Make Room For Gloom Novels & Stories

*Amber* Lying in bed, I find myself staring at the grimy, hole-riddled ceiling, which certainly doesn’t help my already sour mood. The empty grey walls seem to close in on me, and the entire space feels like a suffocating prison, deepening my sense of despair. I shut my eyes tight, hoping to find solace in the darkness, but my mind betrays me with vivid images I desperately wish to forget… pictures of Adis and that little blonde, laughing and enjoying their time together.

Gloss POV The hotel room was dim, lit only by the faint glow of the city through the heavy curtains. The rain outside had slowed to a soft patter, but the energy between us was still alive, charged, impossible to ignore. I lay on my side, eyes fixed on the ceiling, pretending to be asleep, while Dream’s form shifted beside me. The bed felt smaller than it should, the space between us non-existent, and I could feel the tension vibrating through the mattress. > [System Alert: Mission Generated]

~Amara~ “Welcome to my safe space,” Katherine said and closed the door behind us. I walked into the unfamiliar room, one that I hadn’t been in before. It looked depressing; almost like the person who lives there doesn’t want anything that has to do with happiness. It was painted in dark gray, and the only splash of a little color in it was the ashes that were in a gourd. “This is your room?” I asked, my gaze moving all over the properties in the room.

He thought about the room in its funeral condition — the grief in the room, the south windows letting in the full afternoon light, the brightness that Catherine had described as making the room unusable in summer. He thought about grief needing the managed light. Not the darkness — not the blinds drawn against the world — but the light at the correct height, the light that could be received or declined, the light that did not insist. He thought about the high south window above the head height — the light entering at the ceiling level, the room lit without glare, the brightness diffused across the ceiling plane and descending gently into the room. He thought about the funeral reception in a

Mr. Mario's room, a dimly lit and confined space, was a reflection of his tumultuous thoughts and his increasingly desperate situation. The dwindling days of September cast long shadows through tattered curtains, further accentuating the gloom that seemed to envelop him. He paced back and forth, the aging floorboards groaning beneath his footsteps, as he tried to come to terms with the harsh reality that time was running out.

I was already feeling like I was going a bit insane. The man had not been courteous enough to give me a good enough room. Hell, he did not even let me stay in the room where we had had the not-so-pleasant conversation that led to the whole thing in the first place. No, he moved me into a smaller room, one that was dark and murky. 'Gloomy,' he had called it with a smile on his face before he left me to suffer and rot.

This was room 6, and it was empty. Gloria felt nervous, and she wanted to avoid anyone who made her uneasy. She said hurriedly, "If there's nothing else, I'll leave first." After that, she walked slowly because of her injured legs. Gloria was eager to get rid of the person in front of her who may pose a threat to her and limped out. In Mike's eyes, it was funny. Mike's hand was in the pocket of his pants. He watched Gloria walk to the door of the room. He didn't stop her, as if he didn't care that she was leaving.

"Sometimes our life changing turn seems so miserable in present that our vision to see future blurs out" Author's POV A beautiful room decorated simply with less furniture and a light purple colour paint in walls with white in contrast was today filled with darkness. The curtains and small round led lights tugged in the ceilings were off too with only a sob left to hear with hiccups consuming the silence in the room.

[Alexander] Gloom was all around me, as I had just finished painting my living room. Gone was my Dolce & Gabbana suit from this morning’s impromptu meeting with Mr. Gasser’s accountant, and in its place was the oldest denim pants and faded blue t-shirt. Most of the blues I wore was now turned to grey from all the stains, and as the grey walls hugged me, I felt the strong urge to throw whatever was left in the paint tin over my head and just drown in the sorrow.

If they were to be happy together, her mother would certainly be even happier. Gloria jogged her memory a little and then continued the story. Gloria's sickness that day was, of course, an act, and Gloria perfectly pretended to be sick. She laid on the bed in the clean and white single room in the hospital where the bedsheet was white, the blanket was white, and everything was white. They made Gloria's skin appear to be even more pale and weak. That large single room, however, not only made Gloria appear to be very well off as even the ward that she was staying in was a single room with a couch, decorations, and everything, but it also precisely made Gloria seem lonely and had no one to depe