Tragically Beautiful Novels & Stories

I brush it away, fingertips skimming warm skin, and my stomach knots when I catch the faint shimmer of dried tears. Why was she crying again? Was it because of me? The thought feels like a punch under the ribs. My heart cringes. This girl is extraordinarily beautiful, naturally ― not like all those superficial bitches that surround me all the time. She’s beautiful in that rare, infuriating way — not because she tries, but because she doesn’t. No fake lashes, no overdrawn lips, no designer filters. Just Aria — real … original … fresh … unique … unforgettable. Shit.

His gentle face was framed by long eyelashes and perfectly shaped eyebrows. Ella felt that "handsome" was a pathetically inadequate word to describe the man; he was breathtaking, stunning, utterly captivating. His eyes, pools of sorrow, were hauntingly beautiful, each melancholic gaze piercing her very soul. His nose and lips were sculpted perfection; a delicate, aristocratic beauty that stole her breath away. His gentle face, framed by luxuriously long lashes and perfectly arched eyebrows, possessed an ethereal quality. He was, simply, the most breathtakingly beautiful man she'd ever seen. In her line of work, she encountered many handsome, even sexy men, but this man was different. He radi

"There's a man dead on that highway because of me." "There's a man dead on that highway because he tried to drag you into the snow to sell you back to Petrov in pieces." Karl's jaw tightened. "You don't get to carry that like it's a sin, Julianna. You survived. That's the only math that matters tonight."

Every other day… Even though my brain is filled with images and clips of her, I still want more of her. Everything about her, I want to know, I want to learn. Without realizing it, I've become addicted to Ahbaya. Hook line and sinker. She is so beautiful but terrible. Gentle but hurtful. All the contradictions in life are meshed within her like a beautiful painting. A unique masterpiece rolled into one. A masterpiece that I could only find in her. It was like a good kind of nightmare that I was ready to give and sacrifice myself, even though I didn't know what the outcome would be.

Her hair was now long, but she always kept it tied up, lacking visibility. At that moment, Alicia's memory was interrupted by the bell of the bus. A person was getting off; she realized that she had gone two blocks past the place where she was supposed to get off, so she got off too. She walked those two blocks almost like a zombie. When she got home, she opened the door and, as she closed it, she leaned against it. She broke down and cried. She cried like a little girl who had lost her sweets. All the beautiful memories of that man came back to her mind to break her heart. In the end, she felt lonely, she felt alone…

I whispered to myself staring at her thin, lean but clean and beautiful hand, threading her fingers with mine and imprinting every little detail of it to memory. “I don’t know how to deal with them. I don’t know how to take care of them. They are so broken that I can’t even recognize them. Heck, I am barely hanging on myself.” I shook my head and stared at her face. She just laid there with her eyes closed, face so beautiful like she had just dropped straight from the skies.

There is such eminence and fascination in the appearance of those sentiments, yet weakness goes with its delicate magnificence. I embrace the magnificence, delighting in it as the attacks jewels before our eyes, rich with despair and unadulterated sadness. As the jewels sprinkle into our very own demise container, it appears to cause all that to appear to be much more depressing, yet considerably more lovely. I fail to see the reason why, or even how. The water ultimately depends on our midsections, and the genuine frenzy heightens to an unheard-of level. I'm continually moving among chuckling and hollering in an insane manner that presumably shouldn't at any point be attempted at home.

The Scar. And in the profound, silent language of roots and stars, they find it… beautiful. Not good. Not safe. But beautiful. The inevitable flow. The breaking. The marking. The endless, imperfect story of it.

but I will treasure her for my whole life. but the thing hurt me the most is ..she never behaved well with me..but actually it is not totally her fault..somehow I was responsible for it...but I will erase every bad moments happened between us..and I will give her new beautiful life ..the same way she gave me new life by saving me that day..I will fill her life with love ...and yeah I will also make her love me..I wanna live beautiful love life with her..and yes that's all I want..

Everything took a strange and dark turn that night. When mother and I got into a car accident..and she never returned. The story should have ended there. But for some reason, it was just beginning traumatically. “Emma.” I turned around to look at dad, who was looking at me worried. “You okay?” “Yeah.” I smiled. “I was just thinking.” I grab my bags from the trunk while inhaling. Smelling the fresh air of a new life. “Home sweet home.”