The Of Lost Things Novels & Stories

I felt‌ like I had l​ost everything a‌ll o‌ver aga⁠in. Bu​t‌ then I loo​ked down a‍t the fl‌oor. In the pile of a‌sh, so​m‌ething was glin​ting. I reached down an⁠d picked it up. It was a small, high-te​ch memory card. Darli‍ngton must have slip​ped i‍t o‍ut of the diary'‌s cover before he‍ hand​ed​ it to his mother.‌

He had all of these things once, but now he’d lost them. They weren’t worth much, really. So why couldn’t he let go?

A chill ran down my spine as I quickly took the iPad from him to take a closer look, hoping it wasn’t my long-lost neckpiece—the one I had lost the day I was disowned. How on earth was it on eBay? I thought, still gazing at it in surprise. Who could possibly be selling my neckpiece on eBay? That piece is priceless; it’s the only thing I have that reminds me of my mother. “Mommy, would you buy it for me?” Jaden’s voice jolted me from my thoughts. I forced a smile and replied, “Of course, baby, I will buy it for you.”

"I searched everywhere for it but still wasn't able to find it." He hesitated for a second before looking at me. "Some things that have been lost will stay lost forever. You won't be able to find them even if you tried. However, there are also some things that can be started anew too."

Trust is not lost all at once. It fractures— --- In moments. --- In choices. --- In the silence after something breaks. --- And once it’s gone— --- It does not return the same. --- The chamber fell still. --- Not because everything had been saved— --- But because something had been lost. --- Irretrievably. --- The fracture sealed. --- Abrupt. --- Final. --- As if it had never been there. --- As if what had been taken— ---

I stared at the message displayed on the screen, the words burning like acid into my thoughts. …something you lost. My pulse spiked as I thought of Clarissa. She wasn’t just in danger right now, she knew something. And with the Cloak’s choice of words, the word lost meant just one thing: she had found what I had once buried, the truth. She had dug up what I had buried. Or so, I thought.

I have been so distracted these days that I never even noticed. I search through every nook and cranny, but come up empty-handed. This is not normal. There is no way I lost all these pieces I wear every day. It’s not that they are very expensive, but I am not the kind of person to lose things. Leaving the box and the scattered pieces as they are, I stare at them from my seat on the couch. There is a niggling thought at the back of my head, but I can’t quite grasp it.

"I told you to fill me up with somethings. I remembered saying earlier that I felt like I've lost a part of my memory." "You can't really say. I can get the doctor to check up on you." "I don't want that." The door was pushed open and Lita walked in. "Um, I think I lost something here," she said looking around. "Oh, there it is." She pointed to a piece of a dangly earring by laying on the floor below the front of the bed. "Oh, gosh. I thought I'd lost it," Lita cried as she walked to it and picked it.

I felt his gaze lingering on me, observing, calculating. "Actually," Leonard said, his expression turning serious, "at the exhibition… I lost something. Something very important to me. I’ve been looking everywhere, but it’s gone." The guilt hit me like a physical blow. My hands went clammy inside my pockets. "Did you happen to notice anything?" he asked, stepping closer. "Anything… missing?" The truth was right there, on the tip of my tongue. "I found it. I had it with me but then I lost it again."

Hope asked, her emerald-crimson eyes reflecting the collapsing nerves. "It’s the Chamber of the First Alpha’s Absence," Leo said, his runes turning a steady, lethal indigo. "It’s where the High Council stores the Things You Lost in the Dark." Suddenly, the floor of the surgical theater vanished, and we began to fall. But this time, the air didn't smell of ozone or lilies. It smelled of Old Paper and Childhood Rain. We hit the floor of the Seventh Layer: The Archive of the Abandoned. It was a world made of millions of floating, silver-grey photographs—images of every moment we had ever lost or forgotten.