Self Written Novels & Stories

My mouth was wide open as incoherent words seemed to come out. "Ah,.. oh, uhm.. yeah I am talking to you" Finally I said, trying to get my composure. My legs are so weak, I'm happy I'm still sitting because I can't feel my legs anymore. My heart is beating so fast I can hear it clearly. What is happening to me? How can this intruder affect me so much, this is not possible.Disappointed I said silently to myself Cathy, pull yourself together. He is just one of those useless men who thinks he can get into my pants because of his sinfully good looks. What a Cheap tactic. Shaking my head disappointedly I stepped out and stood facing him as I strain my neck looking into his eyes.

" I said then got up to serve a customer who just arrived. Peter left the bar to go watch a football match at the London cinema. There were few customers in the bar and I was tired of studying. Registration for the Senior Secondary School Examination I missed will commence in a month. From the cookies I have been selling at the bar, I was able to raise a quarter of the money. My mother would complete the rest and God knows I have been praying we have enough. I took out a pen from my notebook and resolved to writing. The parcel Dr. Amrah gave me as a birthday gift was a large Diary of almost a thousand pages and a dozen pen. I knew what it meant. She wanted me to keep writing. I brought the d

" I felt nothing. Just dropped to my knees, scooped up the ashes, and tucked them gently back into the broken urn. Then I picked it up, held it tight, and walked out. Silent.

Ten long years I repressed my desires, telling myself they didn’t matter, or even that they didn’t exist, as though I were trying to placate my mother. Full of these thoughts, I sat at my computer. I had no idea how I should start. My rule is, when out of one’s depth, say as little as possible. I created a new personal email address, to which only he would have access. inanna@xmail.com didn’t find much competition. Hallo Goliath, What is it you want to know? Before you answer, remember, Inanna is my mentor. Bluestocking was all I wrote.

Beckett: Want help? I smile. Me: No. Three dots appear. Beckett: Rude. Me: I want it to sound like me. His reply takes longer. Beckett: Good. I look back at the essay. Maybe that’s the whole point. Not sounding impressive. Not sounding inspirational. Just sounding like me. I attach the file. My finger hovers over submit. Then I click. No countdown. No panic. No asking anybody if they think it’s good enough. Just me. And for the first time in a long time, that feels like enough.

She deleted it and started again. The fourth version was harder to write because it required admitting things she did not usually admit, even to herself, things about why she wanted this so badly and what she was actually afraid of losing if she didn't get it. She wrote about the first time she had ever led a squad through a routine, freshman year, twelve years old and terrified and discovering, for the first time, that she was good at something in a way that felt entirely her own. She wrote about Jade, about the practice room and the mirror and the moment a scared first-year had stopped counting and let her body remember what it already knew.

Almost a smile. "Day 89. He talked to me after the game. Just 'good game.' Three words. I've replayed them in my head a hundred times." Sebastian's eyes were wet. He blinked, surprised, like he didn't know why he was crying. "That's… familiar," Sebastian said. His voice was hoarse. "The words. The feelings. I don't remember writing them, but they feel—they feel like mine." Damian's heart soared. "They are yours. You wrote them. You've been in love with me since you were seventeen years old."

"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.

Ryan was gone. I looked at my side table, to get a glass of water and there was a paper with something written on it. I took it and started to read. It was Ryan's message for me. It said, "I am going to my house. There are pills for headache in the drawer. I didn't mean to harm you in any way from the beginning. I just liked you the moment I met you. But now I saw how scared you were. So, I think we aren't meant for eachother. I will not come for you anymore. And I am sure you also want to stay away from me. You deserve a loving human. And I can't be one even if I pretend to be one. I hope you liked the moments we spent together but If you don't want my memories with you. You can call me any

She pulls me in for a hug and says, “You’re welcome. Now leave; dad’s waiting to take you to Liam’s house.” I kiss her cheek and wave at her. “See you later!” I made sure to grab the birthday card I personally made for Liam and left the room. I had written the card yesterday, wanting to confess my feelings for him by writing it in the card. The letter said: Dear Liam,