Novelas y relatos de Novel Life

Alice hummed and went back to the supply room. We spent a relatively quiet week enjoying the peaceful life of the bunker. For the first time in many years, we had a roof above our heads. We usually stay away from big cities or buildings clusters because seventy out of ten times, it would have someone inside or close by. We used to camp in forests away from people. So being here now was a blessing. I washed my face and cut off my hair shorter. Long hair wasn’t practical. I don’t have the time to brush or find some products to take care of it.

I closed my eyes, trembling as tears escaped and fell into the food. "Happy birthday, Eleanor Shaw," I whispered to myself. "Keep moving forward—onward forever. Even if no one loves you, there's still light at the end of the tunnel. As Jeffrey said, you have enjoyed over 20 wonderful years of wealth and privilege. You've had it good." Just like that, I repeated words of comfort to myself as I wiped away my tears. I moved all my belongings that I had sorted out over the past two weeks in the living room.

*NAOMI'S OFFICE* ________________ Naomi had been buried in her work since she came back. Her latest book would be published in two months. And this novel would be different from her other ones coz it's gonna be bout her. She once fell in love,it didn't turn out great and she would never do that shit again. She once had a friend, but that same friend became her enemy. Maybe she deserved all of this. And now,her nightmare was back. The one who ruined it all. The one who broke her beyond repairs.

I stared at it long enough to consume the thought that I made it this far. I read the chapter from the top and made sure there are less errors. The feeling was unexplainable. I did it. I finished the novel. I took a deep sigh of relief as I saved it and closed my laptop. I stared at the view- mountains, big trees, green valleys, the lake, children playing with their kites-a home. While enjoying the view, a van suddenly stopped in front of our house. I waited until I saw a familiar figure of someone-her dark complexion, her cury hair, and finally..her lovely face.

As to the life we live here and the one back in New York, it's like night and day. Pop has been cleaning up the family business since before I was born; though things were nowhere near what they used to be by then, it was still pretty rough. I'm not sure how no one sees that things are even worst now, that with technology, all you need is a little planning to take out the enemy without leaving a trace.

"It's nothing much. I was just reading a web novel. The author's got a great sense of humor." "What novel is it? I like reading web novels, too. Recommend some good ones to me!" "I've been reading one about a genius doctor. It's pretty interesting. I think the author's pen name… was the Wild Storyteller, or something like that," Serena said. "Considering how good he is at writing, I bet he's good-looking, too!"

♕𝑊𝐴𝑅𝑁𝐼𝑁𝐺𝑆♕ 𓆙mature content𓆙 𓆙contains abusive stuffs𓆙 𓆙murder𓆙 𓆙non-consensual / dubious consent sexual activities𓆙 Iғ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀɴʏ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ. Iᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ғᴏʀᴄɪɴɢ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ ᴛ� � ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴍʏ ʙᴏᴏᴋ. Don't copy my work. This is based on my imagination.

I avoided Marcus and went to the study. When I unlocked my phone, I found exactly what I expected—Mirabelle was livestreaming. In my previous life, she had done the same thing, sharing her "day in the life of a rich family's housekeeper" online. She even claimed she was going to follow the lady of the house and challenge herself to reverse aging in thirty days, going from 40 back to 20. At the time, her viewers were in stitches, flooding the chat with comments. "Ma'am, you'd have to be remade from scratch. If you can go back to 20 in 30 days, I can go back to kindergarten!"

“I did. And so did everyone else in this bus. You are no longer in your mortal bodies, and you now exist as your bare conscience. Hence, you cannot think, and everything you think is a thought is being said aloud. Now, sit.” Once again, I’m somehow sitting without moving an inch. “If I have to repeat this instruction, you will fail to transition, Soul 113.” “Nova,” I grumble, folding my arms, a sign that I’ve given up trying. I don’t know why he keeps calling me a number. My name is Nova. I prefer it to that stupid thing he keeps calling me, like I’m an animal in a farmer’s yard. “I do not have a gender, Soul 113. You refer to me as they, or nothing at all.”