November Story Novels & Stories

The message contained a blurry video of more than ten seconds. When I opened it, I froze instantly. The video was shot from a long distance across the building, with the camera pointed directly at our bedroom. In the frame, I was alone, struggling to free myself from under the bed. There was no second person, no suggestive posture, no improper action—only an ordinary person’s embarrassed scene of being stuck and saving herself. But because of the tricky shooting angle and deliberate cropping, it could easily be misinterpreted by people who did not know the truth.

"Then, one day, I was cleaning up his study and accidentally knocked over a wooden sculpture on his desk. He shoved me away and told me I wasn't allowed in there anymore. That was when I noticed the name 'Beatrice' carved into the base." By the time I finished, I couldn't stop crying. All these years, I never dared tell my parents any of it. I didn't want to worry them, and more than that, I was afraid they'd tell me to leave Declan. After all, I was the one who had shamelessly pursued him back then. And now, here I was, pouring my heart out to them about the same man. Wasn't that just proving them right all along? After listening to my story, my parents fell silent.

he said. She looked at the notebook. At the underlined sentence. She thought about November. About Thomas Adeyemi Harlow arriving. About a baby who would be born into a house with this frame on the wall and this bread made every Sunday and this story of a man who had written a love letter from Geneva in 1977 that had become the foundation of something that changed how the world understood people who survived things. She looked at Ethan. “Come here,” she said. He came. She kissed him in the bedroom with the notebook in her hand and the Sunday outside and the city below and everything quiet and warm and exactly right.

Eyes tired. The leader looked at the ground. “Remembering makes us sad. Every story ends in bleeding. So we chose not to. We chose peace.” Nova didn’t argue. She sat. For 40 days she sat in their square. On day 1 she told Luna’s story. On day 10 she told Suri’s. On day 20 she told Mina’s. On day 30 she told Em’s. She didn’t preach. She just told. On day 40 she asked: “Do you feel lighter or heavier?”

Who knew she could end up having a family with the gangster that kidnapped her and turned her into a sub, sounds absurd but she loves it that way. Guess her story also has a happy ending and she can say they all lived happily ever after. Although they will keep having battles to fight, together, they are strong and will always overcome every battle. Ninety days turned into forever. THE END.

Let someone hurt this time. TBC Stay connected with me on I*******m for future updates and let's interact readers. I* I'd : nove.l375 https://i*******m.com/nove.l375?utm_medium=copy_link

Eleven said. "What do you mean?" “Forget it, if you're not really hungry, can I take your share? I'm starving and to survive here I need energy” "Survive here? What does it mean? Are you going to stay here, like the people my father paid to keep me company?” "Yes" "I don't need someone like you! Get out of here!” "Yes, that's what I want too" Eleven said and came out of Nathan's room, he returned to the dining table and saw Eva still crying beside her husband.

The limits are limited for everyone who doesn't care what a blessing is for can't understand why they were sent into this world but because few people try this kind of stupidity we always found a new and a great story. As you can have my own example, I'm telling you the story of that one person who alone triumphs the world and also I'm telling you about the one who doesn't care about the value of human blood, or maybe he knows…,? Who knows!? Finally they reach the place where they wanted to, Jenny has something in her mind. She is thinking what if the address is not right, what if the man is the culprit who’s sitting inside in his house, and other confusing thoughts are floating in her head.

Ivana cocked her head to the side. "Remember I promised to fess up everything, I think it's time, Ivana, I know it's hard to believe what I'm going to say but please be patient, I'll explain everything to you. The truth is this world is the world I created, in short, we're inside my novel," She confessed. A burst of laughter tore the silence in the room, "Nice one," Ivana laughed out aloud. "I know it's hard to believe but it's true," Arielle let out a nervous laugh.

He returned because of the light. He had been thinking about April alive in pieces. He had the October grey-green in the notebook and the January flat grey described but not yet attended to in person, and he had the April alive in pieces from the girl's presentation but not yet seen. November was none of these. November was the month between October and January — the transition, the becoming, the grey-green beginning its movement toward the flat grey. He had not attended the November coastal light. He had not drawn it. He thought: the year of the attending is not complete without November.