Nine Nine Trailer Novels & Stories

"I did not drive fifteen minutes with a bag full of my entire life to miss the candles." My mom laughed and finally lit the nineteen candles, the whole kitchen glowing gold for a second, and then — because apparently we weren't skipping tradition just because the yard was in boxes — she grabbed the phone off the counter, hit play, and "September" came blasting out tinny and bright, and she pulled me straight up out of my chair mid-blow. "Mom, I didn't even make my wish—" "You'll wish while you dance. Efficient."

Adrian's breathing became shallow. His eyes reached the final line. Never allow anyone to assemble the Ninth Cipher. If the Ninth Cipher is completed... History will not change. It will be erased. Before he could process those words... His phone rang. Unknown Number. He answered. Silence. Then a calm male voice spoke. "We've been waiting for you, Dr. Vale." The line disconnected. At that exact moment, every television in the apartment turned on by itself. Every screen showed the same image. A black background.

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I had a dream while I was sleeping that night. I dreamed of a young girl starting a list of times she was being overlooked in a brand new journal. She wrote down the number "1" on the first page. As she wrote it down, she muttered, "Once this reaches the 99th time, I won't want Mom, Dad, Jeff, and Annie anymore." After that, the girl stared at the number "1" in contemplation, hesitated before changing it to "0.5" eventually. The entries read, "Mom and Dad came back from their business trip and bought me and Annie new clothes, but they got my size wrong. It was too small. My arms and legs were sticking out, and all my classmates laughed at me. I felt so sad."

“I vividly recall the car’s plate number, and I can't be mistaken.” Once again, they were all ears to him. "Tell it. What exactly was the plate number of that car?” “HRL 2997.”

My voice was hoarse as I asked her, "Lucy, are you sure you want to divorce me over a drinking-game challenge? This is our ninth divorce. I won't remarry you again. I'll ask you one last time. Do you really want this?" I remembered how we had gotten together. She pursued me first, staging nine elaborated declarations of love that people still talked about on campus. And yet, on the very night we registered our marriage, she'd asked for a divorce. At the time, I had asked why. She had smirked and said, "I humiliated myself declaring my love for you nine times. Even if I divorce you nine times, you can take it. You owe me this!" That was why I endured all those humiliations, telling myself it

Lucas placed a sealed envelope on the table. Inside were new identity papers and flight documents. "According to your plan, you will leave by private plane in one month. Once you are gone, that man will never find you." I held the folder to my chest. "Thank you, Lucas." He bent down and wiped the cold sweat from my forehead. "You do not need to thank me. You pulled me out of that gutter. I will spend my life serving you, my Principessa." I nodded. "The stronger painkillers? I cannot spend the entire month in bed."

After Isak's old flame, Julia, came back to town, she made a bet with me: he gets nine chances to choose between us in life-or-death situations. The one he abandons for the ninth time has to walk away. I agreed. The ninth time, a single phone call from Julia was all it took for Isak to leave me on the side of the road again. "Drive! Go!" Isak's voice was sharp, laced with a panic I'd never heard before. I clutched the gunshot wound in my stomach, blood seeping through my fingers, staining my white silk shirt.

Asking too much about a patient's personal matters would cross a line. "Don't worry, Ms. Grant. The eighty percent figure came from our clinical trials. There have already been successful recoveries." Vivian nodded and agreed to the treatment. When she closed her eyes, a faint current passed through her body. She could still feel it. After a while, she fully quieted her mind and, following the guidance, began to recall the car accident. She remembered the car rolling down the cliff. A man had risked his life and jumped after her, holding her tightly and shielding her with his body.

My father had already seen it, and so had Kellen, but this was new to everyone else. “Wait!” Lyric suddenly exclaims. “Roll back that footage about 3 seconds.” Damon complies, “Pause.” Lyric points to the big screen that we can all see including those on the monitors. “Him, that’s Twenty-Nine.” “Whose Twenty-Nine?” I ask.