Outlive Author Novels & Stories

It was where I, Harvey Rhett, 19 year old undergraduate from the prestigious Starglint College and heir to BlueStream Advercomp lived – with my family… until things happened. ** I used to believe there was nothing better than a quick morning jog on my street, Vine Cutaways, with the clear morning breeze trickling down my windpipe, the melodious but unstable, high-pitched chirrups of birds filling the atmosphere and the cold, sweet feeling of perspiration sliding out of my skin as I waved at old folks with a smirk etched on my face. I used to believe a lot of things and one was that I was untouchable with all of my parents' wealth and fame but time, and murders, and Maisie changed my percepti

In my previous life, Derick had his fling with his so-called 'sister' Jasmine before he ever knew me. All the while, unaware of the truth, I was running the mafia business and raising their child myself. They were busy dreaming about their love child and blowing through the cash I made, which ended up costing my son his life. I poured my soul into making their kid my successor, and they just sat back and enjoyed the spoils. My boy and I? We were just pawns in their perfect life! Fate handed me a do-over, and this time, Derrick and Jasmine would be dealt with a well-deserved retribution!

It didn't. I'll kill him. I'll kill Dylan. ****** Thoughts on the book so far? Drop a comment, I'd love to hear what you think.

I took a deep breath and tried typing the words. Just type anything Kath, don't stop. Yes just type, ignore the errors, just write. Just let the words out. Then I stopped when I suddenly felt my hand got tired. I checked the word count and it was already four hundred and fifty. Atleast. “Tim, are you still alive there?” I asked but my focus is still on the screen with my hands busy hitting the keys. “ He died.” “Who?” I replied. “ I wonder why authors love killing their characters.”

"You had luck. Eloive didn't. You are alive, Eloive is only a walking corpse" ****** Author's Note: I hope you're enjoying this story! Please drop a like, leave me comments and add it to your library. .

"He isn't Rowan anymore. He’s a 'Logic Bomb.' If I don't 'Format' him, he will consume the last of the 'Legacy Data.' He will eat the memory of the Earth itself just to keep himself 'Online.'" I looked at the Author. He looked so kind. So grandfatherly. But then I looked at the desk. Next to his sketchbook was a jar. Inside the jar were thousands of tiny, flickering lights. "What are those?" I asked, my voice a hollow whisper. "Characters," the Author said simply. "The ones who didn't 'Test Well.' The ones who asked too many questions. I keep them as 'Reference.'" I realized then that the Author wasn't a creator. He was a **Hoarder**. He didn't want a "Perfect Life" for me; he wanted a "Perf

He said stubbornly. “No,” I agreed. “Because she made that choice, she was alive to make it. she is gone now and I am responsible for what she left behind.” One of the elders scoffed. “So, now you want to profit from your grandmother’s generosity?” I turned to look at him. “No, I want to survive.” The whispers quietened.