Saddest Books Ever Novels & Stories

Cela remains disappointed. "C'mon. It's not like they bought everything. They just thought of giving the books as Christmas presents apart from the corporate giveaways. You must know that your mother enjoyed your first book so much. Too bad that she passed before the second one is out," Nanny Rita continued. "You've always been loyal to her," Cela said.

The book store was right around the corner, enough to let Amy get few minutes of alone time. "what kind of book should I buy? These romantic novels make me feel extremely miserable about my life", she whispered. "Maybe I am on another planet unlike the characters in these books because I have never felt that way about any man before." Truly it was tiring and exhausting reading these books. Apparently, they make her expect things she would never get from Jack, thereby leaving her heart broken.

contraposed Zylah with visible skepticism. "The two stories are sad and tragic "I caught myself talking, and I had to clear my throat to ward off the discomfort in my throat with the words. "But while no one has yet written a similar script, how about surrendering to the existing novels that we know we will never live?

Jane hadn't heard of the book until she was in high school. "How long was it?" For some reason, Jane had to know. "I don't remember. Three hundred, four hundred pages. And sad. It's the saddest book I ever read." "A Tale of Two Cities is sad, too." Were all long books sad? You'd think that after someone had read four hundred pages, the least he or she'd deserve was a happy ending. "Do you have it here? The Yearling?" "No. It was from the library. What do you want to make for dinner tonight? Maybe burgers, salsa, and guacamole? Tell Mom I'm going over to Sarah's house to study for the math test. What about you? What are you doing?"

Other shelves have folktales, and even romance novels. “Since when have this library being here?” I marvel at its sheer size, joy swelling in my heart before a sudden pang grips my heart. Damon, my love, may never be able to see this library with me. When he's gone, we won't be able to read together, eat together or make love. The realization hits me hard, and I cry harder, overwhelmed by a mix of emotions. Sinking to the floor amid the books, I let the tears flow, the pain of living without him seems unbearable.

One was from her favorite book 'HOPELESS' by Collen Hoover. . #TBC

I have never had big dreams of becoming a CEO who owns companies. I think that I achieved my dream, I wrote a book, not a book, but a collection of pathetic poems about life. When I say pathetic, I mean sad, because sad is all that my life has ever been. But I guess that nothing lasts for one hundred years, and I am one of them. I enjoyed some parts of my life, the earlier parts and some parts of my later life too. My life has always been between pages in a book, that is all. I have always enjoyed art, manipulated it behind closed doors. It’s not an interesting life, though it is a favorite for me. My favorite story is Africa Kills her Sun, by Ken Saro Wiwa, I have read the story ever since

BIOGRAPHY Mercedes M. Yardley is a dark fantasist who wears stilettos, red lipstick, and poisonous flowers in her hair. She is the author of the short story collection Beautiful Sorrows, the novellas Apocalyptic Montessa and Nuclear Lulu: A Tale of Atomic Love and Little Dead Red, and the novels Nameless: The Darkness Comes and Pretty Little Dead Girls: A Novel of Murder and Whimsy. She often speaks at conferences and teaches workshops on several subjects, including personal branding and how to write a novel in stolen moments. Mercedes lives and works in Sin City with her family and menagerie of Strange and Unusual Pets. You can reach her at www.abrokenlaptop.com.

" *** The pages that I flip through, one after the other, have nothing but months that change to years and decades of sorrow. My fingers trail along lines that have been canceled in deep black crosses, or paragraphs that have been blotched by ink, and the jagged edges of pages torn from the book. I realized it was because he could not bring himself to read through his thoughts anymore. That it caused him so much agony and distress he tore pages, as if some thoughts were too personal to even read, even if it was only his eyes that saw them. As pages flipped by and his sorrow grew, I started feel hollow and empty inside, a mirror of he describes himself. My gaze shifts upward at the dates, and

I meant to transfer her to the Michigan branch if she continued to pester me with her loud music. When the driver started the car, I studied the book cover she gave me. Only now did I realize the title of the book, “Where Do Broken Hearts Go?” I suddenly worried about Leigh after realizing that this book is a kind of self-help, an inspiring book providing insights about loss and grief. I close my eyes, wondering how Leigh is now.