Novel By Anthony Hope Novels & Stories

“Get what you can out of her.” Disappointment blew through me, feeling as if it were hollowing me out. I had expected Anders to argue, snipe, cajole. I hadn’t expected him to wash his hands of me. Even though I had been dreading his interrogation, it hurt to know I meant so little that he couldn’t be bothered to speak with me.

It may be a hard-to-swallow pill, but anything and everything could happen. As a writer, I hope my readers would understand if my works could be seen as dark, sad, and lonely. I will do my best to give you the most bizarre ending you could think of. (It doesn't mean I won't give you happy endings, though. I am open to any kind of endings, and I hope you are, too.) I hope to see you support my next mini-novels, and stories. Thank you! Yours Truly, SUMMERBLAIRZZZ

It's not that Anthony hates, but a sense of hopelessness over the loss of a precious person and the guilt of being left behind. Anthony thought he would never come to this place again. Because this place is filled with memories of Alan. But anyway this place is their favorite place to do camping club research. Anthony ventured to come even though the one he missed was no longer here, not with him now. There can't be, yes he knows that.

I have decided after long thought not to continue this story as it is currently written...I want to restructure and plan it better. A Hope For Moonlight has a lot of potential, but my writing style and organizational skills have changed much over the years since I started it. With that said, I intend to go over the manuscript and create a more detailed outline that will combine the story as I had originally wanted it to be but will be more focused and better organised, it will better detail the prophecies and continue into the next generation so that we may see the fullfillment of the prophecies.

Alex’s mother stood poised as always, elegant in her tailored coat, but her hands trembled slightly as she stepped inside and caught sight of the baby. “My granddaughter,” Anna whispered. Clara gently passed Hope into her arms. Anna held her as if she were made of glass, tears welling in her eyes. “She looks like Alex,” she said softly. “But she smiles like you.” Clara blushed. “She’s named Hope. Hope Vivienne Banks.” Anna smiled through her tears. “A beautiful name. For a new beginning.” She brought out the gifts—a hand-knitted pink blanket, a gold bracelet etched with Hope’s initials, and a tiny book of fairytales. “For her dreams,” she said. “For all the stories she’ll grow up hearing.”