Rewriting Life Novels & Stories

he raises an eyebrow in my direction and sighs at my silence, “you seem to have made your life revolve around CF and forget that there is a world beyond the walls of your room” “I had no choice at birth,” I exclaim with exaggerated annoyance and get up abruptly from the chair, causing it to fall but no matter, “you think it's so easy to go out into the world and put my best face forward! No, you don't, you are in good health, while I remain with stupid cannulas in my nose because my lungs are unable to create more oxygen, day by day I think about death and I come face to face with it when I see myself in the mirror” My nostrils are dilated, my breathing accelerated by rage and tears flood my

That's something he told me a long time ago, just after the twins started high school, and I was feeling old and frumpy. At thirty-four, I was far from it, but back then, I felt out of place and out of sorts, and my mind would give me no peace. Now three years later, I'm more sure of myself, more confident in this phase of my life, with just one niggling shadow of darkness that always seems to be there, hanging over me. My life until now has been filled with more joy than that broken child I once was could imagine. I've come a long way from who I had been on that dreary day when I thought my life was over, and yet, every once in a while, amid the joy, there was always this thing that clung.

Without waiting for his stunned reply, I slammed the door and got into the car, instructing the driver to start the engine. As the car pulled away and I watched the trees along the roadside blurring into streaks of green, the anger that had been building in me began to simmer down. I thought of my late father, of the empire he'd built with his own two hands, and I couldn't help but slap myself mentally. In my past life, I'd been blinded by love, and I owed my father an apology. This time, I wouldn't make the same mistakes. Never again. But when I got home after handling a few errands, I was stunned to find Rebecca, Freddie, and my mother, Christina Brewer, sitting on the couch together, all

An unscrupulous company discharges toxic wastewater into the river, causing my whole family to be poisoned because we rely on that river for survival. Everyone in my family, including my aunts and uncles, lives in the same village. We're all waiting for an urgent antidote delivery to save our lives. My boyfriend is Harrison Somers, and his company is the only one with the antidote. So, I ask him for it. He agrees to come but doesn't show up after a long time. Ultimately, my family members die after being tormented by the toxic wastewater because they don't have the antidote. Meanwhile, Harrison shows up at the hospital with his childhood sweetheart because she accidentally sliced her fin

This worked on the new papers that were published at least ten years prior. A lot of people lost credibility and then their jobs. "That's why I'm trying to live this life better." "But are you? You are still copying others' skills and blessings. You're stealing others' works." "It's different. I'm not claiming them to be mine. I don't tell anyone that I have their skills or blessings." "But you wished for the fame," said Jonathan. He was right; I did wish for it. I wanted to prove that I had changed from my first life. Success was my key for that future.

If there was any chance that he was reading at all, I was going to make it count, and I picked up where I left off. I was completely caught off guard and it took awhile before I felt like I had escaped even a little from a cage of restraining sadness. It was a cage I became trapped in as the feeling of loss draped everything in my world. My world became gray and gloomy. But then came Brian, and day-by-day I began to see things repaint themselves and return to their colorful splendor as my world was reinvented. Life is a highway, and life is a beach and life is precious and it’s all the innumerable clichés that people have discovered and cemented throughout the years. But most of all, life is

Then she writes a single additional paragraph at the end, which she titles, simply: What I know now that I didn't know at the beginning. The paragraph reads: I thought the second life was for correcting the first. I know now it was for learning what the first life was actually teaching. Every mistake was information. Every choice I didn't make told me something about what I actually valued. The first life was not a waste. It was the research. The second life is the practice that the research made possible. I needed both. I am grateful for both.

“Existing memories might be reinterpreted or re-framed to fit the new, less painful narrative. Or, most profoundly, he might effectively… redo his memories. Re-write them entirely. His brain might construct an entirely new personal history, one that is more palatable, less traumatic, allowing him to function and move forward without the burden of the past that caused him such immense suffering.” Redo his memories. Re-write them. The thought chilled me to the bone, a profound, terrifying understanding settling in my gut. Adrian, living a life where I didn’t exist, or where I was a benign stranger, or even worse, someone entirely different from the man who had loved and then broken him. My car

"Why do you get to be this happy? You destroyed everything I had. You destroyed the Sterling family. What gives you the right to live like this?" "Destroyed you?" I looked at the man who was still refusing to wake up from his delusions and almost laughed. "Wyatt, from beginning to the end, the only person who destroyed you… was yourself. "It was your arrogance, your selfishness and your stupidity that ruined everything you had. "As for why I get to live this happily…" I turned my head and looked at Joseph. His eyes were filled with nothing but warmth as he looked at me. I smiled back at him, then turned to Wyatt again, speaking clearly. "Because I chose the right person."

“No. We rewrote it.” The words struck Savannah with the weight of prophecy. They were children, yes, but they had borne the storm of a legacy soaked in blood, in experiments, in stolen love. And yet here they sat, rewriting destiny in whispers, in love, in the simple defiance of surviving joyfully. Savannah’s hand tightened against her heart. “They’re right,” she whispered to herself. “It wasn’t just broken. It was rewritten.” Colton emerged from behind her, resting his chin upon her shoulder. He had heard, too. “Our daughters,” he murmured, pride cracking his voice. “Stronger than us both.”