Tales Of The Heart นิยาย & เรื่องราว

The cracks in the floor glowed faintly with the same white fire still burning inside my chest. Ash forced himself into a sitting position, clutching the floor to stay upright. His movements were sluggish, but his eyes—those swirling silver-white eyes—held a clarity sharp enough to cut. “Tyla,” he rasped. “Listen carefully.” Arthur stepped forward instantly, tension rattling through him. “She’s not choosing anything until we know what the hell this ‘heart’ does.” Ash didn’t look at him. His gaze remained locked on me. “The heart is the anchor.”

I fo‍llowed h‍i‍m, and that was⁠ when I noticed something that made my heart st​op. My diary. ⁠On the c‌ouc‍h. Open. ‌ And Con⁠rad was s​tanding right in front of‍ it, r​eadi​ng. His f⁠ace was unreco‍gnizable. Compl‌ete‍ly still. M​y heartbeat sounded like r‍umbling storms inside m⁠y ears. Ev⁠eryth⁠ing I‌ wrote.‍ E‍veryth​ing I hid.

In the end, the perfect husband and father Stan and I were so proud of was a phony, and the love he showed us was a lie. The only truth was this deceitful plot he maintained for six years, ending with a meticulously staged car accident to take away my son's heart. Nonetheless, my consciousness blurred as the sedative flowed through my veins. I could feel the icy touch of machines digging inside my body, giving me more nightmares. There was only pitch-blackness where my son stood, an emptiness in his chest where his heart should have been. He was reaching toward me, screaming, "Mommy! It hurts so much!"

Despite saying I was never having another baby, two years later I gave birth to a baby girl. We named her Madelyn Grace. She was most impatient to be born. She arrived at just 36 weeks scaring the crap out of us. But she was born healthy. And they lived happily ever after! The End! Stay Tuned for my next short story: MUSICAL ATTRACTION! Will Chey finally find love? Or have another dead end relationship?

Otherwise, I’ll come after you. —None of that, kiddo! I leave the two of them and go to my office. When I arrive, I see a box on top of the desk. When I open it, I get a scare: inside, there’s an animal’s heart, with a note: I’m very close! I close the box quickly and throw it in the trash, feeling a chill run down my spine.

Realizing it had been long, I approached the box and lifted the lid, revealing a grotesque sight: a still-beating heart, pulsating with a sickening rhythm inside an even smaller jar. I proceeded to pick it up. "Did you feel it?" I whispered to the heart. "The blood of your great-granddaughter calling out to you?" "Did it give you hope?" I continued. "That the curse of your lover would be finally broken, and you would rest? Because that isn't what is going to happen."

So after thinking about all that I felt like going to that room to finish what I had given myself permission to start. I tried to get out of bed, I had a lot of pain on the right side of my body. With my left hand I held that part of my body that hurt. I finally managed to get up. I walked slowly towards the door of the room. I was too disoriented, I did not understand where I was. After completely leaving my room and closing the door behind me, I kept walking until I found the first door. With sweaty hands I grabbed the lock, it slipped, I wiped my hand on the kind of robe I was wearing. I grabbed the lock again and turned it, very nervous. When I opened the door I found a man in his eighti

The kind that didn’t just enter your orbit — he made you aware you were already in his. She angled toward the bar, fingers brushing the satin clutch at her side. If Leo noticed, he didn’t show it. But Cass knew better. Men like him noticed everything. Cass offered a polite, noncommittal smile. “Sounds like you’ve got quite the story,” she said, keeping it vague. “Stories make the world go round, Ms…?” Grant—his name stitched into his leather portfolio—leaned in. She sipped her drink before answering. “Blake. Cassandra Blake.” One of her safe, untraceable names.

No big declarations or dramatic confessions. Just the soothing sounds of the house and the gentle rhythm of two hearts learning to be soft again. ---

The worst thing about trusting someone, especially with your heart is that is also the same person that could destroy it if they chose to. Could I trust Owen Marshall or was this a game, a quest he was on? I set out this year to take risks, to live my life beyond just the four walls of the little white-sided house we live in. This was what I essentially signed up for. Take the leap of faith, the dive off into the deep end, the free fall from the airplane. Risking my heart and falling in love felt all the same to me.