Lives To Tell The Tale Novels & Stories

The one who nearly ended her dance career by breaking her legs. If it were not for Lance, my ten years of unspoken love might have never had the chance to be voiced. I thought my devotion had moved her. Now I realize that I was nothing more than a lifeline she grabbed onto in her darkest days. I could never have imagined that this so-called love would indirectly cost my mother her life. It was because of her passing that I learned the truth. The woman I had always thought was ordinary and gentle was in fact the only heiress of the top-tier Stone family in the capital.

How to pass on a story without becoming a monument yourself. As we stepped out into the crisp evening, the first few fairy lights on the trail winked on in the distance, a silent, steadfast promise. The story was over. The living—the deep, rich, complicated, and profoundly ordinary living—was all that remained. And for the first time, with the bronze lie growing salal in the town roundabout and the quiet hum of the hearth in our hearts, that felt not like an ending, but like a destination, finally reached.

“There's nothing to tell,” I replied. “Oh, I'm sure there is. Everyone has a story. I'm very curious to hear yours. If we're going to act as lovers, then we need to know things about each other.” There was no way I was just going to open up my life to him so I decided to give him a quick summary, knowing he wouldn't stop asking if I didn't. “There really isn't much to tell. I'm the youngest of three children and both my parents are dead.”

“But isn’t it crazy that our lives could fit into one book?” I looked at him with a profound smile. “Oh my God! That has to be the most accurate thing I’ve heard today. Everything we’ve experienced, all in one book. The good, the bad, and the ugly. Now I feel so inadequate. What qualifies me to even tell the story of both our lives?” Jared only smiled wider. “To the bold belongs the fortune.” I looked at him with a curious smile. “Where did that come from?”

“You scared the poor boy, dude.” That was the first response he got from Damien Lau after he finished telling the whole story. The doctor visited him today, and he served some mineral waters to him. He was just a bachelor who didn’t really care about food at home and only had mineral waters with him. Despite being a bad host, the painter still dared to pour his heart out by telling the story that bothered him since yesterday. Yeah, he had told his friend about his ‘experience’ with his student yesterday.

Tonya made a moan of disgust and walked towards the small kitchen to get her chores done for the brief moment Thaddeus was out of the house. Thaddeus slept round the clock. It was a dip of fresh air for Tonya, this was the only moment she got herself to read. She always imagined living in a fancy house with a massive archive of books in her library. If she had the power, her house would be just a huge library. She smiled at herself as the thought crossed her mind once again. It was always difficult, with everyone around, the constant greetings and chatting and so on, the noise from down the street, cars honking and the occasional noises of people fighting or shouting about one thing or the o

It was Francine. I gave a nod but tried to maintain a stern face. Alex ran to me and asked, "So are we riding an airplane? " "Yes we are little boy." I said smirking at him and messing up his hair. The sound of horns from the taxi signaled that we were all about to have a major change in our lives. I am Attorney Providence Dalton. Provi to my my closest friends.. Atty. Pro to my colleagues… This is my story.

"He always has an excuse." "He doesn't know I'm only seven diary pages away from leaving him." "I got my period today, and the cramps were so bad I couldn't get out of bed. Dexter came home and brought me some painkillers without me asking." "He said it was the same kind he'd gotten for Brianna last time. She said they worked great, so they'd probably help me too." "I said thanks, but no thanks." "One page left. Then I'm done." The last page had only two lines.

But now it sat beside new additions—a photo of Lila’s first steps on the training ground, a drawing she had made of three figures holding hands under stadium lights. Truth had been told. Love had won. And in the years stretching ahead, it would keep winning—on the pitch, in their home, and in the legacy they left for every dreamer who followed. The floodlights waited patiently in the distance, ready for the next generation to write their own stories under their glow. The End.

"Used to be. Gave it up when the stories started costing more than they were worth." That answer carried weight, the kind that invited questions but also warned against them. I set the mug on the low table in front of me and leaned forward slightly. "What kind of stories?" "The kind that get people hurt when they come out wrong. Or when they don't come out at all." I felt a flicker of recognition then, something tugging at the back of my mind like a half-remembered name. "You sound like someone who has been burned by the industry."