Mourning Never Comes Novels & Stories

I am twenty-four, mourning the loss of my daughter alone, without anyone to ask how I feel. No one cares. “And I didn't?” The words slip past my lips like venom. He says nothing, and I finally understand: I never mattered.

The journey felt both eternal and fleeting, my mind lost in a labyrinth of emotions and unanswered questions. We traveled across vast landscapes, the changing scenery reflecting the passage of time. The familiar sights of the park drew closer, and my heart grew heavier with each passing mile. Finally, the carriage came to a stop at the entrance of the park, where a gathering of mourners had already begun. Stepping out of the carriage, I was greeted by the hushed whispers of condolences and the solemn faces of our family's closest friends. The air was thick with sorrow, a palpable weight that hung over the park. I took a moment to compose myself, straightening my mourning attire and wiping aw

The words hung in the air, a testament to the enduring ache that Sophia's departure had left in his heart. Margaret, Sophia's grieving mother, nodded in solemn agreement. Tears welled up in her eyes, reflecting the pain that words struggled to convey. "I never thought I'd have to bury my child. It's a pain I can't put into words." Her grief, etched on her face, resonated with the profound sorrow that no parent should endure.

Her absence was a constant ache, a wound that wouldn't heal, a silence that was deafening. The grief was not merely overwhelming; it was an all-consuming tidal wave that swept them away, a relentless storm that tore at the very fabric of their beings. They cried for her, their tears a never-ending river of sorrow, their sobs a symphony of pain that seemed to resonate with the very universe. They held each other, their bodies wracked with agony, their minds shattered by a loss so profound that words were woefully inadequate.

"I haven't been eating properly. It'll correct itself." "In that man's house." "Mum." "I'm not starting anything." Neva came to stand beside her at the glass. For a moment neither of them spoke. The city moved below them, indifferent and constant. "I just need to say one thing and then I won't say it again." Corinna closed her eyes briefly. "Say it."

The year Daniel went broke, I swallowed every last drop of pride.  I took a job as a dancer at a shady nightclub just to pay off his debts. We lived in a forty-dollar-a-night basement room, surviving on stale energy bars and tap water.  I became the laughingstock of everyone we used to know. Eight years later, he pulled off the ultimate comeback and clawed his way back to the top. His very first move?  Bringing his high school sweetheart, Mia, straight into our home. At his victory party, in front of a room packed with people, he laid down three rules for me. "First, keep your distance in public. Mia’s a total germaphobe. "Second, Mia is sensitive. From now on, tell people yo

She was like a lifeless pond. That was when he realized she was already saying her goodbyes. Zack's heart ached, and the wolf within him recoiled in distress. He tried to reach out through their mark, but... "The temporary mark… is it gone?" That thought crushed him completely. His phone was blowing up with calls from family, friends, and Nancy. Even then, he could not bring himself to look. One question haunted him: Why did Maggie cut all ties? She had told the Elders about her decision half a month ago...

But I never really left. Death is the perfect alibi. When you’re declared gone, you can finally watch the living without interference, without suspicion. You see who mourns, who forgets, who dares to move on. And I watched them. Every second. Every move. Like a shadow they couldn’t shake off.

Lines of sorrow etch his face, marking the passage of time spent mourning the departure of a beloved figure. There's a palpable heaviness in the air around him, an intangible shroud of grief that seems to envelop Lucas. His every gesture and expression tell a story of profound loss, painting him as someone navigating the intricate landscape of mourning, grappling with the absence left behind by his mother's passing. "Lili?" His voice rasped from behind me and it sent jolts of shivers down my spine. Shivers I hated because what the hell?

Donovan had not come begging for it. Perhaps he was too ashamed. Perhaps he did not even know about it, or perhaps my mother-in-law had finally understood something. Either way, my connection to her ended with that money and the prepaid fees. It would be the best ending if both of us could find peace. The evening glow filtered through the balcony glass door, painting the living room in warm golden orange. I stood up, slid open the glass door, and stepped onto the balcony. The evening breeze was gentle, carrying the fresh scent of early summer plants growing.