Novel & Cerita Sunsets Cartoon

"Jump Isabelle" The voice commanded in her head "Jump" Tears trickle down Isabelle cheek as she stood on top of the parapet of the building "Jump" one move, one step and she was flying... falling to her death. Isabelle never took a glance at the sunsets because she always believe there's a storm after twilight,her parents were gone... taken,waiting to catch a glimpse of her parents she'd stayed still listening to everything and everyone. "Go get them,get them" the children danced ,free in their own world. "Go get them,get them" The children all waiting for their loved ones sang joyfully as the airplane descend. "Go get the,get them" They screamed,the airplane blowed up,and her nightmares started then, the hope dashing away without a ray of light to save it. "The death certificate was with you all along,why did you lie?" Isabelle mutter,staring straight into the eyes of the only man she'd ever trusted,the only man she'd ruined with her one single decision "why?" "I'll never let you go" "I'm in love with Ian not you" Isabelle move to the door "not you Xander" She'd dragged everyone into her own web of lies,the sister she'd vowed to died in front of her while the one she was link with By blood is slowly becoming an addict in front of her,a serial killer bent on destroying on her was slowly getting a way into her family,how will she conquer all the tribulations right in front of her?when will she open her curtains to look at the sunset. "Jump" Isabelle head hit the ground and everything vanished underneath her.

Pauline Ashby, my senior homeroom teacher, is extremely childish. She tends to decorate everything she owns in a childish style. Even the exam admission tickets she has prepared for our SATs are printed on pink paper. On top of that, she even pastes many cartoon stickers on them. "Pink is a great color! This color represents cute little girls like me! Just use these admission tickets when you're about to enter the exam venue! I'm very sure you'll definitely score top marks in the exam!" Upon realizing that Pauline is about to screw everyone over, I quickly call the head teacher. He rushes over and gives Pauline a good scolding before giving us the actual tickets, allowing us entry to the exam venue. Everyone in class completes their SATs at their own pace. In fact, my childhood friend, Caelum Thornley, and I even get into prestigious colleges thanks to our scores. But on the day our scores are announced, Pauline ascends to the rooftop while bawling like a baby. "I just wanted everyone to attend the entrance exam with cute pink admission tickets because the color can boost their mood! Why must Sienna tattle on me? "I did so much research just to pick out the prettiest shade of pink for everyone! I gave it my all to help everyone in the SATs!" As Pauline wipes her tears away with her sleeve, she accidentally steps on the hem of her long skirt, causing her to fall down the building. The next day, Caelum leads the entire class in tying me up and kidnapping me to the summit of a mountain, where they push me off the cliff. As such, all of my bones are shattered, and I die a painful death. "This is your fault for targeting Ms. Ashby! So what if we love using the pink admission tickets?" When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the moment Pauline digs out the pink admission tickets. This time, I choose to keep my mouth shut.

Brandon Smith has flown for eight years. I've been with him since the time he was an assistant pilot, all the way until he successfully rose to the ranks as the head pilot. In the year Brandon's busiest with his career, I resign from my job and begin cooking according to his aviation schedule. Just once, I bring up the question, "Can you please show me the sight of being thousands of feet in the air in the near future? Just once, please!" Brandon continues eating from his plate. "The plane is a workplace, not an amusement park for you." I reply, "Okay." Since then, I never bring up that matter in front of him. That is, until I find myself suffering from insomnia one night. That's when I accidentally come across an encrypted photo album tucked away in Brandon's phone. There are over 40 photos in the album, all from his perspective as a pilot. There are seas of clouds, sunsets, double rainbows after a downpour, as well as the Milky Way in the night sky when the plane is over thousands of feet in the sky. Every photo has been sent to the same person with a bear's emoji as their name. The latest photo is a photo of the beautiful evening colors from three days ago. Half of the sun can be seen in the clouds. The caption that comes with the photo says, "Today's sky is still beautiful as ever. When you come over next time, you can take the observation seat on the right. It gives you the best angle of the sky." The bear emoji person responds with a hugging emoji and a short sentence. "Wait for me to go on my break." I put Brandon's phone back where it belongs without changing the password and deleting the album. Once the morning sun is up, I brew myself some coffee as usual before finishing it quietly. Then, I turn on my computer and book myself a flight ticket to Dalco. It's been eight years. Finally, I don't have to chase after Brandon's flight routes and wait for his mealtimes. I no longer have to stay in an empty house while guessing which flight destination he's headed to right now. Since Brandon's sky refuses to tolerate my presence, I shall move my roots elsewhere and watch the sunset on my own.

Julian Hayes spent eight years climbing from first officer to captain of the most coveted international routes. I stood beside him for every mile of that climb. For him, I walked away from the Valenti family, the most feared Mafia name on the East Coast. I buried Elena Valenti, and became Lina Vale, the girl who smiled in the cabin while he ruled the cockpit. The day I left, my father stood on the marble steps of our estate and said, "Elena, if you walk out that gate for him, don’t come crawling back." Julian never knew. To him, I was a woman with no real family, no real power, and no life worth asking about. I was the one who memorized his flight schedule, packed his stomach pills, and kept dinner warm until midnight. Once, I asked him, "Can you take me into the sky the way you see it? Just once." He didn’t even put down his fork. "The cockpit is a workplace, Lina. Not a theme park." I said okay and never asked again. Then one sleepless dawn, I found the encrypted album on his phone. More than forty cockpit photos: cloud seas, blood-red sunsets, double rainbows after storms, the Milky Way over the Atlantic. Every one had been sent to the same contact. A teddy bear emoji. The newest photo showed half a sun hanging off the wingtip. His caption read, [Next time you’re off, I’ll put you in the observer seat. Sit on the right. That’s where the whole sky opens up.] She replied, [I’ll hold you to that.] I put the phone back. I didn’t change the password, didn’t delete the album, didn’t wake him up to beg for an explanation. At dawn, I brewed his coffee like always, sat alone at the kitchen island, and drank mine in silence. Then I sent my resignation letter and called a number I hadn’t touched in eight years. I watched the first flight of the morning rise beyond the Manhattan skyline and said, "Papa, I’m coming home." When the line connected, my father’s voice was colder than a gun barrel. "Have you thought it through?"