روايات وقصص ضمن Story Of Your Life

*FROM HERE ON THERE WILL BE NO CHAPTERS NAME (𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞) 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮,

I smile "Yeah, so to while away time. I have a story to tell you. A real life story." "Sweet..." I laugh, eager to hear the story she wants to tell. "Whose story is it? Yours?" I jokingly ask "Yes. It's my story." My eyebrows arch with surprise. I wasn't expecting her to share her life story with me. I thought it would be about someone she knew. "Really?" "Yes, really. Didn't I tell you I'm quite an interesting person to get to know?... The story is about myself and the only man that I've ever loved in all the years that I've spent on earth."

"If you're not doing anything, don't waste time here. There are plenty of people in the world you can help. Don't waste it on me." I placed my hand over the lens. The screen went black. … [In the Next Life — Oct. 11, 2023, 9:32 AM — I Don't Need Anyone's Pity] "You're Hailey Cooper, Ben Cooper's sister, right?" I was sweeping the back kitchen of a café. I frowned when I heard the voice. "You again?" His voice came from behind the camera. "People online are saying you betrayed your family, but they don't know you have cancer. I want to film a documentary series about you. Is that okay?"

It was as if I was showing the living that death was not the end of life, but rather, the beginning of a new journey. My thoughts returned to the day of the accident. The surgery was successful, bringing an end to my tragic life.

“What do you want?!” “No!” Larissa screamed, then jerked back in pain as a witch slapped her hard on the cheek. But she didn't stop, “Aleric, don't! You can't go back! You promised me!” Before he met Larissa, he had been a highly ranked member of the Order - an organisation that specialised in hunting and killing all sorts of creatures for fun but when he met Larissa, he knew he had to stop in order to begin a new life with her.

My parents used lottery tickets to decide our allowances because they wanted to train and educate my younger sister, Elena Carter, and me. Every week before we returned to school, we would be given five lottery tickets. Whatever amount we scratched would be our weekly allowance. Elena was always lucky. She would always win at least a hundred dollars, and she would spend the money on good meals, dresses, and even buying her roommates coffee. The most I had won was 15 dollars, and most of the day, all I got was a few dollars. At the height of my bad luck, all five lottery tickets would end up being losing tickets. I had to rely on the two dollars I managed to save last week. When I asked

Everyone envied me. They said my mom was like a wish-granting fairy on the other side of the world. An electronic reading pen. A pretty little dress. A new backpack. Whenever I made a wish to my mom, whatever I wanted would arrive from abroad within three days. Grandma told me my mom washed dishes in foreign restaurants and worked illegally, risking everything just to keep that little hope alive for me. "Your mom's only wish is for you to study hard and do well." The year I got into college, I saved every scholarship dollar I'd earned and bought a plane ticket across the ocean. During the eight-hour flight, I imagined reuniting with my mom countless times. I'd throw my arms around her

On purpose. I had grown up with a story. A simple ugly story about a fire and bad wiring and a building that was too old and too cheap to survive it. I had grieved that story. I had carried it for ten years and built a whole life on top of it the way you built on top of rubble when there was nothing else to build on. And now someone had just walked up and told me the rubble wasn't rubble. That it had been placed there deliberately. By someone who was Still Alive. Still reachable. Still somewhere in the same world I was standing in. I pressed my fingers flat against my knee and breathed.

"I don't think so. I just need you both to actually listen, all the way through, before either of you says anything." They exchanged a glance, that old twin language I'd grown so used to reading, and nodded in unison. "I spent five years," I began slowly, "building an entire identity around a single story. The girl who survived. The girl whose savior would someday come find her and make all of it make sense. I didn't realize how small that story actually was until I met both of you and watched it explode into something far bigger, far messier, and considerably more honest than anything I'd ever let myself imagine."

“I’m Caleb.” “Ava. Austin.” We started talking to kill time. He was a consultant, flew three or four times a month for work. I told him I was a graphic designer coming back from a client pitch. The conversation was easy. We bitched about the airline, the shitty food, how nobody ever sleeps on red-eye flights. Two more drinks later and we were laughing about our worst travel disasters—his lost luggage in Vegas, my twelve-hour layover in Atlanta with a screaming baby next to me the whole time.