My Stand In Novel Novels & Stories

Stan said waking up in my mind. "Argh do I need to detail you all?" I said rolled my eyes at him. Stan looked at me as if he was reading me. I just averted my eyes. "Don't go home, sleep here first," Stan said standing up and leaving the room. What is he thinking? I hope he doesn't have any bad plans. My brother's thinking is different. TSK. I jumped on the bed, Stan is right here that I go to SDB(Stys Datum Base) to sleep first because it's already night and those who can come and drive me home are almost drunk.

Nygeria I feel cold liquid on my skin, pulling me back to consciousness. I look up as the blurry vision comes to focus; Stephanie stands over me, pouring a bottle of water on my face. This has to be a bad dream; this can’t be real. I am not in a novel getting water poured on me by the school slut. I close my eyes again, hoping to wake in my own bed, but I can still feel the water she’s pouring on me. This is real; I’m in a novel.

After hours of anxiously waiting for Marcus to arrive, I hear the familiar rapping at my windowsill, and my heart skips a beat before thrumming in excitement. Marcus is here. Without even thinking about it, I jump out of my bed and hurry to the window, flinging it open to the window balcony where Marcus is standing, watching me.

Only then I found myself fully prepared to let my imagination run wild in next chapters of my novel. I felt full of determination again, I even already wrote few paragraphs in my head. I kept reciting first sentences while going up in the elevator. Then I got out and rushed to the door but then I heard some noise. I raised my head and saw Tom standing faced at his apartment door. It looked like was staggering on his feet. He was leaning on the door by one hand, the other one was clenched tight. It seemed like he wasn’t aware of me standing, looking at him. Suddenly he raised his fist and punched the wall right next to the door.

I need something like a stand to support the guitar otherwise it will be scratched if I keep it on the floor. I remember seeing a stand in Mr Martinez's working space. I came to the second floor and entered the room. I looked around to remember where I saw it. While I was looking for the stand, I saw many files in his room. When I looked up, the stand was on the top of the shelf. Why is it placed up there? I tiptoed on my legs to reach it but I couldn't reach the stand. Why am I so small? No, I'm not. This rack is taller than me.

It's fucking miles away! "For Pete's sake..." I groan. "Stop resisting your fate and come to Mama!" The cereal box doesn't listen to me, and I hear a chuckle behind me, making my heart leap. It can't be! I spin around to see Stanley standing by the breakfast cereal aisle with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Does the little lady need help?" He asks, looking straight into my eyes with an intensity that paralyzes me for a second. I'm embarrassed at first, but then I remember why I'm here: The box of cereal is just out of reach.

"Daniel." He looked at her for a moment. Something shifted in his careful expression. Not much. Enough. "The kind," he said, "that was always going to arrive. Just sooner than expected." He left. She stood in her doorway holding the envelope. Different from Isla's. Heavier. Properly sealed. She looked at the Mount Sinai envelope on her nightstand. The contract beside it. The small warm apartment she'd built piece by piece into the one place in the world that asked nothing of her.

Somewhere out there, Richard Sterling was almost certainly already planning his next move, Damien Cole already receiving new instructions, the war Alexander had spoken of far from finished. But for tonight, at least, Elena allowed herself to simply sit there, her hand in his, and let the fear rest for a little while. Tomorrow, there would be time enough to fight again. But tonight, in the quiet of his office, with the whole city glittering beyond the glass, Elena let herself believe — just for a while — that whatever came next, she wouldn't be facing it the way she'd faced everything before this. Not alone. Not from behind a carefully constructed wall of self-sufficiency she'd spent years mi

Now, it all made sense. No wonder he always said ponytails looked best on me—Victoria’s signature hairstyle. No wonder he bought me jasmine perfume—Victoria’s favorite. No wonder he stared at me so intensely the first time we met, like he’d seen a ghost. I was a replacement. A stand-in from the very beginning. I put down my glass and started packing. The apartment was Marcus’s, but over six years, my things had seeped into every corner. From the skincare in the bathroom to the clothes in the closet, the art books on the shelves, and our photos on the fridge.

Stаndіng thеrе wаіtіng іѕ a tеrrіblе fееlіng, full оf dread аnd ѕhаmе. Our blосk іѕ nеаrlу dеѕеrtеd, ѕо nоt mаnу реорlе drive раѕt; except fоr the rеgulаrѕ. I wonder whаt thе оthеrѕ thіnk when thеу ѕее me. [Next POV: 'Carrie' in Chapter 74.2]