Requiem For A Dream Novels & Stories

Julius Caesar stood in front of the tomb and took from the pocket of his black blazer a knife, which hovered under his open palm, and let the blood dripping from it drip on the earth, while his mouth muttered things in languages extinct for millennia. A call from the darkness. Sheila and Augustus were still being disturbed in their dreams. Miranda was sitting on a rock, looking at the crystal clear water flowing below, although a mist that had appeared out of nowhere began to cover everything. The earth above the coffin began to tremble, the echo of a beating heart; the sky darkened into a total pitch. Underneath the earth a cadenced breathing began, and gradually, it became deep. Inside the

Once Julia's asleep on my chest on our bed, I allow myself to break down fully with not witnesses as my heart wrenching sobs and fleeting thoughts that I wish Liam all the happiness in the world; but I wish upon a star that it was us and not that other man who had children with Liam. Falling asleep tonight in bed with my female half, my female soul mate but we're missing our other soul mate; who is in the arms of another man and forever. Liam's P.O.V.

“I took away the only sister you had in this world. I truly have no right to see you again. But there’s one question that has been haunting me. Even if it costs me my life, I need to hear your answer.” I stayed silent. He stared at me for a long time before his voice finally broke. “That question is… During our four years of marriage, even if you were with me only for revenge, was there ever a moment, or a single second, when you were sincere with me? When you loved me?” West looked at me almost reverently. His body shook slightly, desperate for an answer. I didn’t hesitate to reply, “No. West, every single second I was forced to be with you these past four years disgusted me.”

Kris laid in bed, eyes wide, staring at the ceiling. She never experienced that type of dream before. It felt so real. Reaching mindlessly to the nightstand, she grabbed her vape, taking a long drag and holding it in. She exhaled, letting her shoulders drop and her eyes close. She thought about the events as they played out in her dream. She was giving a tattoo. It was a beautiful design she made specifically for Elena. They kept locking eyes, making it too hard for her to concentrate.

A figure—a woman in heels—walked away, her silhouette tall, elegant, final. “Don’t leave me,” Selena whispered in the dream. Her voice cracked like glass. But the figure never turned. She woke gasping, clutching her sheets with damp fingers, tears streaking her face. Beside her, Damien stirred instantly, his hand moving to her back. “Selena, what is it?” His voice was sharp with worry, the kind that comes from carrying too much fear for too long. She couldn’t answer. She was still half in the dream, still seeing the shadow of that retreating figure.

I had dreamed about this wedding more times than I could count. For five whole years, I revised and refined it. I stayed up countless nights to piece together my vision of perfection. Nobody knew every detail better than I did, from every angle of the lights to every shade of the flowers. I memorized them all by heart. Today's rehearsal brought out a crowd. Officially, it was just a rehearsal, but the scene was as grand as the real thing. Jason even called in a pretty well-known photographer from his circle. I knew him as well, and his name was Zeke Wood.

By the seventh year of my relationship with Vanessa McBride, she inherited everything her late sister, Rebecca Holloway, had left behind, including her brother-in-law, Derek Holloway. Every time Vanessa returned from Derek's room, she would hold me close and whisper softly, "Just wait a little longer, Grant. Once I give him a child, we'll finally have our wedding." It was the only condition her family had imposed for her to inherit the McBride legacy. In the six months after returning to the capital, Vanessa went to Derek's room regularly. At first, it was once a month. Then, once every few weeks. Eventually, it became almost every other night. And after six months of being alone every

Then there were the fangs and the biting— Yeah—how high school is it to have dirty dreams about a vampire? To hell with it, because in these dirty dreams, Gaia had the best sex she'd ever had. It had gotten so bad, that on nights she didn't dream of him, she'd lie in bed using all her might to conjure his spirit. When these dreams did happen, Gaia could not control them. She always woke the next morning, sometimes sore, in her bed, alone, and fully clothed in pajamas that she never remembered putting on.

he asked looking directly into my eyes. “I guess it’s a mystery we will never be able to solve?” I replied. If I could read his mind, I’m sure he would be like just tell me this your name so I could drop all this problem on your head. Mother given name has never been used by Dreamers, it’s one of the rules that makes us different from other people who can travel through realms. If your real name was to be discovered, you would be locked up in a building and all your colleagues problem would be placed into your hands to solve for them and for centuries those that have fallen prey to divulging their names have always died before solving even one person’s problem. Well only one person has falle

“No. That’s not what this is.” I shoved him away and scooted to the far edge of the bed, putting distance between us. “Then what is it? Do you know what I just dreamed about?” My voice cracked as tears welled in my eyes. “Your funeral, Killian. The mausoleum was in pieces.” I didn’t say that I felt like every person he’d ever killed had gathered around me as I looked into his coffin. I didn’t mention the girl who looked like a mixture of the two of us I’d seen kneeling in front of the stone.