Rewrite This Novels & Stories

“With no friends and no wedding party, it wouldn’t seem quite real.” No, it wouldn’t, Gabriel thought crossly. And that was just the point. This marriage wasn’t real. It was a means to an end. “But I understand,” she continued with a sigh. “You don’t want to bother your friends on their anniversary.” She brightened. “Perhaps we could wait a few days, plan something here in Venice and invite them.” “Alright,” Gabriel said through clenched teeth. He would lose this battle to win the war. “Really?” she repeated. “Oh, thank you!” she cried, whirling around in his arms to embrace him. “You’re so good to me!”

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"What did you do? Why haven't I gotten mine?" I smiled. "Why are you asking me about your score?" One of his followers quickly jumped in. "It has to be in the top 50 in the state. They always delay those." I almost laughed. In my last life, my score really had been in the top 50. But this time, I had written everything in red ink. There was no way that was happening. Still, everyone bought it instantly and started congratulating Tyson in advance. He hesitated for a moment, then firecrackers went off outside.

Instead I settled for a simple text. I'm back home. Missing you. And send. ***

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“I guess I’m done being kind.” I wipe my face slowly. That's when I see a number on my wrist. 365. My breath catches in my throat. Maybe it’s a trick of the light. Or a stain from the makeup artist's brush. It burns when I touch it. Not painfully. So I rub at it, harder and harder—but it doesn't fade. Then the timeline clicks into place in my mind. I have gone back into the past. My eyes go wide in shock. Maybe the number is a countdown. My pulse slows.

Wrong if that is even a thing. The end.

Read at your own risk. ****