Sylvia Plath Novels & Stories

Lucas groaned beneath me, “and fuck her properly.” And that’s what they did. They took turns fucking every hole in my body until I was begging for mercy.... My name is Sylvia. I’m a widow in my forties, and these was my cum-stained confessions. Now tell me… did my words make you cum? Did you touch yourself while reading every filthy line I whispered. Did you spread your legs wide and imagine every one of those men using you the way they used me? Or was it the other way around?

Sylvia never left the kitchen while she was making the delicacy and did not have any sleeping pills that must have gotten into the food by accident. The whole analysis fluttering in her mind was driving her insane. She stretched her hand to the table and turned on the plastic lamp. She decided to take a walk. It was her favorite thing. She always took walks whenever she couldn’t fall asleep no matter what time of the night it was.

She went to a corner in the basement and brought out a syringe, which was already filled up with liquid. “And what do you want to do with that?” Orphilia asked, wondering what Sylvia was up to. “I think you really deserve to die. And I won’t feel remorse even in years to come.” Sylvia said as she came closer to Orphilia. “No, no… Don’t do this.” Orphilia cried out. “Too late.” ~

Sylvia's face stiffened at that, but she didn't say anything more. A month after Owen's divorce from his first wife, he and Sylvia tied the knot. Sylvia, a girl from a small town, was a leading actress in local plays. At 16, she met Owen, a young man from the bustling city of Ventropolis, who was teaching in her town. Despite their seven-year age difference, they immediately felt a connection. However, two years into their relationship, Owen returned to Ventropolis. Sylvia patiently waited for him for three years. During that time, he visited her and promised to return in three months to marry her. But heartbreak awaited Sylvia; she discovered that Owen had wed another woman named Frida Youn

Syliva was determined to get them to the farm as well. Syliva went to the kitchen first. She dropped her plate there and washed it. She took a few minutes to explore the vast kitchen. It had an empty pantry, dusty shelves, and very very old utensils. The space looked unused. Syliva thought of Lily, her eldest sister and her dreams of having such a kitchen. She thought of Dorian as she looked at the vast garden. The sun was already setting and disappearing in the horizon. She thought of Olivia as she walked by the living room. A grand piano dominated the room. She could almost see the silhouette of her friend sitting there and playing soft tunes. Olivia learned from the countless jobs they ha

"Everything I never had… The happiness I could never reach! How does trash like you, meant to rot in the dirt, get to have it? You don't deserve it!" Without warning, she let out a suppressed wail and lunged at me, aiming at the fruit knife clutched tightly in my hand. "Calm down!" I shouted in horror, my hands gripping the knife handle with all my strength. However, in this life, Sylvia had built up shocking strength from years of hauling water and chopping firewood at the Williams family.

“I see. And you aren’t a student?” “Definitely not. You are, aren’t you?” “What makes it so obvious?” “Nothing, just your vibe. “ he says, casually, “What’s your name?” I don’t know if it’s because I am drunk but he looks genuinely interested. “Sylvia Plath,” I say and he snorts. “I meant your real name.” “Ohh, “ I throw my head, laughing. “It doesn't matter, it’s just a formality.” He shakes his head.

I smile at her parents, seeing the life they've created, how far they've come makes my heart ache, it makes me long for something like that, something as beautiful, with no darkness ---- What I want is what I was, Slyvia Plath had written, and that's what I need, who I was, who I used to be. Long before life broke me, I used to be happy, I had my brother - Isaac, and bestfriend - Si, they were my center.

Sylvia was already on her way to the woods where she found herself the first time she got here, and the air was still as chilly as it was the other time. “Oh, goodness. I hope tonight won’t be the end of me.” Sylvia muttered under her breath. She looked at the knife in her hand, and wondered how she was going to kill someone. It was going to be hard for her as she had never done anything like this. “Sylvia.” She heard a soft voice call out her name, and the breeze caressed her back.

Opening the door, Christiana stood in front of her. "I forgot my handbag and umbrella at your house." "So sorry for the inconvenience." Her voice was laced with remorse. Staring at her, Daisy Hunter said," What, No, it's really okay…I too forget my stuff in people's homes." Daisy Hunter said, smiling gleefully, exposing her perfect dentition. Stepping into the dimly lit room, Christiana spotted her handbag and umbrella, grabbing it, she thanked Daisy and stepped out immediately.