Timmy Failure Books Novels & Stories

"How is Timothy? I heard he’s been spending quite a bit of time downtown lately. Is he still... occupied?" ​"He’s confused, darling," Molly said, her voice dripping with mock pity. "He’s always had a bit of a savior complex. He finds these 'projects' and thinks he can elevate them. But the boy is starting to realize that you can take the girl out of the dive bar, but you can't take the dive bar out of the girl." ​Lily laughed, a bright, melodic sound that felt like a knife in my ribs. "He’ll come around. Timothy has always had excellent taste in the end. He just needs to realize that a diamond doesn't look right when it's set in lead."

Timmy said as his grin stretched even wider. "The cleaner," I said as I looked down at him in contempt. The people around us could not hold back their laughter upon hearing this. Timmy completely lost his spirit and collapsed on the floor. "Haha! You useless scumbag! You want me to be a cleaner?!" Timmy roared, almost losing his mind. "Then leave right now. Everyone else, we will begin the interviews," I announced. "You dare humiliate me?! I'll show you! I'm going to teach you a lesson!" Timmy roared as he suddenly pulled out a knife from nowhere and charged straight at me.

"The truth is, I fell for Faye the second I saw her! If I hadn't sent in that early college application, we never would've missed each other!" Jace smashed the crystal globe beside the bed. Along with it, the promise he'd recorded during his confession shattered too. He threw me to the floor like I weighed nothing, and I still refused to believe the boy I knew was gone. Not until my mom, right before brain surgery, was "accidentally" hit and killed by Faye—and not a single lawyer in Borevia City would take the case. Not until I died in a fire caused by a gas leak. When I opened my eyes again, I was back ten years earlier.

“Why don’t we… just work now?” Myron placed a hand on the back of my chair. “Anything you want, moonlight.” Timothy’s fingers snapped his pen in half. I jumped, startled. He cursed under his breath and tossed the broken pen aside. “Sorry,” he muttered, voice sounding like two stones grinding together. I swallowed hard and opened my laptop. This was going to be a long week.

"But I'm not here for him. I'm here because Lyra won't let me live with myself if I don't try." Timothy's eyes are closed. His breathing is shallow and irregular. His chest rises and falls in jerky movements that don't look natural. As I watch, his hand shifts again. Fingers elongating into claws. Then back. "How bad is it?" I ask Dr. Reeves. "Critical." He checks one of the machines. "His organs are starting to fail. The constant partial shifting is destroying him from the inside. We've given him every medication we have. But medicine can't fix spiritual damage."

“Timothy never had a girlfriend before you, Aurora. I want you to give him all the love that you can and always put a smile on his face.” “I-I’ll try my best…” “Thank you so much. Wait, I actually brought something with me.” “Huh? What is it?” Mrs. Lockwood then put a paper bag on the table and took out a blue photo album from it. “This is actually a photo album of Timothy from his childhood. I’ve waited such a long time to have someone I could share this with.” “He really loves studying.” I mumbled while looking at the pictures. “He does. He always wants to be the best in all aspect. But also, do you know that Timothy already cried because of a girl he had feelings for before when he was in

It was an habit of hers since she was too shy to show her face or any of her emotions at a young age. Steronick huffed out, "I take it we can't negotiate our way out." Tom dug his hand into his travelers coat and brought out the book he had been reading earlier. "The chances of us winning is a negative fifty so why bother?" "You might be right brother", Tim said. "But running isn't her style."

Margaret and Lydia burst into laughing. “He calls his own son bastard” Evelyn lips twisted. She turned to her laughing sisters and smiled at them. Timothy walked into his father’s workshop. He was a furniture maker. He stumbled on a broken chair and fell, the chair broke up into two. “You’re going to pay for that” his father’s voice rang besides him. Sylvester was reading a letter. “What? Pay for what?” he sighed. His father just smiled. “Father, I want to talk to you about something” Timothy cleaned off the dust on his clothes. His father’s eyes remained glued to the letter he was reading.

“But we can manage that. We have time.” Dog syndrome? That was the least of my problems. Time was ticking for me. I was tired of being seen as a failure. Tired of being a disappointment. Throwing my head back, I grunted. “Maybe you have all the time in the world, but I don’t. Not even a second to waste.” It had always been like that. If I don’t close the deal before someone else, I fail. If I don’t delete a post before someone else, I fail.

Mom patted Abigail Finch on the shoulder and said with a smile, "Abigail, your plan was brilliant." I stood frozen in place as a chill ran through me. It turned out Dad and I had never actually traveled through time. All the grievances, pain, and torture we suffered over the past three years were never accidents; they were a punishment Abigail and Mom had deliberately put us through. I lowered my head and looked at my own body kneeling on the floor. Blood dripped from the corner of my mouth onto the ground, yet nobody noticed. Abigail frowned and said impatiently to my lifeless body, "Oscar Howard, are you still putting on an act? I only had them give you 50 lashes. Who are you trying to foo