Sonnets 129 Novels & Stories

It was a photo of him in his hospital bed, holding the tiramisu. The caption read: “Thanks, Annie. This is the best comfort dessert ever.” Underneath it, Annie had left a smiley face. I shoved my phone into my pocket, heart hollow. It had been ninety-nine times or maybe more than that. However, whatever the number was, it was time to let go.

"Sonnet, I know you feel uncomfortable, and your brother shouldn't hit you, but you also know that his career is not going well recently, so he is inevitably depressed and did something radical, I hope you would be more considerate!" Sonnet sneered. "Be more considerate? So, if he strangled me to death, I can't even resist? Once I resist, I’m not considerate towards him? Who is he? The golden and precious prince, everyone must give way to him?" "Isn't he losing a lot of money—" "I also lost a lot of money, because of him, I lost ten million!" Sonnet interrupted her, "It stands to reason that I should be the one who wants to strangle him to death!"

Alina shifted in her chair, and his gaze was immediately glued to the movement, watching as Alina brushed her fingers over her jean pocket, where the rose resided underneath. The man in shadows smiled, "Looking at this rose, isn't it like looking into the heart of someone who has lost their purpose; a broken and desolate being?" He recited and watched as Alina subconsciously gripped the area over her pocket. Her long and delicate fingers, so much larger than he recalled, hovering protectively. She would start remembering, soon enough.

It was quiet for a moment. Then, the man burst into shrill, deranged laughter. “What a joke! You’re the son of the owners of this place? If you are, then I’m the king of the world!” The man laughed so hard that he was shaking all over. He pointed a finger at me and said, “Listen, punk, you shouldn’t mess around so much. Although I’ve never met the guy, Professor Corleone told me her son is a king among men. He’s studying abroad! He doesn’t wear no-name trash like you! I’ve met a lot of your kind. You think you can pretend to be rich and powerful just because you’re not as good as others. Do you really think that will get you anywhere?”

Vivian sat alone in the shadowed corner of the bar, watching strangers drift beneath the amber glow of the lights. She could not believe she had actually fallen for a rumor. “The real reason the Hayes and Carter families postponed the wedding? Sebastian’s ex was kidnapped. He’d rather call off the marriage than leave her to die.” One reckless sentence was all it took for her to book the first flight to Harbor City. Sebastian was the untouchable heir everyone admired—a fixture on the covers of financial magazines and the polished businessman delivering keynote speeches at charity galas. What could a man like him possibly be doing in a place like this? Vivian shook her head, set down her g

Her heart broke, as it made her think of all those times Caleb had left her, as she stood there, waiting for him herself. JULIET Come, night; come, Romeo; come, thou day in night; For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night Whiter than new snow on a raven's back. Come, gentle night, come, loving, black-brow'd night, Give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to the garish sun.

"To every lovely lady bright, I wish a gallant faithful knight; To every faithful lover, too, I wish a trusting lady true. A book of verses underneath the bough, A jug of wine, a loaf of bread, and thou. A mighty pain to love it is, And this a pain that pain to miss; But, of all pains, the greatest pain, Is to love, but love in vain. May we have those in our arms, whom we love in our hearts. Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine;

where, alack, Shall time’s best jewel from time’s chest lie hid? Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back? Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid? O, none, unless this miracle have might, That in black ink my love may still shine bright. It was Shakespeare’s Sonnet 65. I smiled, and I could feel my heart warm because of this. Who knew he was so romantic and thoughtful? Without wasting any time, I grabbed my jacket and purse and headed out.

Ben was thrown a distance away, landing not so gracefully on the ground, his back receiving most of the slam. "Ben!" Renard yelled out. Ben struggled to his feet, trying to ignore the pain in his back and maintaining the distance between the two of them. His head bowed low because he dared not to look into the face of his Master. He was loosing control again. This was bad. "Master Renard." He greeted in reply. "Where is it?!" Renard was impatient. He needed the potion desperately, his wings had now sprouted sharp claws at the joint and he was beginning to loose his feathers too.

Great ending, Awww thanks for the love, yeah sure do love this time of year, lotsa fun, this one, Enjoy a candy, & thanks for coming! Cherie Nolan © 2016 Continue reading... Brass Knuckles Mike May 2013 A Werewolf in London, 1599 What dew so sweet On the morning willow grows And the blood runs true deep Alas the body overthrows Pray thee to gaze Lay waste to the east Upon western glades Resounds, the bay of the beast In mortal coil On cracked earth resign The body transform Lay return to the mind And in provincial mist