L'âme Perdue Novels & Stories

he hands me his phone; I look at him confused for a second then nod when I understand and receive his phone I click on the screen and notice there was no lock, I slide the screen down and connect the Bluetooth to the player and then go to YouTube to find a good playlist I type on the search bar and scroll through the first few recommendation, until my gut suggested me to click on a chillin playlist. I start a video and place his phone on the stand; I grab the phone back when the speakers sang a “Love isn’t assured that’s why it breaks your heart Life must be assured so you can protect your families heart atleast …” I wait for 10 seconds before I could skip the insurance commer

I looked up at him from the book, finding it quite hard to look away from those obsidian eyes. "How did you know about that?" He asked curiously. "You said that one word. And I saw that word in this book." I tried pronouncing that word. "Something like purdur?" A slow smirk played at the corners of his lips. "Perdere." He corrected. "Yeah, same." I said. "So, will you help me?" Something passed over his eyes. A strange expression. "You can just ask me what you want to know instead of searching it in the books." He pointed out.

And everything becomes nothing, fading away to blackness. To Be Continued....

I pleaded, hoping he would give me even a sliver of the trust he had for Susan. My words only made him more ruthless. He ripped my winter gears. "You are not worthy of my trust!" The ropes cut into my wrists, holding me in place. The snow buried me, its weight making it impossible to breathe. In my final moments, regret crept in. I regretted being so foolishly in love. Shawn was right. No one would come looking for me; I would die alone in this place. I once thought he would be my happiness, my safe haven.

She sighed and said, “A Grimoire is a book of spells. Every witch has hers. Part of being one is that we can create different spells or potions. Sometimes grimoires are passed down from generation to generation, as it is in our family. Emma will have Queen Clarissa’s grimoire. It is very extensive, to tell the truth.” I nodded silently, wanting to continue asking, but I knew now was not the time. I saw how she closed her eyes for a few seconds. She took a deep breath and then opened them, saying, “spiriti, guida e ritrova ciò che è andato perduto. Trova l’anima perduta in moda che ritorni nel suo corpo.” — Spirits, guide and find what has been lost. Find the lost soul so that it returns to i

I ordered and went inside the room the college had created for me. I removed the jacket and threw it across the room. As what I saw and what happened in the past started to run inside my brain, I sat on the black color bed holding my head with my hands. Tears started to roll down my cheeks remembering what I did. I want to kill myself for hurting her, hurting her to the level where she can't heal. But, she is healed and I'm hurting here. I deserve this. I slept on the bed decreasing the room temperature to the minimum level in the A.C. I don't care if I die frozen, but I don't want to live. Not after realizing what I lost. Ahaana's POV:

She then turned to her son’s grave and spoke still in French “mon précieux petit garçon (my precious baby boy)…mon coeur est brisé de te perdre (my heart is broken at losing you)…Je ne sais pas comment je vais faire ça (I don’t know how I’m going to do this)…sans toi et papa (without you and daddy)…je suis perdu (I am lost)…mais je serai fort pour vous deux (but I will be strong for you both)…et pour vos jeunes frères et sœurs (and for your younger siblings)…tu étais un si bon garçon (you were such a good good boy)…Je suis désolé de t'avoir échoué (I’m sorry I failed you)…s'il te plaît pardonne-moi mon précieux garçon (please forgive me my precious boy)….Je t'aime au delà des mots (I love yo

He wanted so desperately to feel her arms around him again, to hear her voice, to dance with her once more. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he reached out, placing a trembling hand on the polished wood. The coldness of the casket felt like a knife to his heart, a harsh reminder that she would never return. Amani felt his anguish, his longing, his unbearable loneliness. It was a pain she knew all too well—a loss that time could never heal.

Gothic spires of crystallized regret pierced the low sky, and distant screams echoed faintly, swallowed by the endless mist. As they traveled deeper, fragments began surfacing in Roberto’s mind. A woman singing softly, her voice warm and lilting, fingers brushing through a young boy’s hair. *His mother.* Then the same woman crying in the dark, shoulders shaking as she clutched a small wooden cross. Francesco’s voice, sharp and furious, shouting commands that made the house feel smaller. A locked door at the end of a long hallway. Pounding fists. A muffled scream that tore through the silence.

Commander Renaud stands up, she puts away the photos, the reports, the analyses, the file, she turns off the tape recorder, she opens the door, she looks at me one last time, with those eyes that will never let me go, that will follow me everywhere, into my cell, into my trial, into my prison, into my life, into my death, into everything that remains to me, everything that remains to me when one has lost everything, when one has given everything, when one has sacrificed everything, when one has sold everything, betrayed everything, abandoned everything, left everything, forgotten everything, everything, everything, everything. "We will meet again, Ms. Fabron," she says, leaving, closing the