The Last Lecture Kindle Novels & Stories

"And the last time I made you frame that witch, I clearly told you to fall harder! But in the end, all you had was a minor fracture! "If I hadn't been clever and paid off the doctor to lie about how hurt you were so that he could draw 2000cc worth of blood from that witch, you wouldn't even exist in Casper's eyes now! I'm warning you, if you don't listen to me this time, I won't show any mercy next time!" After saying that, Sydney kicked Lily hard.

"What does that mean? Why won't I see him anymore?" I pointed at the large screen behind her and said, "One of the documents you just signed is an agreement to cremate Timmy's body. Look, the screen is showing his name." She stared at the screen, which read, "Timmy Moore, five years old. Deluxe cremation furnace." Her eyes widened in shock before she turned back to me and grabbed the stack of documents I held. She flipped through them for a long time before finding the cremation agreement. Then, she screamed hysterically, "How can this be? It's impossible! It was just an allergic reaction! I don't believe this! I want to see him!"

I promise, offering her another thankful smile before turning and heading towards the door. As I step out into the hallway, the air feels a little lighter, the weight of that looming conversation finally behind me. Still, I can’t help the dry laugh that escapes me as I walk back towards the lecture hall. Alpha Drake Marshall gets what Alpha Drake Marshall wants. I push open the door to my lecture hall, the scent of chalk and old paper meeting me like an old friend. The lights flicker on above as I make my way to the front, dropping my bag beside the podium and flipping open my laptop. The projector hums to life, casting the first slide onto the screen behind me, an intricate illustration of

Chloe didn't look nearly as freaked out as I was. In fact, there was a look of realization on her face. She pulled out her own phone, her fingers flying across the screen for a second before she turned the display toward me. "Izy, look. Professor Alister’s lecture was live-streamed." I blinked at the screen. There, on social media was a high-quality video feed. The caption read: The King of Law: Professor Thorne’s First Lecture of the Semester. "He’s a celebrity lecturer, Izy," Chloe explained, her voice regained its usual upbeat tone.

It’s a Friday afternoon, and everyone else is so eager to get out for the weekend, so I quickly find myself to be the last person left in the lecture hall – me and Professor Harlan. I steal a quick glance as I collect the last of my papers: syllabi, attendance sheets, daily to-do lists, and the works, but avert my eyes as I stand up to collect my bag. It is so painfully, deadly silent, that I expect it to remain so until one of us leaves. But it doesn't. "So, how long should I expect this nonsense to continue?" Harlan's voice smacks me on the back of the head, nearly causing me to drop my bag as I shove in the last of my folders.

The afternoon sun was soft and golden when the lecture ended. Students spilled from the hall in small clusters, talking, laughing, replaying the professor’s jokes as they scattered toward the courtyard. I took my time gathering my notes, letting the others drift ahead. The silence that followed felt almost like a luxury. Jillian sneaked out from the back door in the middle of the third lecture.. According to her, sitting for too long burned out her soul.. She would be waiting in library like we planned.. Well she has to if she wants to pass as I help her with studies. .

Ayla By the end of the lecture, the room had acquired that stale, airless quality lecture theatres always seemed to gather when too many people had sat too long beneath artificial light. It smelled faintly of damp coats, burnt coffee and the tired plasticky heat of old seats. Around me, attention had thinned almost to nothing. A laptop snapped shut somewhere to my left. Someone behind me stifled a yawn with all the subtlety of an animal in pain. A few seats down, a boy had his phone half-hidden in his lap and was smiling at it in a way that suggested whatever was on the screen was far more nourishing than journalistic ethics could ever hope to be.

You made sure I came out triumphant in this exchange. During a signing event, a young reader asked me, "Did the guy really vanish in the end, Ms. Gray? Was the system real?" My hand touched the deformed brooch on my chest, and I smiled. "Perhaps not, but their love was true." I had a dream that night, a dream where I was in my college's library. The sun was shining golden, its warmth just right. A young man in a white shirt was holding a finance book in his hand as he frowned at a candlestick chart. When he noticed me approaching, he raised his head. Soon, a familiar, silly grin bloomed on his lips.

Vienna's hearing aid. Mom went ghost-white. "Sadie Dudley!" Sadie jolted awake. Still half-asleep, she blinked at Mom standing by the desk, clutching something in her hand. "What is this?" Mom's voice turned sharp, every word cutting. Sadie saw the hearing aid. All the color drained from her face. "Aunt Florence, I—" "I asked you, what is this?" Mom shouted. Sadie sat up and backed into the headboard.

The struggles and sorrows of that other life were finally sealed away—gently, tenderly, by the hands of time. -THE END-