Imitation Of Life Novel 소설 & 이야기

Life of an immortal is both easy and hard. Easy because you have unlimited resources, you were born in a wealthy family; well almost every immortal is rich. Hard because you rarely see another immortal, you follow certain sets of rules which I have disobeyed since I met someone. You can’t even marry the one you love most – especially if it is a mortal. You cannot mingle with their lives. If they were born a mortal, let them live and die as a mortal. Infusing a pure immortal’s blood, loving an immortal and creating offspring with it are a few that prohibits us to do. Doing those makes a new set of life – the hybrids.

Silence ensued all around us, and every other child was staring at me jealously. Still, I nodded without hesitation. "Okay." "Good, good!" Carl smiled as he took my hand in his warm palm that also felt a little dry. "From now on, your name shall be Ruby Simpson, for I hope you will become a precious gem in the future too." Understanding the admiration and expectation in his words, I unwittingly clenched tightly on his palm in turn. And with that, I became the precious gem of the Simpson family. Carl himself treasured me, personally teaching me to read and write, and on philosophy.

The people on the street below began to glow with silver hair and green eyes. ​"The 150th Chapter," Nora whispered, pulling Leo into her arms as the Pierre Hotel began to float away into the infinite sky, "is not the end of the story. It's the beginning of the Simulation of the World." ​In London, the "Real" Julian Vane stared at his monitor as his entire empire turned into a digital storybook. He reached for the "Kill-Switch," but his hand turned into a flurry of rose petals before he could touch it.

My maids thankfully packed three pairs of mittens, all varying from gray, to brown, to black. I wear the gray ones, cupping my hands in an attempt to catch some snowflakes. They melt on impact, and I walk around, staring up at the sky in wonder. New Puerto is so different and so beautiful than my home. Even with the snow, I can see the stars glittering in earnest, the smoke from fires made to keep the small cabins and homes warm. Quill is close to me, giving me my space to allow me to enjoy the snow, but always close by in case I needed him.

she cried to us as she handed us the painting that was meant for us. I just smiled at her as she hugged us. I looked down at the painting I was holding. "Life in the Darkness" — The Woman Who Lived in the Dark." ** Life in Darkness has signed off.

He spat as he grabbed my hair and started to drag me across the carpet. "P-please sir.. I won't do it again please forgive me"! I plead to him because I know what's coming and I hate it. Ever since Robbie killed my mother he's become even more of a monster and the treatment I endured before seemed like a paradise I reminisce on. Starvation, assaults on a daily, torture of unspeakable acts with knives, fire, water, and many more I can barely recall. But the one that gets me the most is his "special games". Which is done down in the cold smelly basement of the house.

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.