Thousand Autumns Novels & Stories

Forty-seven seconds long. I pressed play with a hand that had gone entirely cold. There we were. Whoever filmed it had been across the room,angled slightly above us,the phone held at the practiced casualness of someone who did not want to be noticed doing what they were doing.the footage was close enough to be damning and distant enough to be deniable. Adrian and I by the tall windows. The city lights behind us.His body angled toward mine with an attention that focused on me. My face turned up towards his. The space between us closer than I realized while I was standing in it.

"Thank heavens I dodged quickly, or I might have died here today. "Why does the prince consort keep trying to harm me? Is it only because I ordered this urn dug out? The diviner said the evil spirit inside haunts me day after day and wants to drag me to hell. I only want to live." Mother hurriedly ordered the servants to carry Adrian back inside and summon the physician. When she turned back to Father, only disgust and coldness remained in her eyes. "Gideon Frost, you truly have become vicious. Fine. Since you protect this evil spirit's remains so dearly, then you will personally burn them to ashes to cleanse the bad luck from Adrian's body."

I gripped my phone tightly, but the tears wouldn't stop falling. Gritting my teeth, I called Cameron in the end. "What exactly do I have to do for you to lend me the money?" Cameron said nothing for a moment. He then answered in a cold and unyielding tone, "Come back upstairs. Get on your knees and apologize to Mari." My tears completely dried up right then, leaving my eyes raw and stinging. A weak smile appeared on my face, and after a long silence, I said, "Fine."

Anahita Waterwolf POV We waterwolves have resettled on the banks of the Dream River that runs through the place once known as the Barren. Though to use the word 'barren' in relation to this magnificent place feels ridiculous. Many mornings I sit on the balcony of the packhouse, before the pack stirs, gazing out at the churning, roiling, foaming waves of the river, its banks densely packed with rich, dark mud. The colours of the river at dawn--blue, mauve, purple, indigo, green--remind me of the lifestone and that night when the poison was driven out. The lifestone disappeared, it's work done. And Silvia's iron--the physical iron anyway--was also gone.

Andy’ POV With every step I took, the pain in my heart grew. It was like a fire, burning and consuming me from the inside out. It made my chest ache and made it hard to breathe. The tears that had been pooling in my eyes began to spill over, running down my cheeks. I couldn't stop them; I couldn't even try. I was beyond caring, beyond feeling. I just wanted the pain to end; it seemed like I was swallowed up by the darkness that surrounded me.

Sunlight filtered through the window, casting dappled shadows across the floor, contrasting with the heavy atmosphere inside. Dad sat on the couch, clutching a wrinkled photograph tightly in his hands. It was a photograph of me in first grade. I had been top of my class, all smiles as I stood on the stage. Where did he get this? His gaze was solemn. His dark eyes were filled with indescribable sadness. He caressed the photograph gently. Tears dripped on it. Maybe he had tried to transfer the pain of losing his wife by hating me. In the process, he had forgotten that he had once loved me too.

A rain made the golden leaves of the phoenix trees stick to the damp streets, creating a desolate early winter scene with patches of golden and muddy mixture. Thea was lying on the window, overlooking the scenery outside. She was afraid of the cold, so she didn't like autumn and winter. But this autumn and winter, she inexplicably felt less dislike. A coat suddenly draped over her body, and Thorne's gentle voice sounded, "It's cold outside, wear more." Thea turned her head and widened her eyes in surprise. Thorne stood in front of her, leaning on a cane. "Theodore, is your leg better?"

At my grave, he reached out to touch the photo carved into my tombstone, his smile radiant, though his eyes brimmed with sorrow. "If only the old tales of lovers turning into butterflies were real," he murmured. And in that moment, I felt myself transform—my soul taking shape as a butterfly. I fluttered down, landing softly on his shoulder. He lifted a hand and brushed the edge of my fragile wings. A single tear fell from his eye. Then suddenly, blood spilled from his lips. He collapsed in front of my grave. Moments later, another butterfly appeared beside me. Together, we circled freely in the wind, then soared higher and higher, toward an endless horizon.

He scrolled down to his contacts and dialed Professor Tan’s number. After a few rings, the call was answered and an old man’s voice was heard. “Hello, Dr. Lee?… It’s a surprise to receive a call from you.” “I’m sorry for disturbing you, Professor Tan… I called to ask you about an important matter.” Hans politely replied. Professor Tan chuckled and said, “It’s no problem, Dr. Lee… By the way, what’s the important matter you were talking about?” Hans sighed before saying, “Professor Tan, is it possible for a person to experience constant nightmares if there’s lightning?”

This time, when I did look around, I saw she was holding a big old jewelry box filled with lots and lots of pink paper hearts. "Wow! what's that?" I asked feeling excited. Mummy placed it in my hands, and my noona tapped the lid. "It's a thousand love from the kisses of the one who's dearly special to you. Or at least it will be, when you find the one that's special to you, then you'll fill them out." My eyes widened as I tried to count all the hearts. But I couldn't. A thousand was a lot! "Sophie," my noona said, as I looked up to see her green eyes shinning. " This is your adventure. How I want you to remember me while I'm gone."