Novel & Cerita It's Like The Tide Always Falling And Rising

When I was five, I was always excited whenever it was time for bed. My Grandma Momma will cook our dinner. Let me brush my teeth and comb my long hair. And after that, she will put me into bed and bedtime stories will follow. She told me a lot of fantasy stories, but my favorite was the pirate of the Lost Sea named Escarial. He was the epitome of perfection. Gentleman, handsome, a knight in shining armor to most of the ladies in their land, and most of all, he caught the heart of the brave princess, Athalia.

It correlates so much with mortal life. One minute it's serene; the slightest disturbance sways my body putting me on the alert, but eventually, I relax. Then sometimes, it is like a typhoon. Its currents first pull me away from the safety of the shore, then wave after wave knocks me under, suffocating me, but somehow I make it to the surface. The cycle continues until the storm subsides. "Beautiful, isn't it?" the sudden voice made me jump out of my skin. But to my surprise, "Alaric?"

"Luna, look." I reluctantly opened my eyes, feeling awestruck. The distant clouds filled the entire sky, staining even the sea a brilliant crimson. The sun descended slowly, casting a solemn, mysterious, yet dignified atmosphere, until it reached its peak, fading gradually, and the last ray sank into the sea, leaving only the sound of the rolling tide.

Chapter 383 Cleo I have always been good at what I do but if being perfect comes at a cost then I think that the cast can sometimes take a toll on your mental health or well-being as a whole . It feels like I'm crashing at a speed faster than I could a wave it's like surfing you know when you so if you've got a trust the waves and when the waves come you've got to pick which waves to ride sometimes you like the waves pass and sometimes you go and catch the waves but you sometimes miss and you have to surrender to the water surrendering to the water is one thing but catching a wave that is so huge that you been running for a long time can sometimes bring you to a low that you didn't see comin

“Be with someone who really cares about you.” “Yeah, yeah,” Vanessa said and forced a smile like Amber could see it. “Thank you. But I wish you waited until tomorrow to tell me. It’s Sunday and—” She chuckled “—You’re ruining God’s day for me.” Amber laughed. “Vanessa, every day is God’s day.” Vanessa laughed too, despite herself, and then she laughed some more, hard, for reasons she did not understand, until her guffaws finally died out when her migraines struck her. She winced.

Stepped into the trap. Now I just had to survive it. The elevator descended, carrying me back to ground level. Back to reality. Except reality had just shifted into something I didn’t recognize. And there was no going back.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

If there were mountains, there might just be people. As the day fought and lost to the dark, the little maid noticed the tide rising. What was a sheer drop for the poor children earlier was now just a mere drop. This would make her secret cave uninhabitable during high tide. She made a mental note to learn how often the tide changed. As she sat planning she didn’t notice that she had stopped scrubbing. She was pushed to the floor by another child and scraped her cheek.

Water descended from the sky in minuscule drops that mirrored the light of the waning moon. Each tiny drop was a microcosm of the universe of alternating light and shadow, of shifting energies and swirling galaxies, gleaming like diamonds at one instant and then absorbing light and color in a moment.

I looked up. Over the distant Ferris wheel—its half‑submerged cars still turning in slow, miserable arcs—new words were burning themselves into the low, misty sky. Not HUD‑clean like the bus announcements; these letters dripped, trailing phosphorescent streaks down through the fog as if they’d been written with neon ink. THE TIDE RISES WITH REGRET. THE MORE YOU LINGER, THE DEEPER YOU SINK. “Cool,” Jax muttered. “Love a metaphor that’s also just… literal murder.”

Then she read it slowly. "The tide comes in. Goes out. Comes in again. Always. We stand on the shore. We watch. We wait. We walk into the water when we must. We return when we can. The sea remembers every name. Every touch. Every promise kept and every promise broken. It carries them all. And still it returns. Every morning. Every evening. Without apology. Without explanation. Simply present. Simply endless. I close this book not because the story ends. But because I have told the part that is mine to tell. The rest belongs to the tide. And to you. Whoever you are. Wherever you stand. Whatever shore you face.