Semblance Of Normalcy Novels & Stories

After all, what fun is there in being normal or perfect? My whole life I wanted to be normal. Everybody knows there's no such thing as normal. There is no black-and-white definition of normal. Normal is subjective. There's only messy, inconsistant, silly, hopeful version of how we feel most at home in our own lives. But when I think about what I have, what I strived to reach my whole life, it's not the biggest or best or easiest or prettiest or most anything. It's not the Manor or the laundry closet. Not the multi-million dollar inheritance or the poorhouse. It's not superstardom or unemployment. It's family and love and safety. It's bravery and hope. It's work and laughter and imperfection.

It's just that, the problem is…supernatural. Instead of attending to the customers in line, I walked straight to the comfort room and locked the door. Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I removed my contact lenses and untied my hair. My skin became fairer compared to last month, and as I shifted my eyes at the mirror again, the golden orbs of mine ignited as if it's telling me to accept the unrealistic future that I would be having for the rest of my life. I only hope to live well…with a normal life…as a normal person.

Then she sipped her spoonful like a lady. Blood growing cold, I managed to say, “Lovely.” She shrugged. “It is job.” I rubbed my arm to quell the goose bumps that rose, as well as another disturbing sensation: a lightness, a deranged contentment Ronan had killed those men. Like everything else, feelings were backward in this place. It would be my normal to fight them, to force them to be something they weren’t, but a part of me didn’t have the energy. Another part of me, the one I forced into tight clothes and the desire for acceptance, didn’t want to be normal anymore.

“That was Rain feeding them an entire family-sized bag and claiming it was ‘an educational experiment.’” Colby chuckled. “They did learn something—centrifugal force. Right before they vomited in stereo.” I smiled despite myself. “I just want them to feel safe. Normal. Whatever that even means for them.” “They will,” he said softly. “Because normal is what we make it. If our version includes a part-wolf, part-vampire toddler with a taste for strawberry jam and chaos? That’s our normal.” “Strawberry jam,” I repeated. “You think that’s all it is?”

That must be it. Sidney: I just want to feel normal again. Allison: It’s not like anyone has been in your house. Don’t worry. Sidney wanted to believe Allison. She wanted to think she would get back to normal again. If she reflected objectively, she could tell herself nothing had really happened in Telluride. She had gotten tackled by some crazed shadow in the dark and had escaped. She was fine and far away now. Things were fine, normal. Sidney: Tonight will be a good test.

All I can do is to assure them that after I’m gone I will always watch them from heaven And I'll always be there for them in the afterlife. I woke up in the morning and everything is white. I walked around until I saw a way ahead of me. I ran that way and finally I stepped foot in a beautiful garden. The place is full of flowers and small trees. So many birds and butterflies are flying around the area. I saw a fountain and I walked until I reached it. The water was so clear suddenly an image appeared on it. I saw my family and my beloved woman crying in front of a grave.

They sat in the study in the morning light with the reports between them and the estate moving around them and the pack territory outside the window going about its day in the particular ordinary way it always did regardless of what had happened the night before. The ordinary was reasserting itself. That was what the ordinary did. It came back. It always came back. And today it felt like exactly the right thing.

At Lily, who had given up on sitting upright and was now horizontal with her head in Emma's lap. This was what normal looked like. Not the normal of before. That normal was gone and she did not miss it. This normal. The one built from the people who had stayed and the things that had survived and the life that was hers now, actually hers, without the architecture of someone else's design around it. She looked at Aiden. He was looking at her. "All right?" he said. "Yes," she said. And meant it more completely than she had meant it in a very long time.

Normalcy. That was the word that popped up most often in his head …not relief, not triumph. Normalcy. The idea that life had or would not be upended or sent whirling wildly off course because he’d chosen joy. The building still stood. The law still worked. The world had not asked for an explanation. He boiled down case points, gently but firmly corrected an associate, approved an amended brief with a nod. His pen flowed decisively across the paper. His schedule was growing and shrinking like a seasoned anxious guy. His name still had clout.

"It tastes like… normal." "Normal is what we’re aiming for," I replied; I took a bite of my own, the texture familiar and comforting. "But I think we have to accept that our 'normal' is going to look different from Clara’s. We don't have to be like them to belong here; we have to be here."