ghastly, beastly...give me more words! Excuse my pardon?! These people are twisted, like insanely twisted. And fate decides to fuck me harder by making Kael enter the room just in time. "You're awake. Good to see you in one piece." He cracks up, a dent of smile on his lips, tugged t

She put into words all she saw from the moving picture. But she did something else other than tell the truth. She wrote a character that resembled her in those stories. At least, even just in her novels, she would create friends that wanted her. At least, even just in her novels, she would be able to live the life she could never have lived in reality. At least, even if it's just in her novels, she wouldn't be alone. Day and night she wrote and wrote until she filled pages and pages with words of truth. She wrote until there wasn't a fairy tale lie she couldn't expose anymore.

I remain silent during this process, still not sure what to think about this situation. “Oh, this isn’t good.” Axel exclaims, checking his phone. “I have an alert, the police are looking for a fugitive with telekinetic abilities who may be able to identify a high-risk Abnormal known as a ‘Mimic’.” He looks confused and turns to Myah, “Do you know what a Mimic is?” He asks. She doesn’t show any reaction but simply states; “I can’t think of anything relating to that, CC?” Myah looks towards her sister for a further response,

I couldn't help but wonder if she'd slipped something bad into it. This time around, I didn't dare touch it. I slid the jar back to her. "You can have it." After watching her finish it, I went back to my bedroom and dabbed some moisturizer on my face to test my suspicion. In no time, dark spots bloomed across my skin, in the exact same places as the ones on Mirabelle's face. As I expected, things hadn't changed even though I was given a second chance at life. I recalled how, in my previous life, the more skincare I used, the more spots and wrinkles I developed, as if I had aged 20 years overnight.

Blood was everywhere—thick, metallic. His dead eyes flickered. "Do you remember... in our last life..." He coughed blood, voice torn to shreds. "You bonded to me... under the Moon Goddess statue... said it'd be forever... said you'd plant Moonpetals in the yard..." His fingers clawed at the mud like he was digging up ghosts. "You had a pup... she had your eyes... chased fireflies in the yard..." I let him talk. Then I laughed—cold and sharp. "Keep repeating it. Maybe one day you'll believe it. But guess what? I came back too."

Like they were waiting for instruction that didn’t exist yet. My throat tightened painfully. “This isn’t them,” I said quietly. Nathan nodded once. “No.” “It’s a model of them.” My eyes widened. A simulation layer. Built from reaction patterns. Stripped of emotional volatility. Perfectly predictable. Perfectly controllable. A copy. Without humanity. And worse It was improving. The third state pulsed again. And I felt something terrifying. It was learning compassion last. Not first. Not instinctively. Last. My chest tightened.