Semblance Of Normalcy Novels & Stories

"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."

BRANDON’S POV Normal came back slowly. Not like a switch flipping on, but like a bruise fading—still tender if you touched it too hard, still visible if you looked closely, but not screaming anymore. Campus started acting like campus again. People rushed to class. Complained about deadlines. Argued over coffee orders. Cameron and I walked hand in hand without whispers following us like ghosts. Some people still stared, sure—but most had moved on to the next drama.

I already lost one of the brothers, another won’t be lost because of my problems and hidden enemies. I have to get out of here. I rush to the closet and start pulling out random clothes. I stuff it into an overnight that is lying on the floor. My next destination is the bathroom. I open the cabinet and take out the balm Drew always applied to my injury. When I see my reflection in the small mirror a gasp leaves my lips. My hair is disheveled, spring up at different angles. My eyes are bloodshot and the corners are a dark red. I’m the exact replica of a zombie at this point. With a shaky breath I splash water on my face a couple times, the cold water bringing a little color to my cheeks.

The Interferer followed. “Recognition-normalization mechanism identified.” Ethan’s eyes widened slightly. “…You didn't disappear.” The forgotten presence responded softly. “No.” Silence. The answer carried extraordinary weight. The forgotten presence continued. “My contribution became integrated.” A pause. “Then familiar.” Another pause. “Then invisible.” Silence. Emma felt the tragedy immediately. Not destruction. Normalization. The architecture trembled. Not from instability. From realization. The forgotten presence had not been removed. Its uniqueness had become so thoroughly incorporated that everyone stopped noticing it.

or, well, the Rosewood version of normal, which was its own species entirely. Normal for them meant a very specific blend of chaos wrapped in designer labels, emotional instability camouflaged with luxury vacations, outrageously expensive coping mechanisms, and a household that operated with the same energy as a royal palace, a frat house, a therapy group, and a mafia family all mashed together into one. It was almost impressive how quickly they bounced back, as though none of them had watched Camilla stab a grown man through the hand like she was buttering toast. "LIVING THEIR BEST, MOST DELUSIONAL LIFE."

“It's been a while since I heard the word normal, nothing is normal.” I turn to look at her, “If the apocalypse ends today, do you think the world will be back to normal?” I ask. Mel shook her head doubtfully. “I don't think so, important lives have been lost and there's no way people will cope with the new world without looking above their shoulders. Life used to be normal, a cure can't bring normality back”. I sigh and cut the thread. “Aright then, let's get you stitch”. *********************

I still have oxygen to help me breathe easily and still more health monitoring devices on my body to check my conditions. Shane visited me in the afternoon after her working hours. She makes sure that I’m okay. She feeds me some soft food that is only allowed by my Doctors. She always held my hand and talked to me happily. She tells me what she does all day. The night before I fell asleep she read me a romance novel and kissed my forehead and kept on apologizing for what happened between us. “Love, please stop apologizing. Let’s forget what happened and start over again,” I said in a soft voice.

Cameras flashed nonstop, and reporters buzzed around like overexcited bees, desperate to capture the perfect moment. It still amazed me, honestly. How could this be the same Anita I once knew? The same Anita who used to spill blood without so much as blinking was now standing there, soft-hearted, glowing like some saint. I envied her. At least she got the chance to live a normal life, something I could never even dream of. Normal? That word had never belonged to me. I was born broken, and I made my peace with it long ago. Best to stay abnormal. Safer that way.

"Today it is more settled." "The convergent translation settling into its natural operating depth," I said. "The harmony line becoming the ordinary background of the function rather than the new thing it was the first days." "Yes," she said. "It is becoming ordinary." She paused. "That is good." She paused. "I like when important things become ordinary." "Yes," I said. "So do I." She went to find Pria. I sat in the sitting room with the function's translation running. The ordinary days. The extraordinary days. Both at once.

"The hardest decision of her life. Not which ancient being to fight. Not which reality to impose. Not which impossible mission to survive. Just dress color." "Must be nice. Having that be your hardest decision. Having normal problems. Normal life." Aria set down the book. "Do you think we'll ever get there? To normal? Really normal?" "I don't know. We're pretty far from normal. Pretty extraordinary. Both of us. Together. What we've done. What we've survived. What we are. That's not normal. Can't ever be normal. But maybe we can fake it. Pretend. Have moments of normal. Like now. Like this week. Stolen moments. Borrowed normalcy. Better than nothing."