Only A Heartbeat Away Novels & Stories

Far below, beyond the reach of lantern light, something answered with a slow, rhythmic heartbeat. It was no longer muffled by miles of stone. It was close. Much closer than anyone had feared.

Only because our son begged to go to the amusement park, my wife, Nyla Frost, a wealthy heiress, ended up in a car accident on the way there, leaving her permanently paralyzed from the waist down. To punish us, she slashed our daily allowance to a mere ten cents. For the past three years, my son and I had no choice but to survive by scavenging through trash every day, even fighting the dogs for scraps. One day, my son was so hungry that he lost all reason. He ate a few crumbs of a cookie that our family doctor had accidentally dropped on the floor. My wife flew into a rage, accusing him of having filthy, thieving hands. As punishment, she made him stand outside in the pouring rain for th

I just close my eyes and rest my hand on my chest. Heartbeat: faint. But steady. I’m still here.

Asher I woke up sweating profusely and my heart beating really hard and fast. I was so scared and it felt like I was having a heart attack. I wasn’t sick before going to bed but the dream I had was so scary and it just did a lot of things to my mental heart.

Tristan said, while I could see his face that reflected desperation for not being able to hide the truth any longer, his chest was moving so fast that it was evident how nervous and agitated he was right now. "My heart began to beat slower and slower, I felt like an eternity passed every time I breathed, I could sense how the tears were being held back on my face, I was reluctant to let them out, thinking that maybe it was a dream a nightmare and at any moment I was going to wake up.

Four soft tones. Like a heartbeat. Like a countdown. Like the sound of something trying to remember its name.

As if someone were sitting right next to me, their body near enough that I could almost feel their pulse through the air. Breathing. Not the mechanical breathing of a ventilator. Real breathing, human breathing, the kind that has texture and variation, the kind that catches and hitches and sometimes sounds like it's trying to hold back something that won't stay contained. And beneath it all, the steady, unwavering beep of the heart monitor. My heart. Still beating. Still fighting. Stay. Someone had said that. Or was saying it. I couldn't tell if the word was in the past or the present, if it was a memory or a real-time whisper. It didn't matter. The word was enough.

Ethan dawdles ahead of him, basking in his what now has transformed into vanity, "The feature is still under development, it's a heartbeats calculator. According to resources, if a person's heartbeat is 83BMP or more than that, they may have fallen in love, is falling in love, or at least are starting to have intimate feelings…" In impression, a good one, the brunette's lips bow, "Woah!" "If the heartbeats are calculated correctly, the door will be locked itself, meaning…" "...the beginning of a blooming love story." The prison gate locks from outside.

Rather I accept my fate, knowing that my time is up. Ready to succumb to my fate, I lower my head to the ground, no longer trying to keep it up. I can hear the steady rhythm of my heartbeat, as it begins to slow. I can hear the pounding of my chest echoing on the tile. Which is when it dawns on me. There's no way it could be my heart. It's far too powerful for it to be my heart.

Her heartbeat is slow and weak. His partner, a younger woman with quick, efficient movements, pulls out her phone to communicate with the hospital. “I’m calling Dr. Green,” she announces, her tone professional as she steps aside for a moment of privacy. “I’m not sure how we can help her heartbeat get stronger, especially after the surgery.” Overhearing bits of the conversation, I catch her saying, “Dr. Green, we have Abby Joseph here with a very faint heartbeat and breathing with assistance only. What are your recommendations for transport?”