The Next 365 Days Novels & Stories

I’m consumed by guilt for all the things I’d thought and said to him. “Room service,” the voice calls again. Zayn moves first. He goes to answer the door. I let out a heavy breath. My hand brushes my wrist instinctively. I look down at the inconspicuous number etched on my left wrist: 364. A day is gone. Three hundred and sixty-four days left to destroy the people who destroyed me. My throat tightens. What if I fail? What if nothing changes? What if fate still drags me to the same grave waiting at the end of the road?

"Ouch again. Well, it is thirteen days from today." "On a fucking Saturday?" "Yes. And it also appears that my rut cycle shall me very, very close to that date."

May 9 of 2030 came in and Andrew, as he had always been for the last five years, woke up with a hangover. But that day, he woke up with the ID card in his hands kept safe in his chest. That was the only remnant that was left with him after the accident.

Not this time. This ends today.

It had been two days since the blind date and today was my first day as a resident in global health, and I couldn't be happier. I sat on my bed while going through the text messages from the girls. Ashlyn was first. 'Happy first day of work. Then it was Pheobe. 'Have a happy first day of work, something tells me today is gonna be a great day... I mean who knows what wonderful thing could happen today? I knew Pheobe was a very optimistic person but whenever she was this optimistic there had to be more to it.

A faint scar in the land. Kael found her there. “You’re thinking again,” he said. Luna nodded. “About what happens if we make it to day three hundred and sixty-five.” Kael sat beside her. “What happens?” “I don’t know,” Luna said honestly. “Maybe nothing. Maybe war. Maybe something else.” Kael was quiet for a moment. “Whatever it is, we face it together. That’s what matters.” Luna smiled faintly. “You’re annoyingly optimistic.”

I tightened my grip on the tray. Three days. Just survive three days.

Lay in bed staring at the ceiling. One day down. 326 to go.

Now we just had to survive the second half. Thirteen more weeks. Ninety-one days becoming sixty-five. Sixty-five days of stillness. Of trust. Of choosing to believe this would work. I could do sixty-five days.

She walked near him and grabbed the pen. “Okay, I’ll sign it then.” Claire signed the contract without rereading it. “Happy now?” And handed him the contract. Vladimir just looked and her and took the contract from her. “Well, that’s good.” He took the pen from her and put it back to his coat. “Oh! I almost forgot to tell you, the contract changed, by the way,” Vladimir said. “I don’t care.” Claire said and continued looking at him sharply. “ You have to live with me for 365 days, Claire.”