Novel & Cerita The Grieving Gumball

I heard the clicking of camera shutters, but no one called the ambulance. My blood drained dry. My body became cold. Finally, Yvette Skye was no more. I died all alone at the corner of the street. No one cared. My corpse was not a pretty sight. My eyes were wide, unseeing, and there was a large hole in my stomach. My legs were twisted together. One of my arms was flung by the side of the road. My legs were useless now. I was ugly. No wonder the little girl cried. Floating in the air, I stared at my mutilated corpse.

The air grew colder as we went deeper, and I felt the pressure change in my ears. The Grief Weaver was in the back storage room. I saw the threads first—thin, gossamer strands that stretched from floor to ceiling like a spider’s web, glowing faintly in the dim light. They pulsed with a slow, rhythmic movement, expanding and contracting like lungs. The host was in the center, suspended three feet off the ground, wrapped so tightly in the threads that I couldn’t see their face. But I could hear them breathing. “Male, mid-forties,” Whitney whispered. “The anomaly’s been feeding on his grief for months. He lost his daughter in the Hollow District collapse last year.”

her voice breaking, she was crying. "I'm sorry, Hannah's loss is just a big cloak of darkness in our family since all of you know we have also already lost my husband Brandon. Our lives will never be the same without Hannah. We are extremely thankful for the friends she has gained along the way, her eyes darted at me and I tightened my fists, piercing her with my look "Bitch" I muttered.

And all you can do is pout, sulk, crib, and cry as if you’ve been deprived of good candies. "RIP brother clans. May you never get elder sisters, because they are a pain in the ass as much as a turkey might cause a pain in the stomach". But if sisters didn’t exist then where’s the fun of a brother. He chuckled at his own humour and as he looked at the wall clock, he harboured a horrified look instantly and dashed out of the room like a tsunami to the boardroom. His death was written for today but not from his father, Christian Walker's hands but from Simone Thompson’s hand as the D-day was here.

They couldn't be that different now. This would be easy. He'd find the goblin. They'd defeat him and then he'd get the girl. For however long he wanted. Which if history repeated itself, was not long. Every female gargoyle and fairy he'd come in contact with knew this wasn't for forever. "Still, you need to find out who the goblin is." Declan looked around the yard, feeling a little lost. Being reanimated was not as fun as he'd expected it to be. "He wasn't in the place she was painting."

Their laughter faded as they walked away, ending with a door slam. The stairwell fell back into dead silence. I crouched in the dark corner, grinding my teeth so hard they hurt. I thought of how I had toasted clients across all those nights just to secure that 10,000 dollars, only to end up in an ambulance with a bleeding stomach. I thought of my parents’ guilty, humble expressions in front of those fake bottles of liquor. A wave of even more violent hatred surged through me.

Placing my phone on the marble countertop, I move to the fridge and the minute I open it and see Sax’s marmalade jam next to my strawberry jam, the bitterness and the grief are back and they wrap around my heart like a damn noose. “I’m…I-I’m sorry”, I whisper to no one, closing the fridge fast and leaning my back against it. My boyfriend, Ford says the only way to let the grief go is to just not think about it. I’d listen to him if it weren’t for the fact that he was high on weed when he was telling me that. Oh and he couldn’t give a shit about my grief, there’s that. So I choose to listen to the one person who knew me from the inside out.

39 - Payback Caleb Pretending to be dead and trying not to breathe was a difficult task. Especially having your dad, your dad’s wife who’s your ex, your hot older girlfriend and boyfriend crying and sobbing over you as the nurse (dad’s colleague) drags your body to the mortuary for the fake autopsy.

His cloudy eyes looked at me, filled with something that felt like regret… or maybe longing. In the end, he did not come over. He only asked a little girl nearby to bring each of us a rose. They were wilted, probably picked out of a trash bin. The girl passed them to us and said, "That man over there asked me to tell you… he's sorry. He's going to die." Thora looked at the rose in her hand and asked me, "Mom… is that Dad? Is he going to die?" The little girl who delivered the message looked confused. "What does 'die' mean?"

Yet, Ethan was unwilling to give up. He came to my flower shop several more times, trying to persuade me. But when he saw how unyielding I was, he could only leave in frustration. A week later, he brought Katrina and James with him. The moment the pups saw me, they ran into my arms crying. "Mommy, we missed you so much!" Both of them had lost so much weight. All the healthy weight I'd worked so hard to help them gain was gone… and there were still traces of rashes on Katrina's skin from her allergic reactions.