Noe Vanitas No Carte Novels & Stories

“You two… I don’t even know how to thank you.” Noah’s hazel eyes held hers, soft but serious. “You don’t have to. Just bake. Just smile. That’s all the thanks I need.” *** The luxurious private salon of Cartier on Fifth Avenue gleamed under crystal chandeliers, the air heavy with the scent of fresh roses and vintage champagne. Vanessa Sinclair practically glowed as she leaned over the velvet display case, her manicured finger tapping excitedly on a massive emerald-cut diamond ring.

She threw it on the bed opening another box which has black tie didn’t he have many ties why bother to buy another one but she liked the satin material. Val sighed and opened the last box which had a black cloth. She put the box down, held the cloth in the air and widened her eyes. That’s not cloth it’s lingerie. What’s the point of selling it when it’s made with transparent material. Being naked is best rather than putting on that stupid thing. She threw it on the ground and wanted to put all these weird things in the box when she found a note at the bottom. ‘I warned you baby, now you are doomed’. Val wanted to hide that box when she heard Jack’s laughter from behind which ran a chill down

NTHMUMEYSACHR Violet smirked. She turned her head and looked around. Her gaze landed on the chrysanthemums that were lying on the feet of Jesus. She walked towards it and held the chrysanthemums in her hand. A white card was tied with a brown string on the flowers' stem. A quote was printed on the card. Where there is no belief, there is no blasphemy. -Salman Rushdie "Montenaro, do you remember Siobhan Clarke?" Violet asked Eric.

She was certain it was a beautiful bond that she had secured for her daughter, more like a fusion as she reminisced on that one cold evening that found Vincent and Vanessa sitting on the floor by the fireplace. The air was heavy with the scent of pine and dead leaves, and he held a deck of cards in his hands, shuffling them with a speed and dexterity that made the cards a blur to even she who watched them. Then he laid them out, gently revealing the silent blend of red and black he had spun. "Watch closely," he said, his voice low and conspiratorial. "I will show you something we used to call la main est plus rapide que l'œil."

That was so not necessary and not true, for that matter. He lays a hand over his heart and leans over my desk. I could smell his familiar cologne as he hovers in front of me. "Ouch-" He whispers, "you're breaking my heart, Bella." He furrows his eyebrows and pouts at me. The glint in his eyes tell me just how amusing he thinks this is. "What's there to break?" I wink at him innocently and bite my lip to hide my grin. The tension seemed to break as we both joked around. Luckily for me, my earlier response did not bother him at all.

The year I started middle school, my parents solemnly handed my sister and me each a bank card. "This is your college fund. There's 100,000 dollars in each one. The password is your birthday. Don't touch it unless it's truly an emergency." I listened. I treated that card like a treasure. I never bought a single new piece of clothing. Even my worn-out canvas shoes got patched with glue and worn again. I thought that if I was just responsible enough, I'd live up to my parents' idea of "fairness." Then, after the SATs ended, I wanted to use the money on the card for a graduation trip with my classmates. Instead, the ATM screen flashed a number that burned my eyes: [Balance: $0.00]. At th

I eye it suspiciously before opening it. Violet, I am the type of person to hide things. I am quiet and I am not the kind to show emotions. I hope you find this room to your liking and decorate it to your hearts content. I hope we can at least be cordial with one another as I have not feelings for you at this time. Your truly, Anthony

he raises one to my view, “has one of the rare and expensvie vintages stored.” “Chateau su Sang Noir eighteen ninety-six,” I spell out as he hands it over. “What does that mean?” “Black blood estate. This one here,” he points to a bottle shaped oddly, “is Tenuta Marevelenata eighteen ninety-nine. Means Haunted Sea estate.” “If you look at it that way, this place is haunted with the presence of the maiden.” We burst into laughter at how ridiculous it sounds. “I’ll say we start with this for now. If you may, my kind sir.”

There, in the doorway, Quentin stood lighting a cigarette, watching her—but making no move to follow. "Take me to a print shop," Noelle instructed. Ten minutes later, she emerged with a box of business cards in hand. When they reached her apartment, she handed the box to the valet. "Here. Pass these out to any single woman you meet. I'll make it worth your while." She paid the fare, left a five-star review, and sent him a 1,000-dollar tip. The valet barely glanced at the card before hurrying off to distribute them.

“Ummm... it’s just some kind of fantasy in my mind, I hope you don’t mind this.” “Just go ahead nd I’ll see what’s actually in your mind.” Noah took a sip of the champane. “Okay, here it is. Is there anyone who ever was bade by one with the same gender as him?” Just as I asked the question, the auction was offcially began. Someone began to bid for the Rose from France. “Yeah... Maybe...” Apparently, Noah hestitated to answer this question. Well, the weird idea kept bumping in my head, I had ask him outloud.