Nothing Short Of A Miracle Novels & Stories

In that moment, an unexpected situation occurred. Suddenly, a bright light radiated from Emily’s chest. Everyone in the room was taken aback, stunned into silence. Their mouths agape, eyes wide open, unable to believe what they were witnessing. The light was so strong and pure, creating a magical atmosphere that transformed the surroundings. Movement in the room seemed to freeze; time felt suspended. All attention turned to Emily, who stood as the center of the light. Mixed emotions filled the air—fear, hope, and wonder. This unexpected miracle brought a glimmer of hope amid the chaos.

My child would've been a boy if it had been born. Benjamin stroked the pendant with a callused finger before smiling self-deprecatingly. "I know I don't deserve to give you this, but our baby… I was looking forward to meeting him. I know I'm a monster—I'll never be able to compensate you for what I've done.

But when darkness sets in, it makes way for a starry night, which then makes us believe in those little things called miracles. And with miracles in mind, another two days pass. There is, what the Doctor is getting overexcited about, a slight decrease in the pressure on his brain. So the very moment, he said that there was not one dry eye in the room, for we all started to believe in something new called faith. Just when we were all starting to lose hope, and everything started to seem dire and bleak, our hearts that were slowly dying, found that silver lining that was pushing through the dark clouds.

Miracles. I don't have faith in them. You either get fortunate or you don't, and that's how it works. Miracles are simply massive quantities of unadulterated luck that have been branded inaccurately and erroneously. Receiving such incredible fortune and then attributing it to divine favor never set well with me. It wasn't a miracle that I passed both the trigonometry and calculus exams in college without studying; I just got fortunate with the multiple-choice questions. In the same manner that someone is fortunate to win the lottery. It all boils down to simple, stupid, and foolish fortune. No miracles are involved.

I nod and she sees me looking at myself in the mirror. "You know Arlo doesn't see a cancer patient when he looks at you. If you need help you have friends to help you get through whatever you decide. Model Perfect has you under contract but if you can't fulfill their expectations does it even really matter? Why don't you model for someone else?"

I chuckle, trying to save it, “I’m just a normal person, trying to give back with Marie’s Soups—” “It does look good on college apps,” she shrugs. “No, I met my required community service hours years ago. I just wanted to give back during the summer—to do a little more,” I explain. Her look of horror tells me I’ve said too much. “I promise I’m not weird,” I blurt. “I hope not,” her brother saunters in unexpectedly. Claire’s fury from earlier shows its head when she turns to him. “Te voy a ser mia,” he says lowly.

But, there is something that I need to believe in… Miracles. Miracles are just second chances if you really think about it, second chances when all hope is lost. So yes, with each ticking second, my heart grows even more fearful; I fear that maybe all the seconds are up. I know that I should have faith, but how can you have faith if the person that you have faith in is the very person that is not here. Do I believe in miracles? I believe that a miracle is just pure coincidence that something has come together at a time you need it the most.

Lea deserved it more than she did. Accepting her faith made her heart quiet and still. Slowly, she stood up. She was gingerly reaching out the clerestory window above the bookshelves. Below the window are the big wing chairs and the oak table, arranged at an angle. The library was now empty. Precariously hanging in the balance, she gingerly reaches for the opening and slides out, but before she can hoist herself up, her leg slips. Oh God! she screams, falling from the top of the mezzanine. Before she reached and crumpled on the floor - someone grabbed and caught her.

Not imagined. Not wished for. Real. The realization settled quietly inside her chest. Not every miracle arrived dramatically. Sometimes miracles looked like sunlight through a window. Coffee growing cold on a bedside table. A husband pretending to lose arguments on purpose. A daughter with impossible dreams and color-coded folders. Sometimes miracles looked exactly like the life people built after surviving the life they thought would destroy them.